fuck work

Madame Filth's picture

every morning mr filth leaves at 5:10 to catch a train to NYC by 7. if he's lucky he's home by 7 at night, and he's been lucky a lot lately. he's been wanting to drive home the point of how fucked they would be if he wasn't there. he doesn't feel that he's paid commensurate with the amount of shit he has to put up with from various angles, including, but not limited to, several hundred dollars every month spent on commuting.

i like to fuck with him with respect to my work. in reality i do a shit-ton around here, in addition to working, but that's not much of a gag. i spent the day bitching about how i have to work all damn day tomorrow, like some kind of caveman. some kind of farmer, i have to wake up no later than 9 am, go to the living room to get the phone and have it by me when my boss calls. i have to talk to her probably no fewer than three times tomorrow. i'll have to mute my stories. rockzo will be licking me, and it'll tickle but i can't laugh. when she tells me what she needs done, i will probably be bleary eyed, lie and say i get it when i totally don't. then i'll have to spend the day putzing around with files to try to sort of figure it out, or at least come up with some bullshit question i can ask that can get her to accidentally repeat herself, or at least accidentally clarify the thing i felt too tired to pay attention to.

then i have to schlep a flash drive all the way to the office about half a block from my house, to print these files.

then i have to fill out a time sheet, according to my formula. i calculate actual time spent, then add based on the pain in the ass factor. if i have to talk to that person more than once, i get another hour, right off the bat. if i have to talk for a collective hour, that's two hours. if i can sneak into the office with no one seeing me, i can say i was there an hour earlier, that's another hour. of course you don't say goodbye when you leave, that would be stupid.

it's just so much to keep track of, it puts me out terribly.

my other job is a bitch of a commute - a three minute walk to an office where i am most often the only one there for the first two hours. this is a good time to catch up on paperwork for the kid for school, answer emails, look for new places to live. sometimes the phone rings and i'm so annoyed, because sometimes i'm reading and what the fuck? people have no goddamn class anymore.

but it keeps my brain busy and let's face it, i need that. without it, i'd obsess on something at my food co op, or how best to express my discontent with the pediatric orthopedist who was an asshole to me last week (cartoon + letter apologizing how my daughter's injury inconvenienced him. totally gonna send it.)

but it sucks. mr filth is very appreciated at his job. it's good for him, as jobs go. everyone knows how valuable he is, cares about him, remembers his birthday, tells him how great he is, but the money. not enough, according to him. how much would be enough? probably a million billion gajillion dollars, and they'd have to carry him to the office on a huge pillow.

just fuck it. fuck sucking it up because it's what everyone does. fuck choosing a rewarding career field. fuck feeling needed and appreciated at work. it ain't worth it in the best case scenarios. i love work. i want to work in my yard. i wanna work with goats and gardens and fixing my house. i wanna train a pack of dogs. i wanna ferment beverages and bake experimental breads. there's no fucking way in shit i can keep this up. no way. living in NJ is a racket, everyone has to work like this just to pay for housing and food, and it's such bullshit. if i were in vermont i could work on actual work, rather than bullshit someone who's bullshitting someone else to get the money they use to pay me. if i did as much shit there as i do here, i'd have a SAVINGS... imagine that!

stupid, stupid, work. rat race. won't be long till i'm too old to pull it off anyway. then what?

mr filth is always talking about quitting. about finding some other thing to do for cash, but he never does it. this weekend he talked about just quitting, having nothing to replace the income. he is seriously weighing whether it's worth it at all...

i'm making a plan. don't know what it will be yet, but i am definitely making it this month. i gotta see my way to the end of this shit. i'm projecting out to when i stop working, whenever that is, and i'm gonna look hard at what has to change to make that happen cuz this is some bull fucking shit.

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shadeshaman's picture

"Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius"--Sir Arthur Conan Doyle