Fuck Jobs

The only thing worse than having a job is NOT having a job (unless you're rich).

I don’t think I’ve ever had a job I really liked. Have you?

Let me be more specific: I don’t think I’ve had a job that utilized the breadth of my skills and depth of my intelligence. Working is too much like kindergarten—there are arbitrary limits imposed on you, such as being forced to sit at a specific desk and start work at a specific time, and you’re often punished by superiors and inferiors alike for being too talented, too smart, and (especially) too outspoken. Also, like kindergarteners, workers are expected to do the same mindless tasks over and over again while never frowning, cursing, or complaining. And if they melt down due to the sorry state of their existence, some condescending champion of the status quo is likely to tell them to use an “indoor voice.”

But, hey, at least in kindergarten you get a nap and a juice box. It’s a kinder, gentler form of social control (unless you went to Catholic School). And it only lasts a year. Working is a life sentence for millennials. It’s a fucking life sentence. I’m not going to pretend that retirement still exists—even those of us who can afford to escape will likely stay out of fear and routine. Plenty of old, wealthy people taking our jobs.

The root of the fear is obvious. No one wants to be poor in America. Shit, Americans rarely identify as “working class"—with all its glory and revolutionary implications—so taking pride in poverty is out of the question.

How do we avoid poverty? Well, there’s a routine, which is hammered into all of us starting at a young age (hence my kindergarten analogy). Go to school; get a job, climb the corporate ladder; don’t quit a job without having another one lined up; don’t fuck on the first date; if you do, use protection, etc. My number one complaint regarding humanity is that we’re all so fucking predictable. We think we’re so much better than hive-minded insects like ants, but we walk in straight lines the same way they do—and the dwellings we build aren’t even as reliable or interesting. Any originality was beaten out of us a long time ago.

We not only follow the fucking leader—we debase ourselves for him. (Note: I use he/him pronouns here intentionally.) We lick his boots without a second thought. Ever go on a job interview and tell the hiring manager every problem you plan to fix on his dysfunctional team at his shitshow of a company? Of course not, even though it would make logical sense. Ever go on a job interview and tell the hiring manager everything you thought he wanted to hear? Of course! Everyone else is a sycophantic coward, so why should you be any different? Yossarian—with his brilliant irony—was right. (If you don’t know who Yossarian is, stop working so much and read a fucking book.)

The truth is I don’t blame conformists. (Yes, I use blaming language, but it’s for effect.) I don’t blame them because I’m not naive. I know it doesn’t mean shit if you discover a new element or mathematically prove that God exists during a job interview. You will almost never be rewarded for showing up the boss—even before he becomes your boss. Hell, he won’t like it if you showed him up in a social media post 20 years ago. People in power are thin-skinned little bitches (see previous use of he/him pronouns—not insulting women or dogs here).

Take Trump, for example. Vice President Harris questions his crowd size, and he acts as if she credibly accused him of having a micro-penis. But I digress.

The point of this post is to challenge anyone to defend the state of employment (i.e. social control) in this country. I dare you to defend it. If you do, I’ll be waiting on the streets, which is where I’ll end up anyway if I can’t find a job, with medieval weapons—Anchorman-style.

Needless to say, I’m very unprofessional.