Comfort in life is strange. Among other things. Personally, comfort involves bits of the strange and the stress. What is life without that anyway? Probably a waste of time. I have a hard nine to fiver that I got strictly of luck as my work. Work as in it providing sustenance. Then I have the job which is that artistic expression you must execute in order to stave off madness. The work and the job. It’s 2014, and we either go on or go crazy.
So I have a job as a waitress in a sort of truck-stop diner, though trucks don’t stop here and I’m a man. It just falls into suit with the description because that is what it feels like. I don’t loathe my job, in fact the pay is quite hefty in comparison to previous jobs. I literally do as little work as required and that’s more than enough. If I were to guess, I made as much as a tradesman or any other that specialized in a specific field. I was simply a waitress, but I knew what the fuck I was doing.
This didn’t just come across me, though the hiring and the result thereof did feel like it fell into my lap. The last time I had an incredibly comfortable position, I worked for an Armenian man that drove a proverbial beamer and smoked the fanciest of cigars. [He also owned a cigar shop] I was his product supervisor and I assumed aggressor because I had my own office and I only had to make our products sound necessary. Antivirus and all that other shit about computer security. I gave less than a shit about it. But I was efficient. Logical. Legal. All that shit. I even had my own office. An office! I was right across from a yoga studio. Nonetheless, I enjoyed my lunchbreaks very much, especially during the dirty dog stretch. …I mean the downward dog. Well… who gives a fuck. But I eventually left. For the 7 months I was there, they were the 7 most unproductive months of my life.
I suppose that’s why comfort in life is strange. Okay, I don’t suppose it because it’s true. I’ve been moonlighting at this quaint little bakery as a baker. I’d never baked before. After two days, I was offered a position as the head baker. Full-time. A full-time position anywhere is a blessing of sorts. Shit sucks fucking dick everywhere because no one can get a job. We’re aware that the government statistics of unemployment were low and getting better but that’s only because they’re not including the people that are officially bankrupt. They’re actually excluded from statistics. They’re broke as fuck. Classic loophole. Well played, assholes, well played.
As a moonlit baker, I refused any pay they tried to give me. Yes, it sounds stupid and borderline insane, but I literally don’t have to give a fuck what you think. Thing is, most of us are under an illusion of what’s good or great and it’s something to live by. But that basically means somebody else has standards that were so dope that you decided to live by them Who’s standards were you supposed to live by though? Another’s? Yours? Jesus? Cock and balls, man. Or woman. …Don’t give a shit. We sell ourselves short if we try to come off like anyone else.
Work or job? It’s literally up to you which one you wish to delegate your life. But fuck you, anyway.
you in the future.