You Make Me Feel Like A Whore

The level of hate I have for my current job is beginning to take on inhuman proportions. In fact, I think it has gotten so out of hand that I could use that hatred as justification to drive in the HOV lanes, my displeasure riding shotgun with the seat leaned back and playing lazy. Yet, no matter how unchallenging and frustrating I find my current situation, I can't just quit...and the job market is more sparse than the shelves of a pre-Glasnost Soviet grocery store. So, I'm kind of stuck for now...

Anyhoo, I got to thinking what would make me like this job any less, and it took me a while since I though every shred of hatred I could muster was already in use...then I discovered that I could indeed despise this job more, and like Nigel Tufnel's customized Marshall amp, my hate goes to 11! Sweet!

So, what was the one thing that would make me unhappier than an Emo kid at Disneyland? An dramatic increase in pay. That's right, more money would not cure my plight and would only make it more difficult for me to quit because the company would then literally own me.

It has taken me a good long while and many, many painful lessons to learn that money and/or possessions do not equal happiness. The industry I support is in shambles, propped up by taxpayer funds. Our customers are shady, crooked, and some are nothing more than thieves. It makes for a tough day at the office.

To make things better, I am looking to cut my expenses, deleverage at all costs and have begun to save as much money as possible...all in an attempt to be able to one day not be an indentured servant at a job that, for all intents and purposes, is making me miserable day in and day out....

I saw this posted at another blog, I'd link to it if I could remember which one it was, but it makes perfect sense. It was a profound yet simple statement:

I hate work.

The more stupid stuff you buy, the more you have to work.

I hate stupid stuff.

Yes, indeed......