This makes me amazing
. In the sense that anyone can do it, but I'm making you aware of it. One points at the desk. One points at the cat tree. I'm debating having the second pointing at the couch, but who really wants to watch me watch TV? At least at the desk I make weird faces and wearing bunny ears and such.
Knowing in my heart of hearts (it's adjacent to a ventricle, I think) that the weekend has dawned has significantly decreased my stress level. I liken the experience to β radiation, the type where an electron escapes from a nucleus to make the over all atom that much more positive. I'm a geek, shut the fuck up.
I do not understand the concept of overworking oneself. It seems that America is telling us that we need to work work work and collapse of exhaustion, that this is the proper, righteous and only way to be. "You're not happy unless you're working 12 hours days!" is Unky Sam's joie de vivre now. It seems so unhealthy that people want to work themselves into the ground. People do it, too.
They stay in the office late, come in weekends and devour project after project into a dark maw of pay-check to pay-check-esque feedings. What's worse is that people convince themselves that they like it. They enjoy having no social life outside of work, of eating fast food in the car because they're late for a meeting. Is pathetic really that the status quo is likening us to robots.
Pay attention, kiddies, for the future has brought us automata. New to every home! DAD&trade! Wind him up and never seen him again. We
are the future that was promised, we the mindless force that powers the dying economy. Here we were complaining that we'd never have these automated things, slaves to chores adn simple math. Oops. Didn't see that coming did we? I didn't mean to turn into that.
I have grappled with the use of my time at work. I don't want to work ten hour days but I want to help my team get things done. I refuse to become one of those people that only works, ever. I will not come in on a weekend unless half the buildings explode. I value my real life when I have it.
This was all spawned, of course, because of an overworked co-worker barking at me for taking one of his projects with out my knowing. He's coming in again this weekend. I think he's my new robot pet. I've washed my hand of him. This isn't the first time he's gotten surly about people taking some of "his" projects (which mind you are designed to be up for grabs so any one can work on them when they have time). He can be the robot for all I care at this point. I tried.
What's really sad is that he's the only one doing it at this point. They hired me and another guy to spread the work around. Everyone else figured this out and have evened the load. We all work semi-normal hours and don't come in on weekends. So, while I frisbee golf this Sunday I'll think of him, stashed away in his office. I'll remember that I, though he probably gets paid far more, can enjoy the mediocre weather."If there is hope it lies in the proles”
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