I wrote the following several years ago and never published it because I didn’t want anyone from my job to realize how I felt. Reading it now it goes to show how unsuitable the job I had at the time was. Later, I switched to a different job at the same company and my outlook changed drastically. I will write about that sometime. Hopefully.
I always read a bunch of FIRE people online saying that they don’t hate their jobs and that this is more about having the freedom to choose. I am not like those people. Its time for real talk. I do sometimes hate my job. I find times when I’m sitting at my desk staring out the window that I would rather be anywhere other than at my job.
I hear other people talk about the fulfillment they find in their work, that they feel that they get something from work that they cannot get other places. I just don’t feel that way.
I find myself during hour three of the meetings that I know will basically last all day completely zoning out to another world. I fantasize about standing up and screaming at the people who are arguing about whatever topic that probably doesn’t even matter. Or at least I don’t think it matters. I find them mystifying. My coworkers seem genuinely concerned and engaged in their jobs. That’s seems such a foreign idea to me.
I wonder if I fit in with them. Do I look defiant from the outside? Or do I mask it as well as I try to? I try to be a good little worker. A good little slave. Because that’s what working is. Its slavery. I try to be a good slave, and not let on that I am plotting my escape.
Because I am. I’m counting down the days until I am free.
Maybe I am not like most people. Maybe most people do not feel like ill-fitting cogs in a giant machine. But I do. I read this article entitled “An employee is basically an “obedient, housebroken dog.”” at LinkedIn recently and it deeply resonated with me.
As long as I am working I will be a dog. I have a good job. I am a pampered spoiled little lap dog but a dog nonetheless.