Work Life

Is it real life?

Work life. Is that an oxymoron? Work isn’t life. No, of course not. Well, maybe. It depends on the job. But you just work to have a life. Wait, what if you love your job? If your job is your life, is that sad? Why would it be sad? Is life only defined as the traditional things that humans do over the years with family? If we remember Leonardo da Vinci, are we only remembering his work life? Did Leonardo da Vinci have any hobbies we don’t know about? A pet bunny?

Too many questions.

Let’s dive into the comics, shall we?

This one hit a nerve on what I call antisocial media sites, like Faceless Book, but it’s kind of been the prevalent theme no matter where I’ve worked. I’ve always compared businesses with cancer. A happy thought, I know, but their whole desire is to grow more and more each year until they go to the Sears and K-Mart graveyard.

Somehow this is supposed to motivate the workers.

Promoting products while slugging through the day-to-day customer service routine is something that requires more caffeine than medically advised or a fairly severe personality disorder. Either way, please consult your doctor.

There are two ways to enjoy my day off. The first way is to stay up super late the night before. That’s really the “day” off. Then I sleep way too long and there’s little left to enjoy before work is looming over my head again.

The other way is to get up early so I really enjoy the actual day off. I’m still attempting this. There’s just no replacement for staying up late with the knowledge that I don’t have to work tomorrow. It’s better than Disneyland.

Live customer reviews are a real thing and I think it’s should be a stage act, but only for products that people don’t like. We should have a night, ideally at a local comedy club, where people are invited to bring recent purchases on stage and rant about what they don’t like about them.

Some of them could be really funny and cathartic.

I’ve had this offer so many times, even at art jobs that I’ve loved, and it’s always presented as a great thing. Work until I want to die? Oh boy! Think of the money!

Money can’t buy me sleep.

There are worse things than having to drive back to work because of something stupid you did, but I can’t think of any right now. It’s awful. You’re mad at yourself, but if you try hard enough you can usually find a reason to blame your place of employment.

Sadly, the best candidates don’t always get the job because of hours of availability. Ten years experience? Nah, we can teach you that. Can you work late on a Saturday and be called in because of an emergency on a Sunday morning. You can? Hired!

“How malleable are you?” should be right on the application.

Another truth. If you ever wonder why you don’t see as many people who put in decades of work for the same company, this is the reason.

Should I stay and take my fifty cent raise or go down the street to that other company for two dollars more an hour? Hmmmm. Tough one. Very, very…buh-bye!

Tabby is me, here. No more management. Please. It’s not worth it.

Tabby is no sucker! Someday, I hope to be as wise.