Rage Against the Machine
2003-08-05, 8:48 a.m.

I hate my job.

No, it's true. I've given it some time, mulled it over, and I've decided that I hate it. I hate being there, I hate the hours, I hate how it all but destroys the rest of the day around it, I hate that I get almost no quality time with my family anymore.

I've taken to using my breaks to sit outside, smoke a cigarette (yes, this job has driven me to smoking at work) and pretend that I'm not there for 5 or 10 minutes. It's not that the job is hard or demanding - far from it. Now that I've learned it, I can practically do it in my sleep. I'm already seeing that I'm doing it about 5 times faster than the previous person did (as well as doing other things there that she didn't), and having gaps of time where there's nothing to do but ponder my fate. And having gaps of time makes me paranoid, mainly cos it makes me feel expendable. Sure, the spare time is because of my work speed, but in the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately world of business, the speed gets taken for granted and all they see is my spots of not doing something. But that's just my paranoia talking due to my last job experience.

Granted, I'm not slated for this position for very long. But moving up means actually having some interest in how the business works. This is a problem, as I have none. There is nothing that will ever make me care about package delivery.

'So what?' you say. 'You don't have to like your job, you just have to do it.' I still grapple with the horror of that statement, that I might waste serious chunks of my life in some completely uninspired way just for a paycheck. It really makes me loathe Western Civilization. But more so, it makes me loathe myself for falling into this position in the first place. Here, I rail against becoming the proverbial Cog in the Machine. And worse, having to 'work' the Machine to that I may reposition the Cog. If I choose not to, I stay where I'm at, stagnant, with no time to function. If I 'work' the Machine, I have to pretend that I care about my co-worker's interests, care about the company for which I work, and probably take up golf. I'm not sure which is the worse scenario.

I border here between running away screaming from all of this, and giving myself up to the Machine for the sake of the future of my family. I'm the one that let myself fall into this well, this trap of monetary dependency, without having an enjoyable means to maintain it, so I must suffer my fate. It's like being a junkie-- you have to hit up just to stay normal or you'll start to shut down and freak out, so consequently you've become someone else's bitch. Lovely.

Sometimes this life makes me so angry. I spent the first chapter of my life lost and wandering (see: childhood), helpless and alone, and now I fear I am to spend this chapter both undeniably happy (see: wife and kids) and completely miserable (see: everything else) simultaneously.

I need to see a philosopher. But first, I have to go grocery shopping.

--End Transmission--