The Purpose of it All
I wake up early in the morning, hauling myself out of bed to rush in to the office... to do what? I look at the day with bleary dread. The workday comes and I sit behind my desk and if I'm lucky there will be enough work to distract me from the constant debate in my head. Do I quit?
What else would I do with my time? They pay me well. I'll stay at least for this year.
What else would I do with my time? They pay me well. I'll stay at least for this year.
But what about not wasting your time? Do you want to waste a whole year?
It's not practical. You can't just drop out of work and expect other people to pay your bills. You're too idealistic.
What if I die tomorrow? Will I have made a difference? I would have so many regrets, I would regret working this job, wasting my time.
It's good training, I'm building my resume, it's not a waste of time. It will pay off in the long run.
How do I know there even is a long run? What happened to believing you can do anything?
I'm a grown-up. I have to be practical. Money must be made. Bills must be paid. Without another opportunity lined up, quitting is useless.
What about taking risks? Cutting losses? What about all that time I could be spending doing something, anything else.
But what would I even do?
What would I do?
What do I want to do?
What would I do?
What do I want to do?
And the workday ends and I duck through the rain to the train to the bus. On the bus I look out the window and wonder what I did all day. I decide to stick it out until next fall, when my contract is up. I think about the coming day and I'm exhausted at the thought of it. I dread waking up in the morning to go do nothing. I go to bed and lay there, trying to sleep, thinking how tomorrow will be exactly the same as today.
I think about promotions. Opportunities. I wonder what I would do if I were offered a higher-up job. I wonder what kind of higher-up job I would want. It would be harder to leave. It would pay better. It might be enjoyable. Is there a job in this business which I actually want?
Am I paying my dues or wasting my time?
My boss likes to say, "We're not saving babies," to mean, "our work is important to our clients, but it's not urgent, don't stress yourself out about it." I want to tell him yes, that's the problem. We're not saving babies. No babies are being saved.
Would I want to work at the opposite extreme, where every choice was life or death? I don't know. I don't think so. I think the stress would be unpleasant and definitely carry over to the rest of my life.
It's not like we don't provide a valuable service. It's that... the sort of things we do... For whatever reason, I am automatically biased against our clients. I see their former salaries, their outplacement monies, what they're paying for what we do, and I honestly sometimes can't believe the numbers are right. Do you know what that much money means?*
And I always thought that if you took a job for the money you were selling out, and you had to make choices to sacrifice a little (or a lot) in order to make the world a better place. So if I stay at this job because they pay me... if I waste my time... then who the hell am I? Then again, how else am I supposed to pay my student loans, rent, utilities, groceries, medications, doctor visits, travel... how else can I lift the financial burden currently smothering my parents?
I wake up each morning deciding to shuffle off through the next day. I come home each night questioning the purpose and meaning of my existence. I go to bed deciding it's all futile anyway, because no matter what I do I'll never make a real change. I fall asleep and dream of meetings and office politics. I wake up the next morning to start the cycle of who am I and what is my purpose all over agian.
* This all has class undertones which probably explain some of my resistance to this job. Like, I believe, in a part of me, that networking to get a job is mercenary; that rich people don't have employment problems; that retiring successful people are self-important and entitled; that helping people with less money is morally better than helping people with more money; etc. Add that in with a dash of who do you think you are? everyone knows you're not one of them. you're not a business person. making pretensions acting like you're better than the rest of us. do you think you're TOO GOOD for another job?
I think about promotions. Opportunities. I wonder what I would do if I were offered a higher-up job. I wonder what kind of higher-up job I would want. It would be harder to leave. It would pay better. It might be enjoyable. Is there a job in this business which I actually want?
Am I paying my dues or wasting my time?
My boss likes to say, "We're not saving babies," to mean, "our work is important to our clients, but it's not urgent, don't stress yourself out about it." I want to tell him yes, that's the problem. We're not saving babies. No babies are being saved.
Would I want to work at the opposite extreme, where every choice was life or death? I don't know. I don't think so. I think the stress would be unpleasant and definitely carry over to the rest of my life.
It's not like we don't provide a valuable service. It's that... the sort of things we do... For whatever reason, I am automatically biased against our clients. I see their former salaries, their outplacement monies, what they're paying for what we do, and I honestly sometimes can't believe the numbers are right. Do you know what that much money means?*
And I always thought that if you took a job for the money you were selling out, and you had to make choices to sacrifice a little (or a lot) in order to make the world a better place. So if I stay at this job because they pay me... if I waste my time... then who the hell am I? Then again, how else am I supposed to pay my student loans, rent, utilities, groceries, medications, doctor visits, travel... how else can I lift the financial burden currently smothering my parents?
I wake up each morning deciding to shuffle off through the next day. I come home each night questioning the purpose and meaning of my existence. I go to bed deciding it's all futile anyway, because no matter what I do I'll never make a real change. I fall asleep and dream of meetings and office politics. I wake up the next morning to start the cycle of who am I and what is my purpose all over agian.
* This all has class undertones which probably explain some of my resistance to this job. Like, I believe, in a part of me, that networking to get a job is mercenary; that rich people don't have employment problems; that retiring successful people are self-important and entitled; that helping people with less money is morally better than helping people with more money; etc. Add that in with a dash of who do you think you are? everyone knows you're not one of them. you're not a business person. making pretensions acting like you're better than the rest of us. do you think you're TOO GOOD for another job?
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cynical
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discontent
annoyed
amused