S ixteen months ago I moved from the world of entrepreneurship — a portmanteau comprised of the French word entrepreneur, which means to enter poverty, and the English word ship, which means to float along with the tide — and I got a regular job. I do not hate my job. What I do hate is the structure of my job. [note 1] I hate the assumption that creativity begins at 9am and ends at 5pm. I hate the assumption that my energy cycle can be turned on or off according to a clock. I hate the assumption that every night I will get a full night’s rest and wake up all bright and perky in the morning. I hate that I have to take Adderall in order to survive the workday. I hate that my sedentary job has caused me to put back on most of the weight I lost over the previous two years, and that no amount of dieting or morning/evening exercise will make it go away, because I learned that I need to be physically active throughout the day to keep my weight in check. I hate that our modern life, which was supposed to make our lives easier has, in some ways, made it much more difficult. It has certainly reduced the toil of daily life. We do not have to worry about growing food and raising chickens and cows and pigs. But it’s a Faustian bargain. The modern life comes at the price of willingly being tied to a digital device all day long and then spending your leisure time staring at the very same digital devices.
- I should also add that I hate it’s location. My office is in a poor neighborhood…prostitutes on the corners…”health food” which consists of Int’l House of Pancakes (thankfully IHOP has expanded their menu). Of course, I could go to Denny’s, Wendy’s, Burger King, McDonald’s, or Subway Sandwiches. The local pizza place? Those f**king guineas should be whacked by their own people…they’re a disgrace to every Italian who is proud of his or her cooking…the sh*t they serve is f**king poison. I went with two guys from the office to try their pizza…I have a cast-iron stomach but they got sick. You need to go to a bank? F**k you. No banks. Check cashing…that you’ll find. And a Rent-A-Center…and three motels within a five-block radius of my building…now how many f**king tourists are coming to visit Wendy’s and Burger King? I could go to the local park…there’s a nice big piece of land that’s a perfect place to relax…except that piece of land is owned by a f**king church that uses it as a parking lot on a once-in-blue-moon basis. Instead of turning it into something useful for the community, it sits as a f**king giant empty lot so people can park their cars, go into the Christian Cultural Center, and save their souls so they can live in bliss in the after-life but f**k you about your current life of squalor…that seems to be the real message of the so-called “cultural center.”↩