Work As Life

Starting the day with 4 inches of snow I was hoping for a snow day. My truck has the distinction of being absolute crap in the snow, yet it plowed through the wet slushy shit like it was designed for the task. Smooth driving until the last mile where it looked like a scene from The Thing. Crazy whiteout situation and a snow plow throwing muck on my windshield.

I get in to work and all the usual suspects are there. Not a whole lot of hellos in that place. Real inviting. I’ve given them 11 years and I feel like a stranger there. Or it could just be a weeks worth of no sleep preying on my psyche. Who knows? Either way, it’s crap.

I talk to my boss who seems to be the only person I know from the early days. We’re rushing to create a presentation for a licensor and we’re quickly running out of time. Interrupting our meeting is the resident brown noser that needed to mention he’ll be here on the weekend even if there’s 3 feet of snow. Good to know, buddy. Is it wrong to wish that a murder of crows would flock out of nowhere to peck out his eyes? I didn’t think so.

Lunch with a coworker at our favorite breakfast joint, which today smelled like a backed up porta-John, leads to miserable discussions about the lack of opportunities for self employment. Who doesn’t want to be the master of their own destiny?

Back at work to toil away at one of the few things I can actually do well, even if it brings me such little joy. It’s a job, I don’t come here for the fun and excitement. It soon rolls past 5pm. Then 6pm, when I get my nightly visit from one of my you her coworkers. Usually to remind me that I’m working too late. Good kid. My bitter and sarcastic attitude might be rubbing off on him. Sorry, dude. You should do like the rest of them and avoid me lime I’ve got the plague. I decide he’s right after all and gather my shit up to leave. It’s 7:30 for god’s sake.

Home is the usual nightmare of 2011 financial woe. I find myself disgusted with this place every time I walk through the door. It makes me want to hop on my Spyder and ride off into the great beyond. I’m home for 20 minutes and already wish I’d stayed at work. There’s nothing but ungrateful animals and loneliness here. At least at work I don’t have to think about anything beyond font choices and render times and milestones. Who wants to sit in a dark house contemplating a midlife crisis?

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Advertisements

About heartajack

I'm a graphic designer and occasional filmmaker that recently discovered the awesomeness that is the Can-Am Spyder Roadster. In recent years I've become obsessed with food and learning how to prepare it. I make the best damn ribs...EVER.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Work As Life

  1. Barbara says:

    😦 Awww Jack. Eat Ethiopian food with me tomorrow night!

  2. John says:

    You need a vacation. Might I recommend Delray Beach, Florida?

  3. heartajack says:

    Oooh, that would be a cool trip on my Spyder! I’ll consider it for my summer trip! Was going to drive to Chicago again, but Florida might be more fun.

  4. James Kay says:

    Right there with you Jack.
    I work in the studio at an ad agency, doing the same shit Ive been doing since
    The Mac IIfx running OS 7.5.1 and Photoshop 2.5.
    Age wise at work I’m the upper tier. Account people who decide the course of my projects are median age 23. I’m a couple weeks away from a divorce.
    I look on the bright side. I have a firearms card a nice 1911 colt 45,
    I did manage to start my own studio (that doesn’t make any money) but provides me with a modicum of hope professionally. Mid life – not for everyone

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s