Maybe I was born to be a corporate drone
Work gives me a certain cheap sense of purpose that makes me feel good. And yes, I’m talking about corporate work, the 9-to-5, the most basic kind you can think of.
It makes me feel good because every day I show up at the time I was told to, do what someone else asks me to do, and then leave at the time I’m allowed to leave. It’s incredibly easy.
I don’t have to think about my next move; I don’t have to worry about whether projects succeed because they’re not mine. If the company goes under, I move on to another one; if the company thrives, things get better for me (yeah, sure).
I don’t have to face my demons, deal with the failure of a broken dream, or prove anything to myself. Training? That doesn’t really exist. You learn as you go. It’s always clear what the next step is and what skills you need to climb the ladder.
Maybe I was born for this because I don’t give a shit. I find it easy because the work I do for other people isn’t relevant to me. They pay me to do it, so I do it. And yet, it’s satisfying. It gives my brain just enough stimulation to keep going.
I don’t mean to offend anyone with this, but corporate work is easy, and I think it’s for mediocre people. The hard part is putting up with how demoralizing it is, because the system demands that we sell our lives for scraps, and if we want more, we’ll have to step on a few people to climb and climb and climb.
Truthfully, I don’t think there’s anything about it to be proud of. The saddest part, without a doubt, is knowing that we don’t really have another choice. Rationalizing it means accepting that the game is rigged, and that last part eats away at your soul.