Live long enough and you realize that most jobs are merde (shit, for you non-Spanish-speakers).
Unless you are extricating babies from burning buildings, extricating babies from mothers, tending bar, or are a Special Prosecutor investigating a lackwitted presidential administration, your job probably isn't that great.
Most of us go to work every day just to keep food on the roof and a table over our heads (I probably should lighten up on the medical marijuana). As Blind Lime Harrison sang in the 1932 blues classic, Shit for Brains:
Can't make my rent, 'cause I got no pay / Ain't had no food in 9 and one-half days / It might be 'cause I'm lazy and got shit for brains.
ANYhoo, to recap, most of us hate our jobs and we work only because we have to. We find something to amuse ourselves after-hours and on we slog.
Recently, however, noted scienticians identified 12 specific signs that indicate you might need to re-think your day-gig:
- You wake up sobbing, in the fetal position. And it's Sunday. And you're on vacation.
- You give yourself pep-talks in the shower. "I am good at my job. I am valuable. I am capable. Just for today, I won't be rude, insubordinate or trip anyone in the hallway."
- As your work phone rings, you weep silently at your desk, until your boss walks over and says, "HOW ABOUT ANSWERING THE PHONE, SHITHEAD?"
- You spend your lunch hour wondering if you could survive women's prison, because you are going to kill all of your co-workers as soon as you get back to the office.
- You have someone call in for you, saying you are lost-at-sea.
- You don't come back from lunch. Because you are in your car at a local park, trying to strangle yourself with your brassiere.
- Singing any part of the Peter Cetera catalog out loud, extra points if while driving and sobbing. "I AM THE MAAAN WHO WILL FIGHT FOR YOUR HONOR ….."
- Craving odd meals. Like farfalle and peas with heroin pesto.
- Inability to not mock your co-workers. To their faces. Using giant eye-rolls, loud bodily noises and insulting nicknames.
- You steal the company checkbook and start writing checks signed "Anita Newjob."
- You fantasize about being Moe Howard, so you can clunk your co-workers' heads together.
- You sing entire TV sitcom themes at your desk. Mr. Ed. The Flintstones. God forbid, The Patty Duke Show (a hot dog makes her lose control? What's up with that?)
Good luck in your job search. I'm off to the park.
Cetera say, "Come orbit Planet Michelle! Oooo-Oooo! If you know what's good for you! Oooo-Ooo! Just type your e-mail in, and give my girl a spin! Ooo-ooo mama! It's a win-win!" Can't argue wid dat, mah babies! So do like Cetera say! No spam-ola or other bummers, ever.
(Or e-mail me old-school: planetMichelle4u@gmail.com
Filed under: humor