turnin' tricks
So, they've finally put me to work and oh man does it suck. They call it "proccessing files," but really it is data entry of the most mind-numbing and frustrating variety. Yesterday I was literally writhing in my chair from the pain of this task. Imagine a maze of paperwork complicated by titles and terms which may have meaning attached to them, but if so you haven't the faintest idea what that meaning might be. Numbers and letters jumbled together on a page, waiting to be untangled by your discerning eye.
I've discovered that this discerning eye would rather read the news and untangle fashion dilemmas. When I began working here, the MSN homepage would pop up again and again and I would wonder, "Who has time to read this crap?" Well friends, now I know. They are people with jobs so completely pointless (which are, ironically, the only ones at which someone like me can make a living wage) they must consume this fluff to distract their fried brains from the task at hand. Seriously. Do you remember that '80s commercial with the egg and the frying pan, "this is your brain, this is your brain on drugs..."? Well, there should be a new version for the new millennium: This is your brain. This is your brain on data entry (fry, fry, fry). People need to be warned.
I just keep asking myself, is it worth it? What are my options?!?! No wonder we live in a nation of caffeine and pharmacutical addicted overeaters. In fact, on a certain level this office is not unlike the pimpin' street scene. Replace the crack with coffee, the dope with food (preferrably of the fattening or sugary variety) or anti-depressants and you're on your way. We've got Big Daddy in the head office and all the little ladies (plus one gigilo in this case) running around, drumming up business and otherwise doing his bidding. He can throw one of us out on our ass at any time he so chooses, but for now, as a team we're bringin' in the cash. Okay, okay, we're not selling our bodies and we're not addicted to serious drugs, but it's still an interesting parallell, no? All I'm really getting at is that we're all selling something, often at the cost of honoring our true selves. It begins to suck us dry. There has to be a better way.
I've discovered that this discerning eye would rather read the news and untangle fashion dilemmas. When I began working here, the MSN homepage would pop up again and again and I would wonder, "Who has time to read this crap?" Well friends, now I know. They are people with jobs so completely pointless (which are, ironically, the only ones at which someone like me can make a living wage) they must consume this fluff to distract their fried brains from the task at hand. Seriously. Do you remember that '80s commercial with the egg and the frying pan, "this is your brain, this is your brain on drugs..."? Well, there should be a new version for the new millennium: This is your brain. This is your brain on data entry (fry, fry, fry). People need to be warned.
I just keep asking myself, is it worth it? What are my options?!?! No wonder we live in a nation of caffeine and pharmacutical addicted overeaters. In fact, on a certain level this office is not unlike the pimpin' street scene. Replace the crack with coffee, the dope with food (preferrably of the fattening or sugary variety) or anti-depressants and you're on your way. We've got Big Daddy in the head office and all the little ladies (plus one gigilo in this case) running around, drumming up business and otherwise doing his bidding. He can throw one of us out on our ass at any time he so chooses, but for now, as a team we're bringin' in the cash. Okay, okay, we're not selling our bodies and we're not addicted to serious drugs, but it's still an interesting parallell, no? All I'm really getting at is that we're all selling something, often at the cost of honoring our true selves. It begins to suck us dry. There has to be a better way.
posted by fashion skool at 10:09 AM
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