Some Jobs Suck, but This One’s a Hoover
So, have you just realized that boss is a four-letter word? Is your dream job a nightmare?
Wake up and smell the office supplies! It’s not that bad! Actually, it’s worse!
Fret not. Realizing that you are in a job that is sucking life, love, and everything good out of you happens in seven distinct stages, which were recently charted by noted occupational psychologist Elisabeth Fumbler Toss. Knowing these stages will help you process your feelings of “what the fuck am I doing with my life?” and turn them into a surly "whaddaya want?"
The Seven Stages of Hating Your Job
Shock & Disbelief
The initial shock of realization can be painful, like a copy machine cover slamming down on your hand.
Can this place really be this fucked up? Yes, it can!
Once the initial shock wears off, you might start doubting yourself. Surely, you might tell yourself, I must be wrong. I’ve only been here for ten minutes. How can I already be thinking this place is seriously fucked up?
Because it is.
But you can’t let yourself believe that, can you? Because then you would have to admit that you signed up for this soul-sucking, life-draining, hell-isn’t-other-people-it’s-a-job job.
Ah, denial… it ain’t just a river… it’s also a security blanket!
The truth kicks in, and then… oh, boy, it’s an ugly, ugly truth.
“But, wait,” you say. “Maybe I can make it work! Maybe I can figure something out to reduce the sucking force.”
And maybe you can learn how to make chicken salad out of chicken shit, too!
And then it hits you, as obvious as a “Could you please put the toilet seat back up, people?” sign in the unisex bathroom: you signed yourself up for this. Willingly.
Sure, there’s the whole bit about needing an income in order to eat, drink, drink, and drink. But if you had gone to law school like your mother wanted, you could be in a law firm instead of this hellhole. And, well, if this hellhole is a law firm, then of course you realize you signed up for three soul-sucking years of law school and law school debt in order to take this soul-sucking job in a soul-sucking profession.
But please, in the guilt phase, stop banging your head against the desk. It only makes the hangover worse.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Seriously: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Go ahead, let it out. Because if you don’t, you might find the words “Fuck. You.” flying out of your mouth right when you least expect it. Like when you’re talking to your [prick/cunt] of a boss.
Oh, fuck.
So now there's no denying the ugly reality: this job sucks. Like that vaccuum they sell on infomercials that never loses suction.
The danger of the depression phase is that you let yourself get sucked into the swirlie and let things slip. Which will cause your boss to come down on you. Which will suck. Which will drag you down further.
The only healthy coping strategy in the depression phase is to self-medicate with strong drugs and stiff drinks. (Just stay away from the ugly chick at the end of the bar. Because that would suck. Which would propel you to drink again. Which....)
But finally you realize that (1) your job sucks, and (2) it just sucks. It's not you; it's the job.
And there's really nothing you can do about it but quit or take up strong drink.
And play the lottery. Because your luck has nowhere to go but up, right?
Right?
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