I've been off work for the past week as the radiation treatments left me too exhausted to do anything at all other lie around in various absurd poses.
So I go back to an office I can't stand (I figure this is a safe blog as no one from my office knows about it or any of the other ones for that matter) and I need to vent.
My co-workers are dull. They don't read. They don't go to the cinema or the theatre. They do watch TV but have learned not to tell me about it. They know nothing about art or culture. They are middle-class drones who actually believe in what they are doing (we are Disability Support Services at a large community college). They make work jokes...ha-ha! They like coming to work. They want me to like coming to work. I come to work for the paycheck...I get job satisfaction when these do-gooder harpies leave me the hell alone so I can waste the taxpayers' dollars surfing the Internet or reading books on line. I have learned that it is not important to get anything done, but look like you are accomplishing something. Looks are everything when you work for a bureaucracy.
As for the students who attend this enormous exercise in remedial futility, you think this country is fucked now, just wait until these mindless bags of protoplasm are running the show. You'll think the past 9 years was The Golden Age.
But mostly I deplore working for a living...it is such a waste of a perfectly good life that could be spent in scholarly reflection and curiosity or creative abandon. But no, our ridiculous "everyone must earn their way through life" system prevails year after year and we all celebrtae it instead of calling it out for what it really is: a soul-sucking, exploitative means of control. Think about that as you sit down first thing in the morning to that stack of papers sitting on your desk.
Me? Part of my personal revolution is not to get involved in anything other than what maintains my needs. Our budget just got cut 36% by the governor...wiped out our tutoring program among other things. So long as it doesn't touch my paycheck and benefits, I could care less what transpires. Oh, I'll put on my sad face and say all the appropriate things about what a terrible debacle this is, but the reality of it is I DON'T CARE. I care about me and mine. That is what working for a bureacracy of epic proportions will do for you.