Monday, January 10, 2011

Breaths of Life Through a Filter

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

My colleagues agree that we are forced to deal with many undesirable people in our industry. It's a given. Even the best professionals get jilted every now and then, mainly because two or three bafoons have taken upon themselves to spread their misery and insecurities onto the majority of the biz. It's pretty obvious -- if they can't be happy, then they will make everyone else miserable.

As a result, our summer work environment is highly toxic. That's why I can't handle a full summer work session any more and welcome the respite of Phish summer tour. Shit, anything is better than the grim reality of dealing with some of these insolent tards. It's like you're stuck in a high school that's run by a Hitler youth program.

I imagine a day when a certain man-child grows up and starts treating his peers and especially his employees like actual people instead of shitting on them like indentured servants. I doubt that he has any cognitive ability anymore, blinded by his own greed and faux power that he scooped up inside a vacuum. Ironic that the very people that he's manipulated and exploited since day one are the sad cases who blindly hang on his every word, as if they wouldn't even have the air to breathe if he didn't exist. The most somber part of this equation is that the henchmen, who do all of the dirty work, think they are getting a piece of the pie, when in reality, they are worse off than the actual servants. The servants know their place, but those in charge of running the servants are so utterly clueless that they think they are the ones with the power. Nope. They are just holding the whip and facilitating the work of the grand master. It's been happening as far back as the Egyptians when the Pharaohs somehow convinced slave labor to build the pyramids. That is, if you don't believe that aliens helped construct them.

Part of the reason I wanted to be a writer is to be on my own. Live life by my own rules. I want to work for myself because I hate being told what to do by lesser intelligent people on a power trip. As a writer and operator of my own websites, I'm my own boss and don't have to pussyfoot around playing office politics and watch over my shoulder about what I tweet, or who I sit next to in the cafeteria. In the end, most of the blame lies upon the actual subjects are are foolish enough to get involved even though they know what is going to happen.... enslavement, manipulation, degradation, and exploitation. It makes me often question the purity of their intentions.

Are they that stupid? Are they that desperate? Are they that...suicidal?

I dread my summers because of the toxic fumes that stink up my two-month assignment. It used to be cool because we were all sharing a common goal, but now all everyone is concerned about is money, power, fame, and becoming the king of social media. What used to be a meeting place of like minds has transformed into pissing match among spoiled fat Berbers who sit around in diapers all days shitting themselves and waiting for their servants to wipe their asses and change them into pristine diapers, only to repeat the soiling process. God help us all if something goes wrong and then they start throwing shit at each other. And guess who gets to clean up the shit?

Well, not me. I'm not on their payroll. Thank God. I write snarky passive-aggressive blog posts about it, while holding my nose so I don't puke on my laptop as I peck away at the story. I wonder if any of my peers can update their resume with a job skill listed as "feces removal" because most of the time, that's what they are doing -- not actual work, but removing feces that their boss hurled around in a tantrum.

I imagine this is the same for a hundred other industries. Archtypes and fucktards are the same no matter if it's poker, the food industry, graphic design, or real estate. I'm sure a few of you are thinking, "How the hell does Pauly know my boss? He acts the same fucking way? I always have to clean shit off my cubicle walls."

I suppose the best thing for me to do is start manufacturing gas masks. I doubt this toxicity will ever subside unless a miracle happens and the peasant class starts a revolt and uprising. Unless the glorious revolution happens soon, I gotta suck it up and gut through the shit swamp. At least... for one for year.

Until then, looks like I'm going to have to breathe life through a charcoal filter.

No comments:

Post a Comment