Can This Be My 9-5?

One Qualm To Rule Them All

Anyone else working a glamorous 9-5 job may even resonate with this. And I hope you do. I hope with every you sentence you nod and think to yourself, “Hey. This work complainer is right.” I hope it warms your heart as much as a stolen Green Mountain cup of coffee warms a homeless person’s heart.

Now I understand why people who trespass on the abandoned, yet somehow still private property are not pulling in Daniel-Jones-new-contract-type money. I’m even willing to settle for the potential incentives ($35 million). Let’s say hypothetically – that deal landed. A community man such as I would never keep all that for myself. No. At least $5 million would go to the distribution of NFTs to retirement homes. Them attempting to make sense of that is just about the best entertainment money could buy.

Dipping in and out of abandoned mental asylums (or shall I say Urbex) and writing about them for a living isn’t asking for much. Sure, there is literally no existing group in society that will benefit from my efforts directly. However, if I do it enough times, the W.H.O. can study the effects of asbestos on an already limp brain. 

I’m not nearly as progressive as the other college graduates in terms of work. In fact, I still go into office 5 days a week. Not even provided a company laptop. Antiquated, right? Boomers 6-feet under are rolling at that sentence. Well this modern day sla-… tough commute I make each day hinders my ability to do what I enjoy most – mediocre blogging. 

It’s wildly unrealistic of the world to expect anyone to work, and then drive an hour and a half to snap some photos of a half-collapsed Jewish resort. Even harder? Complaining about it on paper at work. I haven’t even started typing yet. I might have won those 6-feet-under boomers back over just yet.

Proper employment in the corporate world with a decent salary and dental insurance is a sheep’s game. If only I could stay in the safety of my mother’s home until I’m 37 with this laptop and a crippling addiction of some degree. A dream, to say the least. One day I will stop dotting my t’s and uncross my i’s and get a real life. Until then, work it is.

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