I don't have much to say, anymore, and I don't want to write about work, but today my boss told me I'm "very good at filling in forms." He said it as a compliment, and I made a joke about it--I'll put it on my resume!--but then he insisted that it was indeed a skill that not everyone was capable of, example this guy... I took the form (already completed by this guy--shoddily, we can only assume) and prepared to copy the information over to a template of the exact same form but in a Word file, and with his words still echoing in my head I started thinking about what else I am good at at work. Printing checks and putting them in envelopes and mailing them. I am goddamn good at that, I thought. Then I thought, goddammit.
And this is not about the little girl with dreams of being a veterinarian/teacher/librarian and how strange she would have thought it had she known that the pinnacle of her professional achievements would consist of sealing envelopes, I swear to god it's not. It's more about how many people are working so far below their abilities; me and every other person who could easily be replaced by a trained monkey at their place of employment; and it's not a judgement, but more just a reflection on what the world could be if everyone in it was doing everything they are capable of. But if everyone was doing everything they are capable of, then who would fill in the forms? Who would seal the envelopes? But you know, it's not that I mind doing those things. And if I was doing those things as a necessary part of my Very Important and Challenging Yet Rewarding Work, then I would be absolutely fine with that. It's not that I feel like it's beneath me, or anything. But when those things are all there is, then suddenly, it's like, shit, man... This is all there is.
I feel like I need to add a caveat here, stating that, as always, this post is not about you. I am not judging your job or aspirations. It can be great to have an easy and boring job; I know this. To get paid for doing it! It seems almost insane if you think about it too closely. I know it's a gift horse. And I'm staring right into its gaping maw.
The thing is, I am not doing anything else of consequence with my life, at the moment. I am not doing this job and raising a family. Or doing this job and going out every night. Or doing this job and any other thing that might make it all worthwhile. So when I work myself into a hand-wringing panic wondering if this is all there is, the worst part is knowing that actually, it kind of is.
And look! I have managed to write yet another goddamned depressing post that makes people not want to look me directly in the eye.
Call it even?