I don't even do my work anymore. I sit here and I stare....
I look at girls I want to screw. I email people, fuck around...
I am the poster boy for unproductively.
is that a word?
I'm like a demented version of "Office Space".
Good movie, check it out.
There comes a point when you look at the pile of paper on your desk
and say "NO".
No I do not want to do this. This is not fun. This is not really
helping
anyone.
And while I'm saying NO to my work (I wonder how long that will last without
getting a friendly email from my supervisor) everyone around me is saying
YES to something else.
Food.
The one thing about this place you can't dismiss, they keep you well fed.
You put in a hundred orders today? congratulations! Here's some pizza!
Today is Lucky Tuesday people! Have some cake!
Seems generous doesn't it? Sure it does. Who doesn't like to snack
every now and then? But every now and then becomes ALL THE TIME,
and it is a plan. The food in this place is just as strong as any
chain, link, or cuff that was ever in any prison. They feed you.
They keep feeding you. You get big. Very Very big. They feed
you
some more. Suddenly you find it harder and harder to leave your
cubicle. After awhile it becomes downright painful. And you think
well....I don't really have to get up now do I? They're going to feed
me
anyway. I'll just sit here and work...
and work....
and work....
and work...
and eat...
The hellish cycle of routine becomes even more sinister when you
play the food game. They are making us more "productive" by
turning
us into revolting, immobile blobs.
How good does that taste?