Neo Was Lied To

9 01 2012

So I was running around work last night slinking from wall to wall like a ninja (or how I imagine a ninja would slink. Do Ninja slink?) while humming a tune from the Matrix. You know the one from the first movie when Neo and Trinity storm the lobby of the building on the way to spring Morpheus from certain doom? Or at least spilling his guts about the resistance. Or the time he took the Nebuchadnezzar joy riding through the sewers after figuring out how to brew moonshine in his basement.

Did the houses that people had in the matrix movies (The Matrices?) have basements? They were sort of like massive apartment complexes. Maybe there was a community basement. He must have shared the moonshine. I know what’s in the blue pill!

How’s that for anticlimactic?

Sorry Neo, all this “Matrix” crap you’ve been babbling about? Yeah, that’s the alcohol poisoning talking. Shhhhhh, it’s okay. Yes, you’re techno-Jesus, we know. It’s alright, lay down. Shhhhh.

Right. So about work.

Despite what the previous statements may make it seem like, I am actually productive at work. Super productive. I’m like the King of Paper Work around here. THE KING.

So, I’m bounding from wall to wall, doing really cool front-facing-rolls around corners, and drop kicking the office doors to DEATH! Grounds is always coming into the office like, “What the hell man, what keeps happening to all the doors? It’s like they spontaneously blow up every night. Every single night.”

That was a bit over the top wasn’t it? You know what, that last bit, totally not true. Security, if you’re reading this, there’s no way you’re going to see it on the cameras. Because I’m just. That. Fast. And yes there is a point coming.

There is something about the world of “professionalism” that’s seriously lacking. Regardless of your vocation there is one thing that remains true. (Speaking from my own work experience running a go-kart track, working in a concessions place whose idea of cooking was fry the hell out of whatever was in the back. Plus a couple of other clerical jobs that spanned anywhere from mind-numbing to somewhat fulfilling.)

Holy crap there was a lot inside those parenthesis. Nearly forgot the moral I was relaying.

You have to OWN IT! I’m telling you, any sort of job you have, no matter bad it is, you must have fun with it. It could be the most soul-crushing, life-stealing Succubi of a career that not even Mike Rowe would consider pursuing, you need to find the silver in it. The lining that is.

I’m always having a good time at work. Thus I force those around me to enjoy it too. Or else. It makes the soul crushing a little softer. It throttles the life sucking Succubi down to something a little less like a freaking hurricane-force wind. And there are puppies and rainbows and everyone gets to eat cake.

Maybe it’s not that great. Puppies? Sure. Rainbows? Meeeehhh. And the cake? Well, everyone knows that’s just a huge bloody lie anyway!

Find the happy.

Find the happy.

Find the happy.

Or else…

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