Note to Self: I Hate My Job


I, like many of you, hate my job. I don’t hate to the point that I cry everytime I get up in the morning, but I’m getting there. Which is pretty funny when I think about it. For all intent and purposes, I should be very satisfied. First, I have a job; I make decent money; I’m in a position of importance in my organization; most of the people I work with are awesome; and the work that I do enables others to save lives. But I can’t stand this shit!

Let me clarify things a bit. I work for the Federal Government. Which in this economy, is about as recession proof as you can get for the average person nowadays. But just like our elected officials suck, so do the rest of the leaders, for the most part, suck throughout the government. At least from my experience. I have just seen way too much bullshit happen during my tenure to feel otherwise. The politics alone are enough to make you want to throw-up. I seriously feel like sometimes I’m acting in a soap opera. It’s downright depressing. I have little to no job satisfaction. But hey, I got to pay the bills, right?

A business professor once told me, you know you have the right job when if you win the lottery tomorrow, you will still do the same thing. He said that he fell in that category, because he loves teaching that much. Even though I was admiring his wisdom at the time, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Fuck you! You lucky bastard!” . Yeah I was having a hater moment, bite me! I would love to be able to say that.

I think about the stuff I love to do, which basically boils down to sex, football (American Style), and writing. Looking for a career in sex leaves me with the options of gigolo and porn star. While both options seem promising, I don’t think my wife would approve much. I’m nowhere near talented enough to be in the NFL, so I’m restricted to just watching it on television, which pays nothing. So that leaves writing. I love writing on this blog, but I just don’t have enough time to dedicate to it. Besides, I don’t have enough of you fuckers following me anyway. At least not yet. I hope I didn’t offend anybody. I meant fuckers in the most loving and appreciative way possible.

So I guess I’m stuck for right now. Unless I can get a blog dedicated to football fanatic nymphos to become a hit. What do you all think about ” Touchdowns and 69s”, or “4th and Fornication” for titles? Anyway, I guess I just have to suck it up. No pun intended. I should get back to work now. Don’t want to waste Uncle Sam’s money.

II Cents

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About iicents

I am who I am. Who I am has been forged in the fires of trials and the steel of tribulations. Built strong enough to strike a fearsome blow upon life, but sturdy enough to handle the recoils of hardship that it brings. I am a product of my mistakes, wrapped in a vessel of understanding. I know that the future is mine to mold and the past is ONLY a reminder of the events that have shaped me. I am of unique design that nothing earthly could ever alter or duplicate. Grateful. A troubled soul still searching for peace within. My road may be long, and my journey is grueling. But the blanket that comforts me is knowing that I am a capable traveler. This is my definition. This is who I AM. View all posts by iicents

One response to “Note to Self: I Hate My Job

  • Club Vera

    Well I can’t pay you, but I’ll continue to read for free whilst putting up with your derogatory comments aimed at your readership. Keep me entertained with your shitty work life.

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