I’ve been fortunate enough to have enjoyed most of my jobs. And even if I’m lying to you right now, the majority of my jobs were at Disney, and if you think that I’m going to dish the dirt on working for Disney, think again: that truth will out once I’m well-out of the sue-able range. My bank account is a fragile thing.
But I think we’ve all had days even in the best of jobs where the monotony of being there and smiling at idiots and watching the cursor in Microsoft Word blink gets to you. Morale plunges. Minutes last for days. You eat crappy little peanut butter crackers because gluttony at least gives you something to work toward. You stare out the window into the parking lot because the action in the parking lot is suddenly hot shit; I mean, look, Sheila is PARKING in Chelsea’s usual spot. Wow. That’s going to get nuclear fast. And then you realize that you’re giving serious thought to other people’s parking habits and you want to go cry in the bathroom about how far you’ve plummeted from the lofty-rafters of “I’m going to be famous some day” to “Maybe I’ll drink Maalox straight out of the bottle”.
On these days, my coworkers and I made efforts to band together. At a job where the shift started at 4:00am, we rewired the office’s tiny WALL-E robot to dance to 50 Cent at the spoken queue of: “Yo WALL-E, it’s yer berfday”. At another job where the shift started at 8:00pm and we were batshit insane by 3:00am, we drew portraits of one another in Microsoft Paint. At a customer service job, we used to read comments in various customer files of sheer stupidity, meanness, and inanity, and give out awards to whoever was the biggest entitled dumbfuck of the day. And when days were really bad, we played a very simple game: using only typical office supplies, figure out a way to kill ourselves before the world corrupts our individuality and usurps our unique abilities to power through its typical obscene functions. I’m 99% sure we stole it from some computer game floating around the web in the last ten years, so in no way do I claim this is original. But since said game was usually blocked, we had to do it oldschool instead. I usually died from stapling myself repeatedly in the jugular because I’m so hardcore like that. Another brave soul choked on a urinal cake. Please note: no disgruntled coworkers died in this game, as our methods of execution were entirely hypothetical.
We did, however, create masking tape outlines of our corpses on the floor for the next shift to clean up. I’m sure they loved us.
So thank you, various coworkers along the way, for helping me keep my sanity. Keep on Photoshopping people in illegal positions with Steve Buscemi. Keep on hiding someone’s desktop icons when they forget to lock their computer like a n00b. Keep on sneaking vodka in Vitamin Water bottles and taking quiet shots whenever Ken says “oolitic limestone”. Keep on enabling a stunning lack of productivity. It’s the only way that we can stay productive.