My average workday features two speeds: bored and swamped. So swamped I want to, and usually do, cry. You know, your eyes fill with tears, your nose tingles, and the Gunnery Sergeant Hartman in your mind screams, "No Private Pyle, you disgusting fat body. You are not going to cry you namby pamby. No way maggot! Get off my obstacle!" Fast or slow. Black or white. My job is a bipolar chick off her meds.
At work, I get paranoid bored, eyes darting back and forth between the corners of the ceiling, searching for the secret camera installed one dark and stormy night to ensure I'm fit, healthy and productive -- The All Seeing Eye. I'm apprehensive to use Internet Explorer to search online even though it's set to not record history because they could be watching some other way, some super techie sneaky way that's above my pay grade. Watching for what? Who knows.
It's notsomuch I fear they'll poo poo the contents of my search history. I'm more concerned they'll frown at my wasting worktime. You see, I'm not an unproductive Patrick Bateman, masquerading as a Wall Street investment banker while my workday consists of jamming out to "Lady in Red" by Chris de Burgh at full blast on my Walkman and skimming S&M porn. Oh, and I'm not a serial killer.
So there's that.
I somewhat enjoy accomplishing the task at hand at my day job, so when there's work to be done I dive in head first. My worry is the powers that be (All Seeing Eye) will assume my Internet usage is procrastination, when in fact it is me unengaged. Then there will be the awkward e-mail, or heaven forbid face-to-face confrontation, where I will be forced to admit they aren't giving me enough tasks, which, in my line of work, means I'm not needed full time. Yikes.
Obviously this All Seeing Eye is nonsense but when you are behaving badly, even semi-naughty, you usually get paranoid -- which is related to guilt. Catholic guilt, Jewish guilt, Muslim guilt, shitty parent guilt, overindulging in booze with a grand finale of nachos and cookies at 3 a.m. guilt ...
Anyway, what's your go to when bored at work? Do you attempt a productive activity, like balancing your checkbook, paying bills, accomplishing something you've put off for days so you don't need to take care of it later when not at work? Of course not. You Facebook stalk friends and frienemies, check Twitter for breaking updates from US Weekly or sports news, and check your e-mail. You hit update on these three -- the axis of evil.
You look at the clock -- are the hands moving backwards? Tick tock tick tock tick tock -- they are totally moving backwards and that ticking is loud. Finally, something to do comes in. You're almost giddy with excitement for doing work while at work -- so lame. You get busy at the task at hand and become lost in the world of whatever it is you do -- law, sales, graphic design -- because they are paying you. You finish the task and lo and behold, you've burned 7 minutes. Seven minutes? Sigh.
You check Twitter again and learn Arnold Schwarzenegger didn't realize he'd fathered a child out of wedlock until the boy started looking like him -- obvious hard hitting news. George Michael seeks treatment for anxiety -- I'd be anxious if I was him too. Honey Boo Boo's family got a raise -- you brace yourself for the end of the world. You text message your friend, "What's up?" You check Facebook and notice the political rants slowed, which is comforting, but the amount of insatiable self-centered friends makes for boring content. "You've got to be kidding me." Or the irritating quote post, like "Shake like you're famous girl."
You're too bored to comment to find out why they're posting this passive aggressive crap. Anyway, now you're bored of being bored. You look at vacation pictures of friends you hardly know and sigh. Back to Twitter, nothing new. Now the super guilt -- guilt for having nothing to do and guilt for not being productive while bored. It's hard enough to sit inside an office with windows, peering out to a beautiful, sunny and 65 degree fall day like you're in Alcatraz, staring out between prison bars at beautiful San Fransisco, yearning for freedom, but knowing you're further complicating this by not only wasting this beautiful day at work (and a day of your life -- tick tock tick tock) but at work while there's nothing to do, well it's sad.
Yet I know if I had the day off I'd probably spend it at home, in bed, watching crappy television while filled with guilt over being unproductive so ... maybe I deserve this. Also, when I am busy with tasks at work, that's when I feel the productive urge: track my spending (maybe even getting freaky nerdy with it and create a spreadsheet), send birthday cards, order an item from Amazon. This urge is related to the mind racing before bed, which is coupled with the urge to clean your bathroom or do the dishes at 11 p.m. because you should be doing something else than sleeping.
Humans often don't want to do something while doing it and don't live life in the moment. We live in our minds, in the past or the future, and work at random jobs that suck our lives away, moment by moment, because of the Almighty Dollar.
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