Be ambitious.
You don’t have to sit in that cramped little cubicle that smells like your sister’s breath. You can arise, you can attain! To this purpose, you keep on the lookout for new and higher positions where your typing skills will shine. Clack, clack, clack, clack. No one can clack that fucking keyboard like you. Even when other colleagues show a higher intellect and are obvious candidates for advancement, you don’t let that deter you. Instead, you seek to make them feel comfortable. You are not their competitor. You are their faithful, discreet confidante. For instance, you told that woman in Accounting with the lumpy skin and bad posture she was your favorite coworker but it’s not like you meant it. So what if later you went behind her back and told the big boss she made fun of his toupee and said he reminded her of garbage soaked in sunshine? So what if it was really you who made those comments? That has nothing do with him firing her and you getting her job. Everybody in this world knows that to get what you want you must have allies who will happily throw themselves on the office carpet for you as you walk on their backs to a better and brighter future. That promotion will be yours and you will get your very own office with your very own toilet. That’s all that matters.
We are trained from childhood to achieve, accomplish and surpass each other. Get the grades, go to college, buy that ornamental degree and be impressive at that interview so you can spend all day in a fucking cubicle wishing you were walking on a beach in Maui with your stomach oily and your feet licked by the waves.
Suppose economic survival depended not on physical power or mechanical ability but solely on whatever sustenance of ideas your brain delivered. My brain behaves as an unemployed, overweight, 48-year-old man in boxer shorts who sleeps on his mother’s couch. How do I arouse his interest and thus promote a confident activity? The answer lies in fear: the fear of continuing along a road of nothing and decaying into the very pus of failure.
I am not gregarious enough to engage in prostitution. Nor am I inclined to serve as Chancellor of Germany. Therefore, it would seem my current chance at attaining a stable source of income depends on my ability to gather and retain trade knowledge and the opportunity to apply said knowledge in corporate activities that will eventually leave me frustrated and unable to articulate coherent sentences.
So how do I survive? How do I manage to use my fantastic acumen of living in fear to obtain more than $10 in my wallet? The choices are numerous and I could attempt them all. Except, to my body, this means I would have to get out of bed in the mornings and put on pants.
© Cejijunto
cejijunto 