No Offense Meant to Your Innate Sensibilities

Take a former high-speed military guy, add a flagrantly narrow view of music and the arts, ignite the passion and conviction that so often come only in later years, mix in 30 years of psycho-spiritual experimentation, a healthy belief that the Ashkenazi and Sephardics really ARE the REAL Jews, add a dollop of cancer and poverty and VOILA! I have come.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Live to work, Work to live...

Oh my. I hate my job.

I didn't just discover this. No, I've known it for quite some time now. After forty solid years of work I've been consigned to the low-income lower middle class dung-heap. Some of it is geographical, some of it is economical, some of it is dumb luck and quite a lot of it is due to my self-destructive and rebellious refusal to comply and to be mundane.

And, while life is unfair, I just feel it's quite a travesty for me to be yelled at for a living. Not sure how much time you might have left and want the rest of your days to be at least passably pleasant? Do not go to work in customer service, especially not for the phone company. These devils have been sticking it to people for years and now that they've found themselves under attack by thousands of unhappy customers, they hire a few unsuspecting dupes to field the phone calls of bitterness, disappointment and anger.

All this without as much as a kiss or a reach-around.

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