If You Don’t Hate Your Job, What The Actual &$#% Is Wrong With You?

by Phil La Duke

“Who wants to do that? — Sterling Archer in response to a coworker observing that “it sounds like someone doesn’t want to do his fair share” Archer

I have always been distrustful of people who go on and on about how much they just love their jobs. I find such people disingenuous and not just irritating, but irritating in the way that a morning person wakes up an evening person who is trying to sleep off a four day bender. I feel like the people who say they love their jobs are just pouring it on a bit too thick as if they are trying very hard to convince themselves that they love their work because the alternative is just more than their souls can bear.

I hate work. Or more to the point I hate working. I don’t even like money that much — to me it’s just dirty green paper that has — depending on the denomination — either been in a movie producer’s nose, a skanky stripper’s g-string, or in a baby’s intestinal tract. No, clearly what money can buy is what is truly important. And don’t let people kid you; while it might be true that money can’t buy happiness, poverty can’t buy anything.

“I owe, I owe, so off to work I go” I didn’t write that obvious parody and I am too lazy to look up who did, but if you’re really that interested google away. I have worked since I was 13 years old and sometimes have held three or four jobs at a time. In high school, as I bemoaned my disdain for my employer, my best friend…