Today was just a Monday. Post-holiday. Post-apocolyptic. I don't hate my job. The work is generally interesting and benignly meaningful. I hate the Tower. I hate the air and the color and the harshness. I hate the soul-murdering system that makes decent people abdicate and shitty people permanant. I hate not being able to control when the lights go out in my office and I hate walking through smoke to get into the building.
And, perhaps most of all, I hate the mentality of absolute minimum. What is the absolute minimum we can (do, provide, pay, expect) to provide for our (employees, constituents, bosses, planet)? What is the absolute minimum length of paper towels that we can provide and still say that we provide paper towels? What is the least we can pay you and still get everything we need out of you with a minimal of hassle?
Nothing is maximum. What is the maximum amount of creativity we can inspire in our employees to bring the maximum amount of joy to the world? Nope.
And so every day I'm there I die a little inside. I become more of the SOT gray, that harsh, flourescent Soviet shade of despair. I don't want to be anyone's minimum. How long can I deal with this bullshit? I want to work somewhere that I make more money and have more color and engender more life and don't get disgusted by the absolute minimum. I bequeath that to Dr. VAJAYJAY and she can have my sloppy seconds.
I hope I hear from the Union soon. I think I could like working there and being the one who brings color and life and engagement. However, I need to remember that even if nothing happens, nothing changes, new positions are given to others, that this is not the end for me. I can continue to look for something amazing.
http://youtu.be/q3VPt2BSFn0
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