We’ve all heard it.
This job sucks.
Well, my son – consider the freaking alternative. I have been unemployed and I have likewise worked as a janitor, an industrial cleaner, and a shoveler of dead fish. I have crawled through the guts of a cotton mill in a shaft no bigger than a nostril hole kicking and clawing and pushing the accumulated cotton fibers ahead of me until I felt as if I had been reincarnated as a bit of dandelion dandruff.
I have stood shoving thousands – no exaggeration – of boards into a hungry double-bladed table saw in a single freaking day. Over thirty years ago, and my back is still sore just thinking of it.
My feet get sore just talking about it.
My head aches, just thinking about it.
In fact, I can still smell the reek of some of the places I have worked in.
Let me tell you – I have worked at some abysmally sucky jobs.
At the end of the day you go home and you put it all behind you and you have a beer and you watch a John Wayne movie on television and you do your best to forget all about it until the next shift.
Bitching and moaning only makes the suckiness all the more intensive.
Yours in storytelling,