Let’s talk about it.
Going into college I had all these plans, these dreams of grandeur, of greatness. Now, just a bit over a year from my graduation… well, it’s not to say I don’t have dreams anymore. It’s just that they tend to be more real than before.
Yes, I am a phone monkey. Why that is so is a long story, but let me start telling it anyway. Before actually getting employed I really didn’t know what to expect. I thought, hey, I know it’s a tough job and all, but maybe if I’m good at it they’ll notice my talents and I could move on to a position that’s not quite as stressful, or otherwise I could be paid well enough not to care. Both points now seem incorrect; any position within the industry will be just as stressful as my current job (if not more so), and there’s not enough money in the world to numb me to the sense of futility that looms over me like some dark curtain.
At this point I approach my work as some sort of scholar filming a documentary on the subject. Look upon them, I would say. Observe the seething rage boiling from within, the search for an outlet while finding none readily available, what with the threat of termination ever present. Fascinating, isn’t it?
Which is not to say I consider myself “above” my peers by any means. Disinterested, more like. Dispassionate. Indeed, there is very little (if anything at all) that makes me passionate about my current line of work. That, I think, is inherent in the industry. Why would you be passionate about knowing you didn’t screw up? Where’s the sense of fulfillment in minimizing mistakes when you could be making your own as part of sticking your neck out for the sake of something larger than yourself?
But going back to my peers. It’s quite easy to dismiss people in my line of work and, truth to tell, I’ve heard quite a bit of negative feedback in my time. But that’s always from the outside looking in, and no disrespect, but it’s really quite different when you’re in the fray. Attitude problems tend to stem from the atmosphere of the place, force fed to people otherwise quite sensible and bestowing upon them a sense of self-confidence that tends to come off as run-of-the-mill arrogance, when in fact this is just one of several ways to cope with the fact that you’re essentially getting paid to eat shit for a living. It’s not one I subscribe to, at least I don’t think so, but far be it from me to criticize what a man has to do to get through the day (personally, I console myself by watching inspirational videos every other night or so).
To sum, I honestly have nothing but respect for the people who choose to tough it out. It isn’t easy, I can tell you that much. The people around my office, in particular… put simply, it’s a great bunch. There’s the occasional prick here and there, but I don’t take that against anybody really. I’d be a prick too if I were forced to stay for an extended period of time.
As for that, I’d like to think I’m able to endure the challenge presented by my work, just unwilling to do so, at least not in the face of even a handful of feasible alternatives. It does feel like such a cop out, going back to school. It’s not unlike running under mother’s skirt when the other kids’ teasing gets to be a bit much. But there is opportunity, ready and waiting, as a fruit dangling from a low-hanging branch just begging to be picked and eaten. I realize it’s taking advantage, but I feel it’s something everybody does at some point or another. I’m just hoping I can pay it forward, so to speak, in the not-too-distant future.
I remember a time when I cursed the fact that my family was quite capable of supporting myself and my sisters. I thought the reason I was so messed up was because we had it so easy, and the only way to build any real character was to grow up in a life of adversity. If I met that former self of mine, I would pat him on the shoulder and smile. And then I would kick the shit out of him.
Fuck you, former self.
On the one hand, it shames me that, at this venture, I still depend on my parents. On the other hand, I feel truly blessed and eternally grateful. I’m given a chance to go out into the world and find what path I am most like to follow. That’s something few people are able to do, as fate has this tendency of messing with people’s lives.
Of course that is always a possibility–an error here, an accident there–so I may end up back to where I started. That much is acceptable. I mean, if that’s what the future has in store for me, then so be it. That being the case I would eke out a living with no complaints.
But I’ll be damned if I quit before I give myself a chance to fail.
