I was a fireman at one hot point in my life. It wasn’t the worst gig I’ve ever had, but it was no day at the beach. During my rookie year, I got hosed for always sleeping in. The other guys used to haze me by lighting matches and putting them out in my ears. I don’t care what you say, ear wax isn’t for candles. My fire chief would get all steamed about my work ethic. He always said that I shouldn’t try and be a hero because I’d probably accidentally kill someone. Little did he know, I only accidentally killed an old lady’s cat and an old lady. To my defense, the cat was already on fire. After that incident, the chief (who I suspect knew nothing of it) put me on paperwork detail. To get funding for our department, he made me write these back drafts. The only thing I really liked about the job is that we went out to Buffalo Wild Wings a couple times after work and got their hottest wings: Blazin’. Besides that, I wasn’t very good at putting out fires. Fire fighting just wasn’t for me. Luckily, a job at the meat packing plant opened after one of their oldest employees didn’t show up. I was rescued. Good riddens.
I’ve been applying to jobs here and now just to appease some of my friends at the corporate office. My attitude has been that I’ve got so much on my plate there’s no real reason to be looking for a job in any serious regard. That all changed yesterday when I had an epiphany of sorts. I don’t need to work, I want to work! Although dickin’ around on the Interwebs is phenomenally entertaining and fun and keeps me busy most of the day, it just doesn’t pay a whole lot. Yeah, blogging and jerking off at the computer is work for me, but it’s not enough.

Money Talks and also sucks
Money talks and walks and I was at a baseball game once and I saw the pitcher, a crisp five-dollar bill right up from the minors miff a pitch; apparently money also balks. Money isn’t the only reason I want to work but it doesn’t hurt. Recently, I attended a Jefferson County workforce-center seminar that introduced me to the idea that working for a living isn’t all that bad. ”It’s not?” I distastefully murmured. It’s what the Communists call Utopia. It’s what I call sweet salad dressing. The delicious aftertaste to an otherwise bland heap of roughage.
Life is work. It’s just that and if the work doesn’t pay, you need to move on. So that’s what I’m proposing here. I am moving on. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still be blogging my face off and pursuing my dreams of successful dreaming. I will just be adding a paycheck to it…somehow. I hear Craigslist is popular.
If you’ve got any ideas or know a guy who is looking for my type of talent (you know? The 6’2″, handsome and well-groomed type of talent), then drop me a line. I’ll see you on the other side.
About three months ago, I decided that quitting my sh*tty job would be a good idea. Even though the action temporarily halted my night terrors and self-mutilation, it has led to a host of other problems. I have since been diagnosed and treated for depression and a disease simply known as the gay. These ailments have caused me a host of other problems that I could not have predicted. Tension is mounting between my wife and me as I sit at home all day. Despite my reluctance, there seems to be only one solution; I should get to f*cking work. Here, then, are 10 reasons that I should get a job:
10. A job provides an opportunity to have money, to give back to society, have a bigger purpose in life, meet new people and be mad at something other than my wife and the house cat

"I've been workforce ready since my conception"
9. There are no more dishes to clean and the floors are as swept as they’ll ever be
8. The fern I planted to provide me with a sense of fruitfulness and hope has died
7. Water cooler talk about Seinfeld reruns is turning me into a schizophrenic
6. I’ve been taking public buses just to see where their routes end
5. Investing money in my home business of cashing in on the Internet has amounted to numerous porn site subscriptions and dozens of pills that combat erectile dysfunction
4. My home office consists of a barcalounger, a box of colored pencils and a guitar I plan on learning
3. Anticipation of checking the mail keeps me up all night
2. Getting drinks “after work” starts at nine in the morning
-and, finally-
1. I spend more money than my wife makes
I used to work for a property management company. I leased apartments to suckers. It was a sales job and I effen hated it. I used to run home in tears from the monotony of pushing some serious units. Now usually, I’m not a quitter (Read: I am a quitter with a huge, meaty vagina), but in this case, I wanted out. However, I was afraid to quit, and I didn’t know how to tell the management I needed something else. Fortunately for me and my lady parts (see about engorged vag above), the company decided to sell the property. I felt it was the best time to get out without giving a two week notice or telling anyone that I was unhappy, thus saving myself the trouble of embarrassment. It was through this experience that I learned something about sales that I would like to share with you today. Through leasing these sh*tty apartments, I learned that for the most part, two things are true: 1.) Sales are apart of every job, and 2.) Unless you sell something that you really love, you are going to loathe it. To combat this you need to love yourself and sell a product that everyone wants: you.
Take a moment and consider every job you can think of. Time! What d’ya come up with? At some point in all of those positions, you are going to be selling either a product, an idea, or yourself. Businessmen sell ideas and products to investors and clients. Teachers sell drugs to kids. Hookers sell their bodies to businessmen for drugs. And even if a job doesn’t directly entail some salesmanship, when you apply for that job, you are still selling your skill set to the employer. You are a product of a material world. Luckily it pays cash. Cold, hard cash. You have to be a provider, right? If you don’t provide for yourself, you’re going to die sooner rather than later. Remember all of those trinkets/candy bars/books/carpet samples you sold as a kid? The system was priming you for the dog eat dog arena known as life. Now rather than fight this reality (something I tried and it made me really angry; remember my tears?), you’ll need to embrace it.
Once you accept that you have to participate in a competitive world (which is something you have little choice over), then your survival depends on selling something you love. For some folks, it’s the love selling sh*tty apartments. For some, it’s selling their bodies. For everyone, it’s selling yourself. This is a task that takes a great amount of energy and self love. (I have to point out it’s not the kind of self love that 5 minutes alone at the computer in an empty house with a bottle of Jergen’s and box of Kleenex can provide.) You have to really like yourself. If you don’t love what you’re selling, you’re going to hate the job. If you hate what you’re selling and you are the product, you are going to hate yourself. When you hate yourself or your image or your skill set, your buyers are going to recognize that and reject you. If you are rejected by someone else, you’ll feel even worse about yourself. The truth is, no matter how much you love yourself, you’re going to be rejected…a lot. With the aide of self love, however, coming back from rejection is easier to do.
The cruel reality of this is that the world you live in is unjust and unfair. Somewhere down the road, the key to your chance at personal success is held by another person. Did you read that? Your success is controlled by someone else! That sucks big, old, hairy gorilla balls! To be happy you can do and act and say whatever you want but you cannot control what other people think of you or how they react to you. You do have the ability to control your attitude, however. Your ability to sell yourself as a confident and hungry person is paramount to your personal success and happiness. If other people aren’t buying it, they can eat a bag of d*cks. There are many opportunities out there because people are always buying and it’s not hard to find them. Buyers will buy you because they like you for who you are so long as you like you for who you are.
Sales is a brutal business and is impossible to escape. If you’re not selling the filth you are absolutely passionate about, you are SOL my friend. Your happiness and self satisfaction depends on it. Your ability to sell yourself is one based out of the love that you have for yourself. You’re ego is going to be beaten and bruised along the way, but remembering what is really important to you will keep you on your horse. If you can’t manage to do that, you might as well pull the trigger now and save yourself the trouble.
Mrs. Stransard is my boss at work. Since I started working with her, our working relationship has really slipped. At first she seemed quirky and fun but now I feel threatened. I want to express my frustration with her but doing so would probably get me fired. I need this job. Here is a letter that I’ve written to her (somewhat annonymously, she doesn’t “get” technology):
Dear Mrs. Stransard,
Since my employment began nearly a year ago, I have noticed that our work relationship has gradually become uneasy and tense. I know that your mandatory attendance at corporate “meetings” is merely an excuse to frequent the head shop across the street. I didn’t realize that pipe shops were also typical hang outs for dead beat sex addicts. I have seen you go in there and come out with multiple men. The lack of communication in the office is probably due to all of the cocks shoved in your mouth throughout the day. What’s worse is that your time out of the office is the most productive time of my day.
In addition to being very distracting, I feel that your personal choices during working hours are having detrimental effects on morale in the office. Your attempts at correcting morale problems are often shot when you parade around the office half naked and drunk. Two times is way too many. The last thing I want to see at work is a 63 year old set of sagging breasts and ass cheeks painted up in clown make up. No matter what clever and colorful artistry you apply, your nipples and cesarean scars will always show how sad you really are.
I find it exceedingly difficult to complete work when you insist on playing your made up game “Stinkin’ Kitty Cat” where you lower your pants/lift your skirt, spread your bare ass, and sit on my computer mouse. Your game is spoiled more (as if it were possible) when you stand up and walk away with the mouse cord still attached to you and my computer. The suction sound that the mouse makes when it reaches the end of its tether as it pops out is one of the most unsettling noises I’ve ever heard; especially when you did it that day you were particularly sweaty.
It frightens me when you make balloon animals out of the condoms you find outside. The glue inside of them is not there to preserve the inflation…that’s clearly ejaculate. I know you know. It angers me because you don’t trust my judgment. As well you shouldn’t. I have made a poor choice by continuing to further my career here. Aside from your lack of respect for other people, I like this company and have tried to notify HR of your behavior several times. I don’t know what kind of fur you’re pulling over their eyes but they have denied any wrong doing in every instance. Unfortunately, my requests to transfer have been denied. Upon this news, I would like for you to comply with several requests otherwise I will have you arrested for indecency:
Don’t touch me EVER
Do not call me EVER
Please do not ask me to smell your cell phone or work phone
Please do not invite me to lunch at any motels
Do not leave your pubic hair clippings on the toilet in the men’s bathroom (I know their yours because you sent out a memo)
Do not sneak up behind me and rest your breasts on my head when I am at my work station
Do not put your hand on my chair thumb up when I sit down next to you
Wear deodorant
Leave me alone
You have announced several times that you are an excellent boss, but the fact is you’re not. You are a terrible manager and an even worse person. Please leave me alone and we might get along just fine.
Thank you in advance,
Wolsamnoraa

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