Furthest Right

Your Office Is A Coffin


Don’t sit still and just take it. It’s killing you. One boring day at a time, your office job is eating away your life. Your cublicle is a veal-fattening pen. A study published in Lancet tells us the following:

Research on more than one million adults found that sitting for at least eight hours a day could increase the risk of premature death by up to 60 per cent. Scientists said sedentary lifestyles were now posing as great a threat to public health as smoking, and were causing more deaths than obesity. They urged anyone spending hours at their desk to change….

This can be fixed if you make yourself stronger. If you work out one hour per day, your mortality rate drops from 9.9% to 6.2%. The ways that sitting on your can kill you involve cancer and heart disease. I could of sworn my previous boss made it a tacit policy to try and give his employees cancer. If it could be spread verbally, this guy would pass it out like Zika.

The researchers failed to pinpoint exactly how the office kills us as we sit there and take it, but I think Jean Paul Sartre offers insight. “Hell,” He explained, “consists of other people.”

The office is a mecca of hurry up and wait. It is a cesspool of needless stress over utterly unimportant details. It is a dog pound of egocentric jerks who work out their gender inadequacies by bullying and degrading their subordinates. It is a minefield of passive-aggressive back-knifing and visceral resentment. Like the Los Angeles River, it leaves you swimming in the fecal bacteria of toxic and abusive human relationships.

And what do you get in return? A check. Once every two weeks, your financial gas tank gets refilled. You climb back onto the hedonic treadmill and buy food, entertainment and shelter. You crap it out, go back into debt, get up Monday and strap the helmet on to take more crap to get more cash. You don’t find meaning. You rarely accomplish greatness. I’ve attempted to do more. I’ve pushed myself to go above and beyond. The d-bag boss then said. “Thanks. Watch me promote myself by stealing this idea and taking all the credit.”

In a righteous world, you could strap on your pistol and tell the son of a b!tch to choose his two seconds and meet you at dawn. But you can’t do that here in the hell of Amerika. You can try and sue the man. You can try to defame him. The long and well-renumerated careers of people like Hillary Clinton and Martin Shkreli put the lie to that. And that’s another thing that makes the office lethal. It rises the meanest, most shameless arse-fickers and soulless catamites to positions of unearned granduer. It gives every toxic pissant a hill from which they can urinate upon the hapless and the desperate.

Work is the toxic, evil business-end of the economics of modernity. If you value your entire lifespan and want your life to come freighted with legitimate meaning, find another way to define yourself as a human being. That, and get off your dead @$$ and hit the track or the gym. Otherwise, every day is as deadly as a coffin nail.

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