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The End of the Working Week

Welcome to Crazytown. Population: you.

Every morning across seven continents, 402 million people rise ahead of the sun to drag themselves into that smog-filled, oil-fuelled nightmare called the morning commute. Pounding their way along 16.2 miles of pavement, train track, or gridlocked tarmac to arrive at their Official Place of Work, most will sit down, throw six triple-espressos into throats scorched by artificial air, and rub eyes zapped by fluorescent death rays.

Those who succeed in wrenching themselves into what passes for the mortal realm are then forced to hunt down jobs to fill their day, an eight-hour stretch of meaningless meetings, the constant shrill of telephones, and having to listen to Suzie from Sales tell Sally that story about Sarah seducing Simon’s sister.

Despite all the obvious warnings, like the cubicle stress that ends in Godzilla-style office rampages, all of this is somehow considered normal. Commuting is a fact of life, isn’t it? Or perhaps, like me, you find a dark humour in wasting our lives by physically travelling to work in the Internet age. If it wasn’t so sad it might be funny.

http://putthingsoff.com/articles/end-the-working-week/

Filed under: Crazy Home
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