And Lo! A new voice among the din in his head spoke, and it spoke forcefully, filled with loathing and bile:
You pathetic piece of shit! You keep on moaning about how unhappy you are at work, and for what? You get paid a good salary, you work sane hours, you have a reasonable amount of vacation, and your job doesn't abuse your body (and don't even think about complaining about your wrist sometimes hurting -- repetitive stress syndrome is nothing compared to black lung, just to name one example. Besides, if you quit playing on the internet in the evening, it wouldn't hurt so much). Think about all the people in the world and the work they have to do -- for so many of them, their wages barely allow enough to survive, and they work 70+ hour weeks, with minimal or no vacation. The only thing they like about their job(s) is that they have one (or two). You might live in an age, and in a country, where this is unusual, but historically, this has been the rule, not the exception. And you have the chutzpah to be unhappy with a desk job that won't leave you crippled after working it for a lifetime -- you'll be able to retire at a fairly young age, quite possibly in decent health and with the expectation of many years left to enjoy. What the Hell does happiness have to do with work? Be grateful you have so many hours away from work, and your job gives you the money to enjoy this time. Yeah -- there are all these self-help books, trying to help you figure out what job you can take that you'll love, and you know what? These books' authors have such a job, because they find it fulfilling to make an easy buck off of unhappy suckers like you. Who the fuck are they to suggest that work should make you happy and be fulfilling? Work should pay the rent. Now shut up, and get back to making a decent living.