Disclaimer: I neither take part in nor condone the following statements.
1. Dick around as much as possible.
“I’d say in a given week I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual, work.”
Whether it is chatting with coworkers, playing pranks on coworkers, or watching netflix on your iphone while on the toliet, dick around as much as possible. After catching up with the rumor mill and successfully hiding your coworker’s phone in the air duct, that is two hours right there.
2. Eat out for lunch and take at least a half hour longer than planned.*
It is good to get out of the office for lunch as it really breaks up the day. Besides, a half hour wasted is a half hour closer to 5:00!
*Though it may seem tempting, do not have a drink with lunch, not even beer. It seems like a good idea and I am usually in favor of inappropriate drunkenness but when you get back to work you have to actually think a little bit plus the florescent lighting makes you skip happy drunk time and gives you an immediate hangover. Wait till after work friend, then drink yourself into oblivion. Also, loose lips + coworkers = an awkward conversation about how you really feel about them and/or a sexual harassment suit.
3. Buy crap you don’t need. An excellent choice:
If this isn’t hope, I don’t know what is
During dicking around time at work, think about/search online the next thing you want to buy. Since working full time day in and day out has made you dead inside, you have to fill that void with meaningless objects that were made in China. It gives you something to look forward to since not much is going to change until you retire.
Lather, rinse, repeat until you are obese because the only walking you are doing is to the bathroom and to your car if you couldn’t find a close enough parking spot. More about parking lots here.
Nothing is natural about sitting down in front of a computer and working 8 hours a day with people we probably don’t like. But somehow for many many people, this is their lives. This is not necessarily the company’s fault. It is just the nature of the work. We sit in traffic, sit at our desks, then sit when we get home because mentally tired sometimes is worse than physically tired.
We are told to study something we love in school so we can do something we love. But how many people can honestly say they love their jobs? We don’t think of our careers realistically. If we are lucky enough to actually be employed after we graduate, what then? We are always looking forward to the next milepost– graduate elementary school, then middle school, then high school, try to get in a good college, graduate from college. It seems to stop once you are employed. The best possible outcome is that you are with your company until you retire, so 65 or never. That’s what you have to look forward to? Retirement?
The reasonable answer is to quit your job, sell all of your earthly possessions, and join a commune.
Naked gardening ftw!
This way, we are working with people we love, getting moderate exercise, and living off land. We see our achievements in real, tangible ways like growing our own food and making our own clothes. This was a popular idea in hippy-times. It is how we used to live not too long ago. It is what this country was built on. Owning your own land, being your own boss, living off of your land. It’s the American dream. But what happened to the communes? Is it like communism? Good in theory, bad in execution?
I’ve researched a bit about communes. They prefer to call themselves “intentional communities,” I suppose the idea being you are choosing who you are living near and to participate in activities with them. There are even sorts of “will you join a commune with me” listings. Some are in cities, like Seattle and San Francisco, others boast plentiful acres of land and independent power sources. But doesn’t this feel a bit unnatural? I was half-jokingly trying to convince my man-friend in joining one with me and he seemed all on board . . . as long as there were no other people. Wouldn’t that just be glorified camping forever? Currently, we live in an artist’s housing community. The first floor is a community center for neighborhood youth with a recording studio, theater, and dance studio, and the top three floors are artists’ apartments. Some artists are very involved with community events, some not so much. In any case, there has been this obvious shift to consciously decide the community you are a part of. The problem, as usual, is the money. Sure you can live off the land and frolic in meadows but there are always property taxes and you know, being a human. Besides, then you couldn’t buy this:
Stay tuned for a possible part 2 . . .
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