The Job
I have some minor fears: What the hell will I be doing? and Whoa, dude, accountability is pretty high in this position, and this company is fairly crazy in their hiring/firing policies.
"Good morning, Smith."
"Good morning, Sir."
"Smith, I need you to finish up that report for me today."
"Will do, sir."
"Oh, and Smith, I just decided, you're fired."
"..."
"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Do you still want the report?"
"Of course. You still work here."
"I thought I was fired."
"Oh, that. I changed my mind."
It's not that I don't trust them -- because I do. I trust them to make some frighteningly ridiculous decisions. Still, the position would be a huge step upward, and would only help any other short-term goals I have (read: make money). It's a risk that I have to take. Something that I choose --
--Whoa! What the frick?! Where the hell did that come from? Man, that's semi-enlightening, but also kinda depressing. They had me right up until the end. That crazy Ewan McGregor. *Sigh* He's so dreamy.Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.
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