.work on a saturday morning.
i woke up this morning, pulled on last night's jeans and a clean t-shirt, and drove to starbucks. one venti– or as i like to refer to it to the makeup-faced barista, the really big one– coffee later, i drive back to my house and sit down with my computer to tie up a couple of loose ends for work.
i get paid $32,000 a year, and i've already worked a fifty hour week. but snapping open my powerbook g4 (courtesy of work) and responding to my boss and the client with chipper alertness makes me feel cleansed of last night's cigarettes and whisky. i can't stop myself from sitting up a little straighter and thinking, "you're so on top of things!" and "they'll be so impressed!" it's sick.
don't get me wrong, i complain about it. on the phone to a friend, "well, i should go and do WORK now cuz i'm a goddamn corporate whore." but i do it anyway, work on a saturday morning, and nobody asked me to.
what is it, my compulsive need to go above and beyond what is required of me? is it a plea for praise and recognition? does it slather meaning and purpose onto the frightfully blank canvas of saturday afternoon? am i bored, a nerd, a hard-worker? it is obvious that the money is not the motivation here. the free laptop perhaps, but all of the overtime i work spreads $32,000 pretty thin.
i just want to be competent. i saw an interview with billy joel once on vh1, and the interviewer asked him how he managed to produce such consistently excellent music. billy joel answered: "i'm competent. i know how to write music, and most people don't know what they're doing. i just look excellent by comparison."
in this day we are pulled in so many directions by family, friends, work, phone, prime time television, emails, hour-long commutes, and endless errands and obligations. we don't have the time and energy to do anything well. not that anybody even values or expects quality. home-cooked means microwavable pre-cooked rice and frozen stir-fry in a pan. it's easier to throw things away than to maintain them, so all of our tools and possessions are disposable crap. t-shirts are two for $10 at old navy, and hardly last through the season. my point is corroborated by the swiffer, clorox wipes, the entire produce section of trader joe's: pre-cut carrot sticks, stir-fry in a bag, pre-diced onions. it's no wonder there are corners of our homes that haven't been thoroughly swept and scrubbed since we threw out our broom and mop in favor of the pre-moistened and sanitized swiffer.
it's true that when my mom kneels on her kitchen floor with a rag and a bucket of hot bleach and water, she will have the cleanest floor in the united states. and that's not because she's a mopping genius, it's because she's invested time and energy in performing the task correctly. she's a competent floor-washer, and that makes her an outstanding floor-washer by comparison to the rest of us.
i just want to go to bed at night and know that i completed the tasks of the day with integrity and sincerity. when i ship a package, i want to confirm receipt. when i write an email, i want it to begin with a greeting and end with proper sign-off. i want every comma to be in place and every word to be spelled correctly. (you'll notice that my blog contains no capital letters, but my tendency towards inconsistency and ambivalence is another blog entry all together.)
maybe i just want an a in a c average world.
i get paid $32,000 a year, and i've already worked a fifty hour week. but snapping open my powerbook g4 (courtesy of work) and responding to my boss and the client with chipper alertness makes me feel cleansed of last night's cigarettes and whisky. i can't stop myself from sitting up a little straighter and thinking, "you're so on top of things!" and "they'll be so impressed!" it's sick.
don't get me wrong, i complain about it. on the phone to a friend, "well, i should go and do WORK now cuz i'm a goddamn corporate whore." but i do it anyway, work on a saturday morning, and nobody asked me to.
what is it, my compulsive need to go above and beyond what is required of me? is it a plea for praise and recognition? does it slather meaning and purpose onto the frightfully blank canvas of saturday afternoon? am i bored, a nerd, a hard-worker? it is obvious that the money is not the motivation here. the free laptop perhaps, but all of the overtime i work spreads $32,000 pretty thin.
i just want to be competent. i saw an interview with billy joel once on vh1, and the interviewer asked him how he managed to produce such consistently excellent music. billy joel answered: "i'm competent. i know how to write music, and most people don't know what they're doing. i just look excellent by comparison."
in this day we are pulled in so many directions by family, friends, work, phone, prime time television, emails, hour-long commutes, and endless errands and obligations. we don't have the time and energy to do anything well. not that anybody even values or expects quality. home-cooked means microwavable pre-cooked rice and frozen stir-fry in a pan. it's easier to throw things away than to maintain them, so all of our tools and possessions are disposable crap. t-shirts are two for $10 at old navy, and hardly last through the season. my point is corroborated by the swiffer, clorox wipes, the entire produce section of trader joe's: pre-cut carrot sticks, stir-fry in a bag, pre-diced onions. it's no wonder there are corners of our homes that haven't been thoroughly swept and scrubbed since we threw out our broom and mop in favor of the pre-moistened and sanitized swiffer.
it's true that when my mom kneels on her kitchen floor with a rag and a bucket of hot bleach and water, she will have the cleanest floor in the united states. and that's not because she's a mopping genius, it's because she's invested time and energy in performing the task correctly. she's a competent floor-washer, and that makes her an outstanding floor-washer by comparison to the rest of us.
i just want to go to bed at night and know that i completed the tasks of the day with integrity and sincerity. when i ship a package, i want to confirm receipt. when i write an email, i want it to begin with a greeting and end with proper sign-off. i want every comma to be in place and every word to be spelled correctly. (you'll notice that my blog contains no capital letters, but my tendency towards inconsistency and ambivalence is another blog entry all together.)
maybe i just want an a in a c average world.
posted by .i'll never tell. at 11:40 AM
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