the Happy Faces

I don't mind work, you know the actual labor part of it, i don't mind changing light bulbs and moving furniture, unloading trucks and salting sidewalks, i don't mind it at all, it keeps me from being a shut-in and probably adds a few years to my life by keeping me off the streets and out of the bars, the problem i have with work isn't the labor at all and more the people...

see i work at the friendliest place in fucking America, all day in every hallway, it's good morning-good morning-how are you?-hi-good morning-good morning-how are you?-hi-have a nice day- it's enough to make you vomit, these smiling faces of fuck all, i often wonder why i can't just get my coffee or scone or carton of milk without all the bullshit, the people in my department often ask why i don't ask for help and do most of my little tasks alone and they seem stunned when i tell them i enjoy the silence, i mean shit i ain't a rocket scientist, the menial jobs i perform are mind numbingly easy, not much thought involved at all so why fuck it up with some moron jabbering away about his wife, kid, dog etal... it's my time to daydream or think or get an erection or pick my nose, what do i need help with that for? am i strange for thinking like this...

through years of abuse i've now broken down the proles into two easily defineable categories... the happy nitwits and the incessant moaners... the happy nitwits are the smiling, so happy to be at work they could shit, every day is a new day to succeed, fucking take great pride in their paper pushing/phone answering/customer service skill, they wouldn't be happy if the corporation wasn't slowly killing them, aren't happy if they aren't expounding about how great it is that said corporation is slowly killing them and how i should be happier about it too, cuz golly gee isn't it just great to work here... uh well i guess, i'm really just here cuz i have to be and until they develop a market for half-ass stoned philosophers it's just as good as any other place you know...

the incessant moaners are those loveable co-workers who seem to always be in constant crisis, if it isn't the fact they hate the job, they hate their husband or the kid is sick, the dog shit on the carpet, their mom hates their spouse, the boss is a dick, they work so hard and there's no reward, it's a never ending string of psycho babble bullshit that makes you think of the movie Airplane when Ted tells his story over and over and you just want to pour gas all over yourself and light a cigarette, i'd like to tell them to shut up but then i'd be the asshole who hates them hence being added to the list of horrible things that go wrong in their lives on a daily basis...

and i actually wonder why i get so high in the morning before work, nothing like taking the edge off in order to deal with my lovely co-workers, i mean really i just want to do what i have to, sleep a little at my desk, read books, fuck off on the internet, drink coffee, have a smoke and then go hang out with the Imaginary Boy and talk about trucks and sea lions and drink milk and eat nilla wafers, there's really no need to be that happy or that miserable at work cuz it's not what really matters now is it? if it is, my condolences, i recommend a hobby or a lobotomy.