Have you ever felt like part of a cattle herd? We hear this simile a lot, regarding the way we shove off in groups, especially in crowded cities. People are herded down crowded sidewalks and into cramped elevators, then go to work in a busy office shoving past too many other people. I recently watched an episode of “The Twilight Zone” that addresses this during the annual New Year’s weekend marathon.
The main character trudges through the city, as he does every day, taking a loaded subway train and sardine-can elevator to an office where a young, clumsy intern spills coffee on his jacket while shoving past him. The young man apologizes profusely, but still the protagonist complains about all the people, eventually willing them all away through the power of concentration. (It’s the Twilight Zone; it had to get weird sometime.) My point is that feeling like cattle is nothing new. But I have a different reason.
When I got my first job several years ago, my father gave me some sound advice. He said, “If there’s nothing to do, pick up a broom.” I took that to heart, and now I like to think I’m rather adept at keeping busy, even if the busy work isn’t all that productive. This is a good model of work ethic in many lower level, especially physical labor, positions. It is common, though, that eventually what starts out as “I better stay productive,” evolves into “I don’t want to get caught not being productive,” which quickly turns into “Shit. Here comes the boss man; how can I look like I was being productive?” We’re human. We find the simplest route to a solution. The boss wants to see you stay busy, so you make sure she sees you when you’re busy. Simple.
When my dad told me to grab a broom, he said it would make me look like a better worker, which is admirable. What is harder to admire is when this suggestion comes from the other side of the table. I once heard a supervisor say that a worker shouldn’t need a stool in his workspace because one should always be doing something. There is no such thing as downtime. But after seven hours on your feet don’t you deserve a rest? I know guys that work twelve-hour days with a short lunch break, walking around a cement-floored warehouse all day. These are the guys whose bodies will be broken down by the time they reach fifty, yet the little border collie with a collared shirt and a clipboard keeps nipping at their heels, yapping at them to move faster.
The laboring folk are just oxen. You get paid to work and make them money until you’re no longer able. They’ll just send you off to the glue factory and replace you with a fresh, young body.
I grew up around working people, they are breaking down. I work with laboring men whose bodies fight them every step of the way. These people grew up in a time when you had to be doing something always; not working was a sin. Now, they’re forced to live out their lives with back, knee, foot, and/or neck pain, but stubborn as they are, they won’t seek treatment, because they don’t need to see no damn specialist.
So you want to retire at sixty-five? With the economy going the way it is, you’ll need a miracle. Well, good luck working past sixty-five without needing a lumbar brace or a knee replacement in the last ten or so years.
I guess the best solution is to find a career where you are your own boss. Move up in the business world and run the company. Take up some sort of artistic endeavor: musician, painter, playwright. But even then, the work tears you down. Look at most musicians, writers, comedians out there who have succumbed to the stresses of pushing themselves and have gone past the point of no return. Lots of people think show business isn’t “real work,” but there is a ton that goes into creating the media we take for granted, and the people involved are often their own harshest critics, becoming their own border collies. Instead of yapping to move faster, they push for more, better, harder.
I complain about the bosses out there, but the real enemy is the work itself. Even those resigned to a desk are working themselves to death. They may not have years of stress on their joints and muscles, but they are wearing down their brains, their mental capacities, their emotional fortitudes.
We’re all pushing toward something, often at our own expense.
Take a load off. You deserve it.
Have a nice day.
