Fridays...

So here we are at another friday, a day which no matter how many times it inevitably comes round is still met with the same sense of relief and optimism as the innumerable ones that have come before. The reasons are obvious, after a long week of self-sacrificing work we are ready to throw off the shackles of our servitude and indulge in a non stop bender of unprotected sex and intravenous drug use. Fuck you work, we say, look at all the crazy shit we do when you're not watching. You can't slay the beast within me, i'm a bohemian with a heart of liquid gold and a brain shining with the ghost light of stars.

Wooo! The Weekend!

But of course that's a fantasy we've created. Sure we turn up to work and do our 40 hours a week and most of us probably hate our jobs, which is proper and right. In fact if most of us don't hate our jobs then there is reason for concern. We're not all Lion tamers, Rock stars and Space cadets. No, we're spreadsheet scanners and data enterers. Even those further up the ivory tower just do an advanced version of the same thing, just with more shouting and better cut suits.
Returning to the point...eventually...we've created this fantasy of our terrible work conditions of no lunch breaks, never ending deadlines and ogre-ish bosses, out of a necessity to feel persecuted, to feel like we have something to rail against. Most of us in the Western world should be on our knees with pathetic gratitude for the unimaginably comfortable lives we live compared to the developing world or even our own countries 50 years ago. We have it easy, which is why we're so pampered and plump and have ridiculous, impractical haircuts.

                                                          Pictured: A dickhead


Do we work like slaves? Well no, obviously not. We take numerous coffee breaks, long lunches and spend hours on the internet talking to our friends and playing stupid farming games on Facebook, insulting 12 year old American kids on forums and writing self indulgent blogs like this. We want to feel hard done by, we want to imagine we endure a level of suffering which would make the Israelites quail, so that we can all be a martyr to something and through our suffering gain a feeling of superiority over our fellow toilers. It helps assuage the guilt we carry for our life of relative ease. It's like a competition which is being played out in every pub and every street corner where a few huddled smokers gather.

                                             Nothing compared to an Excel spreadsheet
 We'll bitch and moan and try and outdo eachother with our misery and then collapse at the weekend claiming we're 'burnt out' from the working week. You work in an office, you're not doing 10 hours shifts in a coal mine. The next time someone induces you to bitch about your day think about it first, and say proudly, 'i've done fuck all'. Because lets face it, you have. And the fact that you can and still be paid a wage which by world levels is obscene, and live a life of comfort and security, is the best endorsement of the system that you've all bought in to.