{"id":117,"date":"2004-06-25T11:12:15","date_gmt":"2004-06-25T02:12:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/archives\/2004\/06\/25\/what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-people\/"},"modified":"2005-07-14T00:16:46","modified_gmt":"2005-07-13T15:16:46","slug":"what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-people","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/archives\/2004\/06\/25\/what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-people\/","title":{"rendered":"What the Fuck is Wrong with People? (*)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><i><start disclaimer mode><\/i><br \/>\nI think it&#8217;s been established by now, that I am a horribly self-indulgent whining bastard with an amazing talent for ranting about every single pointless non-issue in my life. I got a good ten yards of blog entries to prove it, right here.<br \/>\n<i><\/ end disclaimer mode><\/i><\/p>\n<p><i><start ranting mode><\/i><br \/>\nBUT, I pride myself in that you will <b>never<\/b> hear me, in the middle of a regular conversation with friends, start detailing excruciatingly dull and meaningless minutiae of my work life: how such or such project is not coming along as we expected and how I can&#8217;t stand the girl from accounting and so on and so forth.<\/p>\n<p>I might mention some work-related items or geeky stuff somewhat connected to work every once in a while, since after all, work is quite a central part of my life (well, until that massive cocaine deal goes through, that is: after that, I&#8217;m off to retirement for good).<br \/>\n Informal roundup of long time friend&#8217;s careers, idle &#8220;how was your day&#8221; chat and the like: it&#8217;s all good.<br \/>\n But do I ramble endlessly about <a href=\"http:\/\/www.unknowngenius.com\/blog\/archives\/000062.html\">the finer points of project implementation<\/a>, the mediocre sex life of complete strangers that I happen to work with, or the new color of my office wallpaper: nope.<\/p>\n<p>NOT, mind you, out of some stupid altruistic consideration for my friends and their understandable lack of interest for discussing the intricacies of somebody else&#8217;s work, for which <i>they<\/i> do not receive a salary. Once again: I&#8217;ll gladly bore to death anybody with the most pathetically mundane details of my life provided I got enough rope at hand.<br \/>\nNo. The reason I do not bask in office stories when going out with friends is that  <b>It is only a fucking JOB<\/b>.<br \/>\nCall me vain, but no matter how I might actually enjoy doing my job, I am still glad to be done with it at the end of the day. And I DO like my job. doing a job I am happy to do is, along with reaching a complete moratorium on the presence of any alarm clock in my bedroom, the <i>only<\/i> lifelong professional ambitions I have ever had: in that regards, I can safely say I am quite a successful man, since I haven&#8217;t owned a sound-enabled time device in many years now. I like my job, but I like doing other things even more, ok?<br \/>\n Seeing how the goal of my day is usually to get my work done with, so as to be able to partake in other occupations that are <i>not<\/i> work, no matter how similar in practice, I don&#8217;t see why I would ever want to drag work along once I&#8217;m done. If I wanted to keep feeling at work, I would not be sitting in a bar with a beer in my hand, I&#8217;d be in my cubicle (ok that&#8217;s an image: I don&#8217;t have a cubicle and my office is about 5 feet from my bed, on my couch, previously dragged in the middle of our 2-square-feet garden if the sun is shining).<\/p>\n<p>I don&#8217;t bore other people with petty work-talk because it also bores me. And I pretty much expect the same selfish courtesy from my, otherwise fondly cared for, friends. If I keep switching the topic off that latest xml scheme you&#8217;ve been fighting about with your boss, onto the hairdo of the blonde next to us, it&#8217;s not because I really care about scary 80&#8217;s soap opera fashion revival, it&#8217;s because I am desperate and about to kill someone if the word &#8220;project flow&#8221; is uttered one more time when I&#8217;m drinking a beer.<\/p>\n<p>So in the future, unless your job is absolutely fascinating (and I do mean <b>fascinating<\/b>, as in I-hunt-and-trade-albinos-unicorn kind of fascinating, not I-improve-workflow-productivity-for-major-corporation-XYZ-foreign-exports-division kind of fascinating), please just stick to the skinny and assume by default that I really do not want to hear about the woes of your IT department when they tried to upgrade all the PCs to Windows 2006. To put it bluntly: I don&#8217;t care. And I know you probably don&#8217;t care about whatever else I might launch the conversation on, but at least, <i>it is not work<\/i>. And that&#8217;s good enough for me. And please don&#8217;t get pissy if I finally clue you in on the level of tear-inducing boredom of your work-related topic of predilection: I don&#8217;t hate you, I love what you got to say, but come on, you are better than that, I&#8217;m sure you can discuss non office-life-related matters with the same brilliant insights and exciting details that flourish when relating your boss&#8217;s secretary last fling with another [equally unknown to me, likely to remain so for the rest of my life and therefore of no interest whatsoever] workmate.<br \/>\n<i><\/end ranting mode><\/i><\/p>\n<p>PS: If you are a friend reading this and we&#8217;ve gone for drinks and chat in the past few days: I&#8217;m not talking about you of course, I&#8217;m talking about all the others.<br \/>\nPPS: To my parole officer and my buddies at the twelve-step program: I know I screwed up. I&#8217;m sorry. I shouldn&#8217;t have brought back that pack of <a href=\"http:\/\/www.red-bull.com\/faq.action#top\" target=\"_new\">red bulls<\/a> from Barcelona. I thought I was stronger than the Can now. I thought I could control it&#8230; I was in denial, I know.<br \/>\n But I swear I&#8217;ll stop soon as soon as my paxil prescription comes though. Just one more can, and I stop. Promise.<\/p>\n<p><i><b>*<\/b> we are currently accepting votes on this entry for the title of most uninformatively meaningless subject line.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>DO. NOT. TELL. ME. ABOUT. YOUR. DAY. AT. WORK.<br \/>\nI don&#8217;t fucking care, ok?<br \/>\nIf I wanted to hear about pointless things in the life of complete strangers, I&#8217;d read more blogs.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":4,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-117","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-too-much-caffeine"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/117","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=117"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/117\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=117"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=117"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/unknowngenius.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=117"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}