WORDS: Nicola Udder
Grey walls. Grey tables. Grey people. Sometimes I find myself going for a piss and staying in the cubicle for a ten minute crying session. The cunts in the office must think I have IBS or something. The bland and tasteless monotony of this place is like serving time in prison. I would just leave but then I’d be broke and so apparently I have to be thankful to my employer for keeping me off the streets. Still, it’s more than having the light within me being turned off, having my soul slowly fall into a coma. I hate this job. I really fucking hate this place. Please, I don’t know if you fully understand, as I’m not explaining it properly. This building is where morals go to die. Shackled to our desks, this corporate demon has us on a drip.
I have completely rejected the business world. I can’t even take a deep breath in this box without eyes above me questioning why I’ve been breathing without making them money. Not only is my job entirely unfulfilling, soul destroying, dulling my mind – I am 100% against the company I work for. All of its ethics and policies; all of it’s niceties are well constructed plans to profit.
And they know – they fucking know we are all brought up to know better. To treat people with decency, common manners and to not let people suffer. We all have moral codes within us telling us something is wrong. So they try to turn us. They use incentives; money, days off, prizes. The more of a money making, sales pushing robot you become, the more the company shall reward you. And sometimes it works. You hear those morons cackling to each other about their unreal fucking sales rate and bragging about their pathetic leader boards. Naturally I am at the bottom of that board. I can unashamedly, no; proudly say that I do not choke my customers with tacky sales pitches, reach out to their most basic human emotions by telling them that if they do not buy this glorious product designed to only help them that their child may catch AIDS and DIE IN A PIT OF FIRE and GET EATEN BY SHARKS.
I’ve only worked there for two years (eight months, three days, some hours and a few depressing seconds). It’s not right to feel like a bad person after your working day ends. I didn’t begin this way. I was always a lefty but I am now most definitely a socialist. So how is a socialist expected to work in these conditions? Quit. Get a different job. Of course it’s so easy and simple why have I not thought of this before? Things are so much easier on paper.
I could even bear this horror show if the vast profit and wealth was shared amongst all employees. But of course that’s not how it works. Tweedledum and dee sit at the top swimming in wealth, whilst they send around a letter explaining that since we have all been such excellent employees the past twelve months, here’s a 0.3% pay rise. Oh thank you Mr CEO you utter twat. Thank you for reassuring me that life simply does get better.
To find out more from Nicola: https://sadsteps.wordpress.com