MacGyver’s in trouble

When I bitch about my job, I know that it’s all my fault. I’m the one who decided to get a liberal arts degree, then not continue my schooling. I’m the one who lacks the typical career ladder ambition that all of my lovely achiever friends seem to come by naturally.

My job, like so many others, is unrewarding. It doesn’t further my life in any way, it doesn’t help others. You can literally do this job with your brain removed and a sickly hamster in its place.

The question, then, is what’s the problem? If I’ve made the choice, it means I’m not really trapped. And if I’ve chosen to sit somewhere and be a dummy, then shouldn’t I be happy? Because I’m not only a dummy here, but I’ve been on work stoppage since 2003. So I’m a dummy who has no responsibilities.

The problem is that I’m not able to goof off comfortably, and I’m feeling a bit too old for the cloak and dagger shit.

The work stoppage consists of:

• Never answering non-monitored phone calls. For 4.5 hours each day, we’re assigned to the phones. Talking to an endless wave of fuckups. Those calls are watched by the team of supervisors, so we have to be on our toes. But once I’m off the record? Fuck the phone.
• Never checking my voicemail. It deletes automatically after a month.
• Never respond to emails, unless it’s absolutely vital. Vital emails include ones where one of the supervisors have been CC’d, or where my gut instinct tells me that the problem could escalate and get back to a boss.
• Never do paperwork. There are a ton of assigned tasks, and those are also monitored and tracked by the bosses. But little in-house shit that’s a borderline favor for a co-worker? Trash it.
• Attempt to watch at least five hours of TV or read a book online each day.

There’s the problem! That last point. I’ve been trying to work my way through MacGyver on the CBS website for weeks and I haven’t yet finished season one. My friend with the far more respectable, high paying, and important job is almost on the third season! But me? No luck. Why not? Well, besides the phone calls, there’s the constant nattering from my co-workers. Shouting jokes through the vents, endless visits and chattering, people wandering around bored out of their minds trying to get into my business.

Is it my fault that you’re bored? The phone calls, alone, make me crazy. But not being left alone at all for the 8.5 hours I’m sitting here has almost driven me to Xanax.

I secretly enjoy having a dummy job. I just wish it was more of a dummy job because, come on, there’s six more seasons of MacGyver to get through! These people in my department need to leave me the fuck alone. Ideally, I should be able to put my feet up at noon and just watch TV for six hours. But nobody here has any respect, that’s the problem. Maybe if I haul in my old dorm room fridge, fill it with beer, then take my pants off and really get into it. Would people leave me alone then?

Nacho, what are you doing?

Shut the fuck up, MacGyver’s in trouble!

All of this is pointless, because MacGyver was pretty gay in the later seasons. I know there’s nothing but disappointment in my future.

But I’ve known that since high school.