Category: Wage Slave
September 30, 2011
Comments Off on Sub Rosa
Posted in: Wage Slave
Let’s get one thing out of the way. Honest people need not apply for catering jobs. It’s not like waiting tables. It’s my impression that the machinery of the service industry enforces a sort of honesty system on waiters, who have to tip out to the bussers, bartenders, hostesses, and others. A vast network of […]
September 26, 2011
Comments Off on Co-workers
Posted in: Wage Slave
I think it’s time to start telling my co-workers what I really think about them. I’ve coasted through my day job for ten years now, keeping my head down, trying to fade into the crowd and just muddle through the day.
September 15, 2011
Comments Off on Catering
Posted in: Wage Slave
I’ve been doing an inventory of my life over this last year. Looking back on the sins, successes, excesses, and all those things we carry with us. I’ve concluded that the world is insane and I’m living in some sort of unending horror movie. At any moment, a man wearing a flash mask is going […]
March 29, 2011
Comments Off on 20 Years
Posted in: Wage Slave
Saturday, March 26th.
February 10, 2011
Comments Off on Resume of a Wage Slave, Conclusion
Posted in: Wage Slave
Part one is here.
February 8, 2011
Comments Off on Resume of a Wage Slave, Part One
Posted in: Wage Slave
After whining about my weekend job yesterday, I had the stark realization that I’ve never had fewer than two jobs since I started working at 16. And, throughout, I kept up with high school and college… Which, I suppose, counts as another job. So I’ve never had just one job, if you go with that […]
I have a rare free weekend coming up and, as Monday dawns harsh and merciless, I find that I’m irrationally excited about the idea that, come Friday, I’ll be able to come home, take off my pants, go nowhere, do nothing, and not utter a single word for 60 hours.
Two inches of snow is what we have right now in the DC area. Two years ago, the city would have come to a standstill and I’d be home right now, having vodka with breakfast, watching episodes of The Wire, and standing, naked, in my window as the private sector workers trudged sadly to work. […]
For one glorious summer, back in 1994, I was the assistant groundskeeper at the same utopian suburban paradise where I was collecting questionable sexual experiences. I wasn’t a very good groundskeeper, but that was okay. The job consisted of a three hour run to Montgomery Doughnuts in Rockville every morning and a three hour run […]
I often joke that, when I was a kid, my career ambition was to be a ninja, or a truck driver, or some G.I. Joe-style combination of both. I always wanted some quiet little job where I could be on my own.