The Shawshank Office Redemption

One of my bosses walked into the office today and cheerily announced that T passes were available through this job. How exciting! They take the money directly from our paychecks and buy our passes before taxes, saving us a bit of money and the trouble of running around during non-business hours and trying to find a place that sells the monthly passes. She then announced (in an equally cheerful tone) that we probably shouldn’t plan on applying to buy passes for June because we might not be working here by then. If this wasn’t a backhanded way of putting pressure on me to fill out my forms quicker and with more accuracy, I don’t know what was. Trouble is, my direct boss is swamped under like 8,000 projects and hasn’t gotten back to me all afternoon, so I have nothing to do. As such, my combined directives from above amount to the following: do nothing, but do it with speed and accuracy. I can do that. Just wait for a minute while I grab a cup of coffee.

Right now I feel like the fat guy in the Shawshank Redemption. Remember him? The one who on his first night in the jail cell started blabbering and crying that he didn’t belong, so Hadley took him out of his cell and cracked his skull, killing him? I feel like I’m that fat guy, about to start screaming and crying that I don’t belong in an office, that what in God’s name did I do to deserve this, that how could I be here with all of these people, and office-Hadley will stride out and kill me, not with a baton, but with boring projects. And Anton will be office-Andy Dufresne. He will cost office-Red a whole pack of cigarettes, which would probably be like company tickets to Sox games against Tampa Bay or something.

The only good thing about this job is that my brain is permanently in the “off” position for most of the day, so when I get home I am really motivated to write, compose, and obsess over my music. Sometimes I’m tired when I get home, but coffee can cure that. But perhaps a lower-paying job with more tasks that require a functioning brain would be good, and I think now that the random “your job is not secure” message has come from up above, I’m going to start looking in earnest again.

Another thing going on here at work is that people don’t realize the skill level and intensity level of the band. I tell people, “I have a hip-hop band,” and they respond with one of those “Sure you do” looks. “Poor kid,” they must think, “Working here with me and thinking he’s going to be a musician. Cute.” I will not begin to describe how irritating that is. I’m going to start saying obnoxiously cocky things to people who make these comments, like “I’m probably the best rapper you have ever met,” or “My band is so good that you will wet your pants if you hear us live.” I’ll update the blog when I do.

Anyway, a note on dreams: if I don’t make it in music I’m just going to opt out of society, go somewhere warm and sunny, and write. I have come to the conclusion that it is a lot easier to opt out of society than people think it is, and that I'm going to completely do it one day.

That’s all.
paz
FA