The Perfect Job

Here I am, sitting in my plush office and my mind wanders. The screen in front of me shows psychedelic patterns which I am too stoned to even care about. The comfortable chair gives me the luxury to nod off while giving the illusion of a person hard at work. Suddenly I have the hackneyed out-of-body experience. I see myself strangely from above and all I can see is a guy who doesn’t give a damn about the gibberish he’s made to do and yet he is trying to fit in. I see a sea of heads, each glued to their respective screens and pretending hard as I wonder why? Just because someone pays you just enough to keep the cogs of your life running, doesn’t give him the right to make you do what you detest.
I see the Armani clad wannabe, who likes to call himself ‘The Manager’, bullying some misdirected souls. This guy must have been bullied a lot during his childhood so he comes to the office daily thinking its his divine right to avenge it on the poor sycophants who try their phoney smiles every time the boss tells a non-existent joke. Shakespeare once said that the world is just a stage and all men and women are actors. Looking around my office I see people who have taken this statement too seriously! I feel disgusted by all this and that’s when the self loathing hits me. I, myself, am trying to fit into this society of hypocrites.
That’s when the pessimist in me kicks in and fills my mind with the ignominious question- What if there is no perfect job out there which I would look forward to do? People talk about ‘Job satisfaction’ and other fancy terms, and still they do what they do without loving it. The very thought of doing this work for the rest of my life makes me feel repugnant. I sometimes think if the term ‘Ideal Job’ really exists in nature? Even if someone got his lucky charm riding and got a job he would love to do, would he feel the same enthusiasm waking up each morning to do the work he ‘loves’? Its bound to get monotonous and tiresome after a while.
I hear people saying –“What would I not give to go on a vacation or just sit idle at home.”, and I think – for how long will they love it? Maximum 3 months? And after that they’ll be itching to get back!
Then my thoughts turn to the incredulous section of this society which is the most bizarre and unfathomable to me – the workaholics. The people under this section do not pretend, they actually care for the crap they do and are not vexed to put in the ‘extra hours’ to get it done. But this behavior does not engross me the most, what does is that enigmatic smile of satisfaction on their faces at the end of the day. That smile makes me believe that there is a ‘perfect job’ for people out there. Its up to them to go find it or for the more unimaginative lot, find solace in what they currently do. People keep on running all their lives not knowing what they are running towards and in the end they form that discontented group of people who crib about anything and everything.
Will I be able to find the “right job” for me? That’s a nebulous question whose answer lies hidden in the unexplored horizons of the time to come. Until then I sit in my office and my mind wanders as I dream on….