I’m glad I found a job as a secretary. They call it an administrative assistant, but who they bull shitting?
I’m a secretary.
If I didn’t have this job to define myself by then I might have to consider whether my talent and my intelligence mean I should try to actually do something, something maybe worthwhile. Maybe, I might even be forced to achieve something.
Good god. NO.
Instead I go to work every day safe in the knowledge that no real challenge awaits me and no unnecessary displays of brilliance will be demanded. I don’t have to produce a masterwork. I don’t even have to produce a lot of rough sketches of terribleness with just a hint of potential.
I am a secretary and all potential withers at my feet. All flashes of insight dissipate into a wisp of smoke. The siren call of creativity is but a whisper of intense systematic organization. The random incongruities, the potentially funny moments I see, assemble themselves into neat rows of numbers in a spreadsheet.
Thank god. Do you know how much work it is to take responsibility for yourself?
I need a nap and maybe a half-day of vacation just to recover from thinking about it.