coworkers have repeatedly shown me that the key to happiness at work (perhaps in life) is to dumb-it-down and not ask too many questions. Feign ignorance, blissful ignorance. That doesn’t really work for me, but I can always take it down a few notches.
As a glorified paperboy on a $12,000 electric ass bathtub I sometimes wonder what I’m doing. But the existential questions come and go in short spurts. Most of the time I appreciate the old school hand delivery via bicycle aspect of my job. And I always appreciate not being tied to a desk or a phone or a monitor.
There’s an old timer on my route that gets the New York Times and Wall Street Journal each morning, hand delivered by me, the electric ass bathtub riding existential paperboy.
I wouldn't want
your job
on a day like this
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