It did not end in the sense that most people would think of the world ending; shit blowing up, firebombs coming down from the heavens, Christians being killed by horsemen and such. It didn’t end like that.
I mean, it is insanely, and ridiculously cold outside, and the work environment (inside) is high paced, tense, and out of control, but the world did not end like that. The world ended in a way that stops all forward thought; in a way that is more dangerous than actual death, or the actual end of the world.
The world ended when all hope for a positive mindset had been destroyed by the most iniquitous force ever: Lack of Self-belief, mixed with negative attitudes.
People straight up lost it.
I saw a bucket of mix fall to the ground and explode over everything. Clothes were saturated, and shoes were in disrepair. I saw an espresso machine steam its last latte, and a coffee-type liquid, pale and thin in color, seep into catcher cups below, to be thrown out, and completely wasted. I saw orders crisscrossed and get taken to wrong locations. I saw lecture after lecture of negativity. I kept in mind that I could lose my job, as everyone else, and I realized I didn’t care. All this concern was literally for nothing, and everyone (no one except me) knew it.
I have a few questions:
If there aren’t problems then what’s to fix?
If there isn’t something to be discussed or corrected then what will those in charge do with their day?
Something has to be done or there is no need for such entities to exist.
I stood semi-laughing (to myself) and smiling.
As hard as my manager tried she couldn’t get a single look, word, or hint of concern out of me. All was in shambles, the sky was falling, and the day had just begun.
This was a typical day.
All was in control, when all thought was out of control, apparently. And this is where it is funny, everyone that thought the world was ending truly felt the end of the world. They were dying inside, mentally, terrified of the outcome.
Living like this must be difficult.
What happened was some sort of weird placebo effect, administered by oneself, onto the mind of oneself and seen by others… Then the others succumb as well. Its kind of like mentioning yawning, and then all you do the rest of the day is yawn. An epidemic!
I bet you did.
I watched people actually say something to themselves and believe it (in their heads). All their despair was realized at the mention of despair. The fucking world is over, dude! Holy shit!
This is like Fox News scare tactics; those in charge (of themselves or others) were attempting to make the general population (of whatever: Coworkers) legitimately aware and hysterically concerned about the future.
What to remember when this happens:
1. Nothing bad will actually happen (ever) i.e. death, dismemberment, or suicide is never bad, it happens.
2. There is no real danger, life is about taking risks.
3. Think positive, sit back and watch everyone else lose their shits about it.
4. It is as you label it, so don’t label it.
(Also, remember Fight Club: “Losing all hope is freedom.”)
I walked to the coffee area and found a bottle, from an apothecary-a homeopathic remedy, labeled as a stress reliever, and mood-stabilizer, sitting out. My manager had brought the bottle in. She must have known before work that work was going to be hell.
This is the situational form of the Deviant Complex.
I thought about how maybe, her bringing this bottle to work was certainly setting the day up for failure. As if she had predicted things would be fucked.
Then I remembered I am at work to make money not friends, and my boss is NOT my friend.
I predicted that I wouldn’t care. Everything was great.
Ten minutes after realizing I would be unable to make coffee based beverages, aside from drip coffee, I found my way to the DJ booth and started banging out some of The Streets’ albums.
Recently, my co-workers had been harassing me over my music selection (It was too poppy, or it was too sad, or something to that effect). It never met their expectations. So what did I do? I told them to change it. I asked them to change the music, put on something they liked. I said, “If you don’t like it, you choose the music. I am done.”
After that, I realized everyone I worked with had a lot to complain about, but little action to satisfy their complaints. I found myself as permanent song selector. After requesting that my coworkers actually do something about their dislike for my musical taste, I found that they weren’t really interested in changing anything at all.
And, hey, they wanted change, they asked for it.
Now what I call this, I call this:
The One-TrackTalker Situation:
This situation is where a person can only find one solution to confusion. That solution is disparagement of the issue, or just criticism of a certain topic, with no real issue presented, and (especially) no clear solution to the person’s distaste for said topic.
An Example: The person will find a way to label something as a dislike, but said person will have no intent on changing it.
Is there a need for people to constantly feel like they are being oppressed? Because this seems like a bigger issue than what I let on, but I won’t let it concern me. I unbind the shackles of my negativity. Its all good, people just like routine. 🙂
A positive longing for oppression sounds realistic in our society; with jobs, money, and status being the only way to make it, the only way to exist in 2013.
What is money made of?
I pity the person who pities themselves.
I saw the bluff and requested that the person change the music to their preference, and what happened? Nothing, the music was ostensibly changed; however, it was changed to the very genre the person was complaining about.
Great job, this is a One-TrackTalker.
Today she came in and apologized for micro-managing, and after that she told me to do some menial task. I told her thanks and did as I was told.
I will always thank her after she tells me what to do, I am always nice, and I will always do what I am told to do. And, inevitably, I will always be punished for this.
I think some people would rather label the world negative and chaotic because there is no other way for them to understand that things just happen. This, labeling chaos, is comfort.
One thing (it seems) I have noticed is that people downtown tend to exaggerate the situation, to make something seem all important, when it is actually moderately trivial, not that important, or just plain ridiculous.
I have been told numerous times by my manager, “It amazes me that you put the towel in the wrong spot.”
I am more amazed by capitalism, science, math, and austerity.
I entertain her amazement.
What goes through my mind:
Firstly, who fucking cares about a towel, or its placement in respect to a bakery? There are spills* everywhere, there should be towels everywhere. The solution is obvious: Towel placement is a way to tell me that you are in control, but of what? I can’t believe this shit. Questions of amazements about the towel: Why don’t you order more towels? Who makes the towels? Are they oppressed? Are they paid well? When they were little did they want to be towel-makers when they grew up?
What I actually say:
I will be more mindful next time.
*The spill this morning was of some sort of baking liquid. I think, it resembled pancake mix with caramel laced within it.
It was a pleasure to clean off the floor.
I walked in after my co-worker pushed open the door and realized the floor was covered in about a half inch of syrupy liquid. I told him this was about as bad as the BP oil catastrophe in the Gulf. He did not laugh. His mind had taken him to a place of horrible failure. I laughed and told him not to worry I would help. Life goes on. He told me he was going to get fired. He said he hoped he would get fired. He asked me how I was so positive. I told him there is no other way to be. If you think everything is over, then it is… The mess was quickly clean, and he complained the whole time, and after. Life was over for him.
I am sure his day is ruined.
I mentioned that my dressing routine this morning was more tedious than his whole day.
I spoke to him as I dressed in the locker room. He started laughing and told me he was a talker not a doer. I told him I was both, I am a Gemini.
I mentioned my ride to work was more challenging than his whole life.
I pulled things on, tied things, zipped things, situated myself, tied laces, covered up, and walked out. My day was over before most people’s days began. I like it like that.
Before I left:
She asked me if I wanted my iPod, for safety purposes. I asked her why it was in danger. She said someone might steal it. I told her I would find out who stole it and they would never sleep right again. She kind of laughed a little, but more so the look in her eyes changed. I don’t think she knew if I was serious or not.
My day was shit, I hate my life, we are all fucked!
Life is good.