Chapter 1: The Office Space Phenomenon

The iconic film Office Space from the late 90s, directed by Mike Judge, perfectly captures the agony of working in tech before the millennium shift. This film's themes resonate across any era, particularly within the monotonous confines of an office.

What? You haven’t seen it? I’m not sure we can continue our friendship unless you rectify that immediately.

The film encapsulates everything that is frustrating about the corporate environment: dreary cubicles, harsh fluorescent lighting, an overload of bosses, and an endless cycle of data to manage. Picture water coolers filled with bad coffee, the odor of neglected lunches, and moldy leftovers in the communal fridge, all while Steve’s name, scrawled in Sharpie, is a constant reminder of his culinary crimes. Seriously, Steve—retrieve your black lasagna or brace for consequences.

And let’s not forget the incessant reminders about proper cover sheets on TPS reports, or the inevitable reprimands from multiple supervisors.

This structure is disheartening. We receive just enough compensation to keep returning, yet we become trapped in the system. The unfortunate truth is that this underwhelming job, which barely compensates my time, often leads me to steal moments away from work to write or even just to ponder writing.

I’ve spoken with numerous writers who echo this sentiment. Many of us are there simply to pay the bills; our true passion lies in writing. Unless I’m asleep, eating, or... well, let’s be real, I’m not canoodling much. If I were, I’d still be thinking about how to write about it. (Don’t roll your eyes—you know you’d read it! People love a good tale about middle-aged dads and their Wednesday night adventures after soccer practice, right?)

I digress. In the real world, writing is my primary desire. When I’m not engaged in writing, I’m contemplating it. While working on nonfiction, I find my thoughts drifting to fiction. If I’m not writing, I’m editing or reviewing someone else's work. Unfortunately, these pursuits are often interrupted by trivial tasks like phone calls and other mundane business duties.

At this very moment, I’m at my desk, avoiding my actual responsibilities by crafting this piece. My boss has just strolled in, critiquing my customer service skills and my tardiness with invoices. It takes every ounce of restraint not to suggest he take a long walk off a short pier.

My indifference towards customers stems from my lack of interest in my job. I might as well be Peter Gibbons dodging Lumbergh’s requests for overtime. My job is merely a stepping stone.

What truly matters to me is crafting meaningful stories—narratives that resonate emotionally and can influence others. I’m dedicated to honing my writing skills, not just playing the Medium game. Not that I disregard Medium; it has been instrumental in my growth, providing invaluable opportunities to learn and connect with others.

If my unreasonable boss expects me to fully invest in this job, he will need to find another half-hearted employee to fill that role.

As I reflect on my life, it becomes clear that my reluctance to commit has been my ongoing struggle. After 43 years, I’m still figuring out what I genuinely want to pursue. I’ve dabbled in various fields: the military, music, vices, sarcasm, business, and even professional whistling. My lack of enthusiasm in school stemmed from my quest for something greater, though I never quite identified what that was.

I’ve approached everything with half-hearted effort because I failed to recognize its significance—perhaps because those choices were never truly mine.

Now, as I sit here squandering my time, earning for someone else while supporting a life that others suggested I desired, I’m questioning every choice I’ve made. Did I even make those choices, or did I just drift along, like a sheep or an ant, conforming to societal expectations?

Now in my mid-40s, I’ve run out of patience for society’s rules and demands. Some grasp this sooner, but I’ve always been a late bloomer.

What’s next for me? Honestly, I’m still figuring that out. But I’m beginning to contemplate embarking on a new journey—perhaps a metaphorical cruise towards a different life path, one where I might even metaphorically fall overboard into my own chaos.

Fingers crossed the buffet is decent.

The first video, "Your Worst Employee Is Your Own Fault," delves into how personal responsibility affects workplace performance.

The second video, "Who's the Worst Employee Ever?" humorously explores the archetype of the difficult employee in various work environments.