Quit

I have a revolutionary idea. It's guaranteed to knock your socks off. If you have a job...go to it. Every day. All day.

Yes, despite the recession there are people who are gainfully employed who simply choose not to go to work. I work with those people. Lots of them.

This confuses me. If you don't like your job, quit. I understand you'd rather lounge on the beaches of Turks & Caicos than work- who wouldn't? I'd like 20 million dollars, eternal youth and the metabolism of a newborn. Sucks to be us.

What I don't get is why you resent being asked to do your job. It's not as though you're being asked to do something you find abhorrent. There is a simple solution, Q-U-I-T. Take this job and shove it. Homey don't play 9-5. Hasta la vista.

No one is making you do anything. If you don't want to work, quit. There will a line around the block for your job. They'll probably work harder and for less money. But if you choose to remain...I'd like to make a few suggestions.

You can't call in sick every Monday and Friday. You can't take 10 breaks a day. You can't surf the web for porn. You can't take 2 hour lunches. You can't come in 3 hours late and then immediately take a break. You can't sit on the phone with your boyfriend reviewing his performance last night-FYI we record all calls and these intimate conversations totally entertain us at staffings.

There is a finite number of vacation days and guess what- you've used them all. You don't accrue additional days when you're not at work. You say you have a hard time making it in by 9 because you were out until 4 am? I totally understand. That sucks. But I still expect you to be at work on time and ready to go. I am. So can you.

No one owes you anything. Having expectations that you will come to work and actually do your job is not oppression. "The Man" isn't trying to keep you down. It's called life. You perform a task in exchange for a predetermined amount of money. No one is going pay you for sitting on your fat ass while you stuff your face with Cheetos and Facebook about the guy you hooked up with at the gym. You're not that special. So suck it up, drag yourself to work and daydream of that one week a year you get to blow your entire vacation fund on a week long road trip to Disney with your 3 screaming kids and hen-pecking wife. Kinda makes that job sound better by the hour, huh?

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