As another weekend draws to an untimely end, 35 hours of soul destroying tedium circles through your conscious like a corporate feathered vulture. Sunday's television schedule does little to distract you from the thoughts of a job that you once donned your finest suit to secure, and here, in a moment of depressing clarity is the realisation that, "this is your life." Instead of a red book filled with your greatest feats and wittiest one-liners, the best that you can achieve is two pages of Arial 11 point detailing your employment history and one or two hobbies that you added in a desperate attempt to make it sound as though you were a true team player and not the mis-anthropic, work-hating malcontent that you actually are.

If this sounds familiar then fear not, you are not alone. The Daily Grindstone is here to help you through the perils of employment and give weight to your long held belief that, despite the hype, work just isn't that great. So... make another cup of tea (remember that a full kettle takes longer to boil and can add minutes to your break), get comfortable, and prepare to adjust the scales of the work-life balance a little more in your favour.

Monday, 14 March 2011

Kneeling at the alter of Careerism

As the death-throws of religion sound out across the globe, the masses are once again demanding their opiates. Whereas once, subservience to a bearded figure was enough to secure your place in the sun, one must now pledge allegiance to the god of careers should you wish to secure a spot to rest your weary feet. In stark contrast to the religions of yester-year, this new god makes no commandment to love they neighbour. Provided that you are willing to sacrifice all in this mortal game of roulette, "Careerism" will happily accept your stake.

The rise of Careerism has led society to value economic worth above all other characteristics. Disciples compete to outdo each other in their unquestioning devotion to long hours and caffeine induced neuroses. The reward for this dedication is a chance to win a pleasant living space and the misguided admiration of colleagues. Thirty year old men wear the scars of executive burnout like martyrs killed at the stake, and once bustling streets now echo with the gloomy sound of Careerists substituting their interest in the real world for the safe and sterile surroundings of a Blackberry Curve.

Mothers who would once have nutured children now sit solemnly at desks unwilling to snatch back their offspring from the loving bosom of a hired nanny. Exhausted from the unrelenting quest to show loyalty and subservience to a career, they return home to numb their minds with the images of moronic cretins barely capable of sentience performing like chimpanzees for a panel of hateful judges (if you were just about to defend the glazed mannequin who goes by the name of Cheryl Cole, first cast your memory back to her career as a nightclub toilet prize fighter). Like the misguided celibacy of catholic priests, Careerism removes all capacity for genuinely human pleasure.

When it is time for the final curtain call, you must ask yourself whether the mid-range BMW sat in the drive is really sufficient compensation for not knowing your children and never pursuing that childhood interest in go-karting. If the sums just don’t add up, then reject Careerism and follow the righteous path of work based Atheism.

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