Working in the big smoke is an exciting prospect. However, the novelty doesn’t last long, and for most people, feelings of hope soon dwindle, replaced only by two and a half pairs of torn stockings and the discovery of a salami slice firmly pressed to the bottom of their backpack. For me, it lasted all of about 5 minutes. As I stood at the train station next to all the business/city people with their business haircuts and neatly-pressed attire, I pondered on all sorts of worldly things, like which sadistic bastard green-lit the manufacturing and sale of the pencil skirt to the universe at large.
All of us radiated an air of importance as if the task of unpacking the staff lunch room dishwasher was definitely not part of our role description.
No, we were all part of the ‘elite’ workforce – working for big corporations who had the funds to do things like provide bottled water for staff each day or at least to clients who had to schedule in meetings because no one dreamed of transferring a call through to the ‘executive staff’. That is, the group of middle-aged white men rarely seen in the building (plus that other woman who hangs around them but looks too cold to be one of their wives, so must be a lesbian).
The train pulled up. A face which is pressed up against the glass train door before it opened looked frightened to see that more people were planning to head into the city via the train carriage they were in. I shuffled in formation and looked at the back of the head of someone who was getting on the train before me. Then I saw myself surrounded by multiple heads and I was in limbo with no discernible pole or handle to cling to. Work-related stress took another victim that day.
So there we were, jammed against each other, like an orgy of first-timers, too polite to make the first move. It was the Sardine Express and that only just began to describe the smell. My thoughts of grandeur with the big city/successful life image died somewhere between my first taste of arm-pit and with having a handbag grazing my buttocks on every slight turn.
Happy Monday, I thought.
Do you enjoy handling mounds of shit? Have you ever thought that your most treasured possessions would look better if they were shredded to bits? Do you crave that feeling of being clawed at and bitten?
Perhaps you need professional help. Or maybe you would like to spend an equally large amount of money and take care of a puppy.
Yes, they are cute. We can all agree on that. Those that deny it should also seek medical help. But they are diabolical geniuses; masterminds intent on exploiting every little slither of weakness in your plan to keep them well-behaved, safe and within the boundaries you have selected as their home ground. It’s a battle to be top dog in this dog eat dog world, and being an underdog will leave you dog-tired and doggone being treated like a dog. It’s ruff, etc, something about being bad to the bone, etc, etc.
Natural Born Killer
Suffice it to say, the fantasy of new lifestyle was imagined, a transaction took place, a puppy was bought and our dream of being calm, easy-going dog owners very quickly went out the window.
“There will be no mercy.”
ADVICE GIVEN TO DOG OWNER: If your dog bites you, simply ignore this behaviour.
REALITY: Ow. What the.. Oh my god. I’m bleeding. Move. Everyone, get out of my way. I’m bleeding. Oh God, she’s chasing me. She not done with me. Run!
ADVICE GIVEN TO DOG OWNER: If your dog has a toilet accident, do not show that you are mad at them.
REALITY: *Steps barefoot out of the shower into dog poo*
*Smoke begins to appear from ears*
*Blood vessel in forehead bursts*
*Sound of shower being turned on again*
I would advise would-be dog owners to really think about what they are getting into:
- Are you sure you want to interact with something that is not and never will be a deadbeat human being?
- Are you prepared for an amazing companion that will love you 12-15 years?
- Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer the affection and attention that a goldfish can offer you?
You have been warned.
“I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast.”
No cares about my opinion:
It’s true. Any time I put my personal thoughts in a written paper it is inevitably circled in red pen with the comment “No need for this.” Well, I’m sorry Professor Dumbledore or whatever but that is just rude.
Apparently if no one of ‘worthiness’ thought of the idea you are expressing then it is batshit crazy to include it because, as we all know, only the most brilliant minded people have PhDs. People like Richard Branson, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg… wait a minute.
There are too many research papers:
Academics are seriously scraping the barrel and determined to find data on things we didn’t need to know (See lolmythesis.com if you are not convinced). A favourite of mine is titled “The effect of antidepressants on righting behavior in marine and freshwater snails”. True story.
You can also bet there are a ton of students who decided to watch chicks on TV and disguise their viewing as research. Papers such as “Portrayals of Lesbian and Bisexual Women in American TV Shows” and “Representations of Female Identity in Orphan Black” make me wish I too had thought of that before foolishly enrolling into the sciences.
Money is the end goal:
You can’t put a price on aiming for academic success. Oh wait, yes you can. And it ain’t cheap.
Isn’t it funny how the extra debt you have acquired in trying to be qualified for a higher paying job means you need a higher paying job to pay it off? The scientific formula is shown thusly:
Success = Salary – (Crippling Debts x Years)
Alternatively you can stop being a ‘lazy’ student and just get a full-time job while you complete your full-time study. It’s not rocket surgery.
Not all qualifications are created equally:
No one really respects the fact that you have an ‘Arts’ Degree. And after completing a subject in the Arts Faculty called ‘Reality Television’, neither do I. In fact, most people don’t know what what an Arts degree is so it is probably best if you don’t correct them when they ask “Oh Arts? Painting is it?”
The general consensus on the outcome of most qualifications are as follows:
Marketing = Future spruiker in a shopping centre
International Studies = Probably a foreinger likely to commit treason
Nursing / Teaching = Gluttons for punishment
Journalism = Future horoscope writer
Law = Bullshit artist
Science = “How come we can land a man on the moon but you can’t cure cancer or fix climate change?”
Fine Arts = Spent three years to master the art of splatter painting à la Jackson Pollack. (aka “I could do that”).
You can never be fully prepared:
In fact when it comes to the real world, university really doesn’t prepare you at all.
What’s that? You have a degree? Sorry, but the economy completely went down the toilet while you were doodling away at your little college. Do you have any barista skills?