The Closed Door

My supervisor cracked the closed door of my office yesterday and found me crying.

"What's the matter?" she said, and I opened my mouth to say: "I am so sorry, but I'm miserable. I am sitting here with my own office and excellent health insurance and paid parking doing I job I hate. I begin hating just about every single job I've ever had, really, approximately four months into it, and I don't understand why I can't just get with the program and be an adult and just do what I'm supposed to be doing, because nobody really likes their job, right, but the only thing I've ever been good at, employment-wise, consists solely of sitting by myself before a computer screen and spinning sentences into existence. Will you pay me to do that? Will anyone ever pay me to do that? And if nobody does, what will I do?"

Instead I said, "Nothing."

September 17, 2003

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