I hate my fucking job.
There I said it. I happen to work in the world of fashion for a large unnamed powerhouse that uses and abuses their ambitious employees until one day that employee looks in the mirror and finds nothing that resembles that once wide eyed fearless world conqueror that used to reside behind that sunless washed out face.
I had hopes and dreams of taking the fashion world by storm and not over night, no quite the contrary. I wanted to put in hard work and climb the ladder of leadership to the top. I thought it might take me a good 15 years but being straight out of college I had the time and the energy to think that was possible without it sucking my soul dry and feeding what was left of it to the capitalistic bitch that is the fashion industry.
Make more for less–it’s a common theme in this line of work; cheaper product with higher prices, sales quotas met only means sales quotas raised, and of course your salary and measly 2% commission after you meet your monthly bookings is but a speck in the eye of the billions it’s worth.
Don’t get me wrong not everything is bad. Once the nasty cattiness wears off towards the new girl you find that you have made friends at the end of the year you have worked there. You like them and greet them with a smile because after all they must be making the same pennies you are. At the end of the day when you look around at these girls you don’t feel like you’re one of them.
That leaves me here.
I am a 24-year-old female college graduate in the work force who hates her job. Anyone with me?
My first thought is that it’s fear.
Yet as soon as I type that dreaded four-letter word I wonder just what the hell I have to be afraid of? That world conqueror I once was wouldn’t and wasn’t afraid of change. I don’t support anyone but myself unless my ovaries have something there not telling me. So then what? What is there to be afraid of?
These thoughts lead me to an even more dreaded word: failure.
And then the heavens part and I remember one of my favorite entrepreneurs Steve Jobs say,
“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything-all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure- these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important”.
My man Steve Jobs, he could really speak to the common hippie in us all. I feel remarkably better and with a much-needed reminder of our finite time on this planet–I should quit my job. No matter what it pays or doesn’t, the experience I got and the things I learned will not dissipate into the wind because I decided it wasn’t for me. I will take them to the next adventure and by then I will have inhaled enough deep breaths of fresh un-air conditioned air and soaked up enough sun to make up for that year spent bathing in the florescent blubs of my cubicle
This is my confession.