In my opinion, the sun was made to light worthier toil than this.
~Henry David Thoreau
Without a doubt, surviving is probably important. Without a doubt, I like to eat and drink. A cold beer in the evening and a hot coffee in the morning are all the proof I need of a benevolent God. The question is should I be forced to trade so much of my life for the indulgence. It’s a widely accepted belief cold beer tastes so much better after a hard day at work and a hot coffee is even more delicious after a five AM alarm. Both are almost too keen to endure. I think I could learn to enjoy both without the sacrifice, though.
I understand how much better we have it than our ancestors who tilled the land, often for the benefit of a wealthy landowner. In some cases, there were laws that forbid serfs from eating meat or fish more than once a day. This left macaroni for lunch and a bagel for breakfast. No, they should have been so lucky. It was probably some stew with potatoes and carrots, and a bread crust. Of course, this only applies to those of us who aren’t descended from the aristocracy. Considering my current situation I can proudly claim my heritage as a member of the peasantry.
As a child, I remember watching episodes of the Jetsons. It was a cartoon centered around a family, the Jetsons, who lived in the world of tomorrow. A world with flying cars, jet packs, a robot maid, moving sidewalks and myriad appliances that would amaze Apple, Google and Microsoft. George, the father, was employed by Spacely Sprockets and worked directly for Cosmo S. Spacely. Mr. Spacely was a short, round balding tyrant with a ridiculous combover. He was constantly chewing on a cigar and screaming abuse at a cowering, well-coiffed George Jetson. Jetson may have been an incompetent boob, but it was never clear what his job responsibilities as a “Digital Index Operator” were, or if he performed them efficiently or not. You have to think if he deserved that kind of abuse he should have been fired, or demoted. If it was just the abuse of a despot he should have gotten a different job, a job where he was appreciated and treated with respect. It left you wondering if the future was filled with giant corporations run by megalomaniacs and no matter where poor George worked he was doomed to a life of untrammeled abuse.
Science fiction is filled with terrifying depictions of a post-apocalyptic world. A world where people struggle to survive. Most jobs seem to be in the service industry, wait staff, bartender, a few unfortunates always seem to be mining for something. Dropping into dangerous depths to extract some valuable mineral or substance that provides unbelievable wealth to a small minority. The poor get poor and the rich get rich.
Even the stories about utopia involve some nefarious overlord, moving unknowing pawns for his own pleasure. Free will and self-determination drive a few rebellious individuals to revolt and throw a monkey wrench into the gears of the utopian façade machine and it comes crashing down in a wild, bloody civil war. Not really anything to look forward to with delightful anticipation.
Any way you cut it life is all about trading time for money or crops or berries and roots, depending on how far back you want to go.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have a lot of jobs. I’m almost chronically employable, and I’ve managed to mold most of them to my personality, even when co-workers and employers would have been much happier if I would have just tried to fit in. But, I still have to follow orders, achieve minimum production standards and more or less meet baseline responsibilities. And, once every two weeks, I’m rewarded with a deposit in my bank account. Pavlov would have been proud.
I guess there is no real hope for free spirits and gypsies. They say work is its own reward, but we still need to get paid, that’s the whole point. I scratch your back you give me money. As long as you can find someone with an itchy back and you don’t mind the transaction you can get by, past, present and future.
—
This post is republished on Medium.
—
FOTO:Fortepan — ID 1729: 
Adományozó/Donor: UVATERV.
