I’m beginning to think that only people whose jobs are inessential (to life and survival) – and that makes most of us – feel the need to reiterate how much they love their jobs. You rarely hear farmers, at least old school farmers, saying: “I cherish sowing these seeds” or “it’s a joy to wake up at daybreak and pull this heavy till around.”

There seems to be this fallacy perpetuated that we must love what we do. That we are what we do. I’ve subscribed to that pretty much all my life.

Maybe my problem is that I need to be doing something important, to be making some difference. Not just running around a wheel like a hamster generating a modicum of fuel to power on my own life. One would think choosing to be a journalist would fulfil that. But not really. How many journalists do anything really important. Sure, we make more of a difference than someone peddling credit cards but is it really worth all the effort to justify giving one a sense of purpose. Does entertaining people while they munch toast and belch over coffee constitute life purpose?

And then, I’m discovering that anything done over and over again loses its appeal because repetition is only charming when you’re two. I always thought sports people were lucky because they were doing something they were passionate about, but really, is it so alluring if you’re forced to win and always win, so help you career god? Imagine an F1 driver going round and round on a circuit for days on end. It would drive me – hehe pun! – nuts. And sports is awesome but at the end of the day, it’s just entertainment. Frills.

On the other hand, at least in my current (but not for too long) job, there are times when I meet people who are genuinely interesting and get to do and see and learn about really cool things and for those periods I’m distracted from the other shit that work invovles like, erm working, and pandering to the bosses, and getting out of bed and walking to office, and stressing about what comes next and…So why did I quit?

Am I going to be forever looking for some kind of satisfaction that is denied in the very nature of work itself? Are the only people who are satisfied with their jobs those who don’t think of satisfaction at all?

Heh, I am as confused as ever.

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