The Curse of Work
According to an anonymous member of my generation, the essence of work/career is, and I'm paraphrasing, pissing away the best years of life to get money for things that we don't need.
Now, on the surface there may be a fleeting instinct to say an amen and move on; we are no doubt guilty of consumerism. We have more luxuries than any preceding generation and we always want more. Why do we always need more, and what is it about us that can't be satisfied with plenty? I don't pretend to have the answer, as I'm as bad about this as anyone.
But while the coda to the sentiment has a ring of truth in it, the first half is jejune.
It has been said that if you love what you do you will never work a day in you life. This is ludicrous, of course. You can love your work, be passionate about it, derive fulfillment from it, and it will still be labour and toil. It brings with it stress and worry and long hour and short nights. Every workaholic knows--or should know--that having work you love is a two edged sword.
But work is not quite the drudge that it could be. Let us have a little perspective.
We are fortunate, again, that we live in times of such plenty and ease. Prior to the 20th century leisure time was a rare thing to enjoy. Wage labor before the 20th century would have averaged 60+ hours a week at work, and pre-20th century agricultural workers would have averaged an estimated 10-13 hours a day. The pre-modern world was one of near constant labor, much more closely and obviously linked to the aim of survival.
But our misguided hero has stumbled across a truth in the way he frames the issue. The work is to accrue things beyond the basic needs to survive.
This is not, after all, the tale of the ant and the grasshopper, where the grasshopper must dance or die. If you are reading these words from within the confines of the American border, or the border of virtually any developed country, you are in a place where precious few die of hunger, save by extenuating circumstances. We live in a world of charities and social safety nets; places that are not luxurious, but take the struggle for survival out of the picture.
Why then does our hero complain? He may quit working any time with the reasonable expectation that he will not die, and he will be able to get his hands on the things needed to survive. Only the extra and unneeded will be missing.
Perfect, except that he is caught in his own lie to himself.
What he means when he says work is pissing his life away is that he wants to use his time for luxury and leisure and travel.
His coda is wrong; we are not working for shit that we don't need, we are working for meaningful things that we do. We are working so that we can travel and see the wondrous things this world has to offer. We are working to afford nice things for our friends and families, and yes, sometimes for ourselves. We are working that we may savor the fruits of our labors--that our labor might yield not only the stuffs needed for survival, but that we might have joy of our produce. But this is still ultimately unsatisfying without a longer lens.
Our friend is turned inward, and so he sees the tension between having to give up leisure time--which he wants--to acquire things that will make that time more pleasant. The problem--the very crux of the issue--is that he is focused solely on himself. It would make him happiest to have leisure time, and the ability to travel as he would, and maybe some nice things. Work is not a good in itself.
Take a step back. We travel over roads laid by labor, in vehicles built by labor, powered by fuel that comes through a trans-global labor intensive process. On our way to our destinations, we eat food grown and prepared by the labor of others. We expect to stay at hotels built and maintained by others when we reach our destination. Our ability to have leisure is based upon the diligent work of others, just as their leisure may depend upon us.
We do not live in a plenteous time because it is plenteous by default apart from our labor. It is our work that orders the world and makes it a habitable place for our fellows. The work is itself good, and our combined work ameliorates some of the hardships faced by humankind,
So, friend, do not fret. You are not pissing away your life. You are joining your labor to that of your fellows, and by the sweat of our brows we have not only bread, but some of the leisure you crave.
Now, on the surface there may be a fleeting instinct to say an amen and move on; we are no doubt guilty of consumerism. We have more luxuries than any preceding generation and we always want more. Why do we always need more, and what is it about us that can't be satisfied with plenty? I don't pretend to have the answer, as I'm as bad about this as anyone.
But while the coda to the sentiment has a ring of truth in it, the first half is jejune.
It has been said that if you love what you do you will never work a day in you life. This is ludicrous, of course. You can love your work, be passionate about it, derive fulfillment from it, and it will still be labour and toil. It brings with it stress and worry and long hour and short nights. Every workaholic knows--or should know--that having work you love is a two edged sword.
But work is not quite the drudge that it could be. Let us have a little perspective.
We are fortunate, again, that we live in times of such plenty and ease. Prior to the 20th century leisure time was a rare thing to enjoy. Wage labor before the 20th century would have averaged 60+ hours a week at work, and pre-20th century agricultural workers would have averaged an estimated 10-13 hours a day. The pre-modern world was one of near constant labor, much more closely and obviously linked to the aim of survival.
But our misguided hero has stumbled across a truth in the way he frames the issue. The work is to accrue things beyond the basic needs to survive.
This is not, after all, the tale of the ant and the grasshopper, where the grasshopper must dance or die. If you are reading these words from within the confines of the American border, or the border of virtually any developed country, you are in a place where precious few die of hunger, save by extenuating circumstances. We live in a world of charities and social safety nets; places that are not luxurious, but take the struggle for survival out of the picture.
Why then does our hero complain? He may quit working any time with the reasonable expectation that he will not die, and he will be able to get his hands on the things needed to survive. Only the extra and unneeded will be missing.
Perfect, except that he is caught in his own lie to himself.
What he means when he says work is pissing his life away is that he wants to use his time for luxury and leisure and travel.
His coda is wrong; we are not working for shit that we don't need, we are working for meaningful things that we do. We are working so that we can travel and see the wondrous things this world has to offer. We are working to afford nice things for our friends and families, and yes, sometimes for ourselves. We are working that we may savor the fruits of our labors--that our labor might yield not only the stuffs needed for survival, but that we might have joy of our produce. But this is still ultimately unsatisfying without a longer lens.
Our friend is turned inward, and so he sees the tension between having to give up leisure time--which he wants--to acquire things that will make that time more pleasant. The problem--the very crux of the issue--is that he is focused solely on himself. It would make him happiest to have leisure time, and the ability to travel as he would, and maybe some nice things. Work is not a good in itself.
Take a step back. We travel over roads laid by labor, in vehicles built by labor, powered by fuel that comes through a trans-global labor intensive process. On our way to our destinations, we eat food grown and prepared by the labor of others. We expect to stay at hotels built and maintained by others when we reach our destination. Our ability to have leisure is based upon the diligent work of others, just as their leisure may depend upon us.
We do not live in a plenteous time because it is plenteous by default apart from our labor. It is our work that orders the world and makes it a habitable place for our fellows. The work is itself good, and our combined work ameliorates some of the hardships faced by humankind,
So, friend, do not fret. You are not pissing away your life. You are joining your labor to that of your fellows, and by the sweat of our brows we have not only bread, but some of the leisure you crave.
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