You ever notice how everyone is still pretending things are normal?
The economy: perfectly stable, definitely not powered by hopes, prayers, and four credit cards taped together like a Frankenstein wallet. Society: totally united, as long as nobody speaks, breathes, or makes eye contact. Workplaces: smoothly functioning, if you ignore the smoke, the alarms, and Cheryl in HR chain-smoking behind the dumpster whispering, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Meanwhile me?
I don’t go to work and deal with their bullshit anymore.
Nope.
I walked out of that circus tent like a lion who realized the whip guy is 5’6”, pre-diabetic, and one panic attack away from folding.
I’m not fighting clowns for peanuts.
Not anymore.
Today (Thursday) Shows Up Like:
“Hey. Remember me? Reality? Yeah… I’m still garbage.”
And everyone else just keeps clocking in
like they’re volunteering for psychological experiments sponsored by Monster Energy and unresolved childhood trauma.
I watch from a healthy distance now, like wildlife research:
Ah yes. Observe the American Worker in their natural habitat: hunched, caffeinated, and spiritually deceased.
Majestic creatures, truly.
Work Culture in 2025:
“We’re a family.”
Oh absolutely.
A family.
The kind of family where:
the favorite child gets promoted for breathing, the middle child does all the work and gets “pizza party” recognition, and the uncle in accounting is one bad audit away from a manifesto.
I remember supervisors saying crap like:
“We all must sacrifice.”
Buddy…
You mean us, not you.
You’re giving inspirational speeches while driving home in a new SUV bought with the savings from firing half the staff.
And you have the nerve to sip a Starbucks latte while talking about “budget concerns”?
Get thee behind me, Spreadsheet Judas.
But let’s talk about the real code of the workplace:
Look busy. Pretend to care. Die quietly so no one has to fill out extra forms.
Extra credit if you:
say “Sure, no problem” when it is in fact a problem go to a “team building event” in a park that smells like hot dog water or apologize to the printer.
Yes.
We’ve all done that walk of shame:
“Please… just print… I’m begging you.”
Meanwhile, I’m Just Out Here Like:
I didn’t “quit.”
I escaped.
I pulled a Shawshank Redemption but with more cussing and fewer tunnels.
The sun hits different when you ain’t being spiritually mugged.
And Here’s the Gospel Truth:
We are not broken.
We are awake.
We finally realized the system was designed to drain us, tame us, and replace us with someone cheaper.
And we said:
Nah. I’m still holy enough to cause trouble.
Rebellion isn’t always fire and riots.
Sometimes rebellion is:
Sleeping in. Breathing. Laughing. Remembering you have a soul.
Today’s Prayer:
Lord, keep my mouth shut just long enough to avoid jail time, but not so long that I start tolerating fools again. Amen.
Closing Words
We may be tired.
We may be sarcastic.
We may be out here mentally flipping tables like Jesus in the temple on $2 margarita night.
Saint Dirty Face 