As sad as this sounds, the school year will soon be at an end. Soon many of us will be leaving this college paradise to do other things and see other places. Please, don’t cry. As long as SDSU is in your heart, SDSU will be with you.
Okay, that’s a bunch a crap. However, so is cow dung.
What isn’t feces, however, is the reality that after the end of the year, I will have to get a summer job. And the thing about a summer job is, well, it requires me to work.
Which I am firmly against.
Work is to be done by others: people who are not I. After all, I’m young. Work is meant for an assortment of older people who have to support families and children and pay their mortgages. I’m supposed to be sitting and/or frolicking on a sandy beach with lemonade in my hand and many beautiful girls around me.
I guess I’ll have to live with the fact that there will be no frolicking for me this summer. Instead I’ll be getting up at 5:15 in the morning so I can trudge into work by 6 a.m. Once there, my bossman, Mr. Anal-retentive-man-who-loves-his-work-way-too-much, will yell at me because I’m a temp and bossman likes to yell at temps.
My job will consist of some type of mindless factory work. My co-workers will be a bunch of trained chimpanzees?both figuratively and literally. On the wall will be a company slogan that is so condescending it actually inspires the workers to become communists. A slogan like, “We will delight the customer with high-quality products that were built by trained monkeys and worthless proletariat scum.”
I could live with all of that, though. What I can’t live with is because I’m so tired and because of the horrendous work environment and because I can’t talk with trained monkeys, I will have some of the most god-awful, John Denveresque songs running through my head. The types of songs that make “Country Roads” seem like a triumph of modern music. While I work, every song I hate by every musical artist I despise will run through my head, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Which makes me want to cry.
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