I know I shouldn't do this. The Internet is really only a place for the happiest thoughts and emotions. The first rule of the Internet should be that you don't ever, under any circumstances, complain on the Internet. But I'm going to break that rule. And it's going to feel incredible.
So, I work for this lady. She pays me a fairly generous amount to do work that she would rather not do. And I do it. However, that does not change the fact that the work I do is the very embodiment of tedium. I mean, there's a damn good reason she doesn't want to do it: it's terrible.
In simple terms, it really doesn't sound too bad: I write one or two paragraphs about dead actors who, more often than not, spent their entire lives in near-total obscurity. What do these actors have in common? They were all in the same old television show. And I have to write a biography for each and every single one. Even the stagecoach driver who was never anything other than a stagecoach driver, even in the five other westerns he appeared in and "Perry Mason."
Now, that still doesn't sound too bad. Just take a quick look at the episode guide and IMDB, right? Nope. I have to give each and every one character. It doesn't matter that they all served in some branch of the military, appeared in the same five westerns and "Perry Mason," and then unanimously kicked the bucket in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles. Every single one is a special snowflake deserving of love and attention.
I don't believe in awarding medals to the kids who never made it off the motherfucking bench. But she does. She noted that I had failed to include film credits for quite a few actors. Probably I was being careless, right? No. Not at all. The reason I did not and do not include them is because the roles are uncredited. Or, the film is so obscure that there's not even a poster, nor a picture of any of the leading actors on IMDB. On the contrary, I used my critical thinking skills to determine that nobody would give a flying fuck that the obscure actor who played the stagecoach driver in episode 77 was in the same room as a marginally more famous actor at some point during his miserable life (nevermind that he never so much as talked to him).
Okay, I'm done. I feel better.
TL;DR: I hate my job. I hate it dead. However, I am very thankful that I have it and will never, under any circumstances, do anything other than smile and nod.
Feel free to share your tales of work-related woe. Make other people feel better about theirs. I know you guys in retail have some great stories to tell.
So, I work for this lady. She pays me a fairly generous amount to do work that she would rather not do. And I do it. However, that does not change the fact that the work I do is the very embodiment of tedium. I mean, there's a damn good reason she doesn't want to do it: it's terrible.
In simple terms, it really doesn't sound too bad: I write one or two paragraphs about dead actors who, more often than not, spent their entire lives in near-total obscurity. What do these actors have in common? They were all in the same old television show. And I have to write a biography for each and every single one. Even the stagecoach driver who was never anything other than a stagecoach driver, even in the five other westerns he appeared in and "Perry Mason."
Now, that still doesn't sound too bad. Just take a quick look at the episode guide and IMDB, right? Nope. I have to give each and every one character. It doesn't matter that they all served in some branch of the military, appeared in the same five westerns and "Perry Mason," and then unanimously kicked the bucket in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles. Every single one is a special snowflake deserving of love and attention.
I don't believe in awarding medals to the kids who never made it off the motherfucking bench. But she does. She noted that I had failed to include film credits for quite a few actors. Probably I was being careless, right? No. Not at all. The reason I did not and do not include them is because the roles are uncredited. Or, the film is so obscure that there's not even a poster, nor a picture of any of the leading actors on IMDB. On the contrary, I used my critical thinking skills to determine that nobody would give a flying fuck that the obscure actor who played the stagecoach driver in episode 77 was in the same room as a marginally more famous actor at some point during his miserable life (nevermind that he never so much as talked to him).
Okay, I'm done. I feel better.
TL;DR: I hate my job. I hate it dead. However, I am very thankful that I have it and will never, under any circumstances, do anything other than smile and nod.
Feel free to share your tales of work-related woe. Make other people feel better about theirs. I know you guys in retail have some great stories to tell.