Grade A Bullshit — Continued.
I’m not mad. That’s the funny part.
I’m past mad.
Mad has heat. Mad has direction. Mad still thinks something is listening.
This is colder than that.
This is Grade A Bullshit.
Not the exciting kind. Not the cinematic kind. The beige, procedural, soul-sanding kind where everything is technically “working as intended” and yet somehow you’re still getting squeezed with nothing to show for it.
You do the thing. Then you do the other thing. Then they tell you there’s one more thing.
No payoff yet. No relief yet. Just more boxes.
I’m doing CEUs right now. Training. Compliance. Admin rituals. Whatever label makes it sound respectable. They’re required. They’re necessary. They’re unpaid. They unlock nothing immediately. They exist so someone else can say “we’re covered” later.
I finish them? Cool. Still no money. Still waiting. Still “in the pipeline.”
And the system looks at you like: why are you confused? This is normal.
That’s the bullshit.
Not that the rules exist — rules always exist. It’s that the rules assume you have slack. Savings. Time. A buffer.
They assume life pauses while you comply.
It doesn’t.
Rent doesn’t care about onboarding phases. Trash still piles up. Food still costs money. Anxiety doesn’t wait for clearance emails.
So you make adult decisions in the gap.
You pay more than you should to stay boring. You compress trash bags like you’re trying to exorcise a demon. You line up solutions you can’t quite afford yet, just to feel like you’re not drowning.
And you don’t crash out.
That’s the part nobody applauds.
There’s no reward for restraint. No bonus for not flipping the table. No achievement badge for “handled quietly while exhausted.”
Just… more waiting.
People love to say “it’ll be worth it.” Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. That’s not the point.
The point is that naming the bullshit is the only relief you get sometimes.
Not to fight it. Not to dramatize it. Just to look at it clearly and say:
Yeah. I see you. You’re Grade A Bullshit. And I’m still standing.
That’s it. That’s the blog.
No lesson. No arc. Just a timestamp in the middle of the grind, proving I didn’t disappear quietly.
If nothing else, let the record show: I was here. I noticed. And I didn’t lie to myself about it.
— Jerry (yeah, this one counted)