In Defense of Boring
By Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Apparently, “boring” is a bad word now.
You can't just want a boring job.
No, no.
Your workplace must be dynamic.
It must be challenging.
It must provide opportunities for growth.
You must be passionate.
You must join a fast-paced environment with a family-oriented culture where every day presents exciting new challenges.
Sir.
I want to make Ulrics.
I don't know what an Ulric is.
Neither do you.
That's perfect.
Put me in front of a machine and tell me:
“This is an Ulric.”
Okay.
“This is how you make an Ulric.”
Excellent.
“We need 147 Ulrics today.”
Outstanding.
Now get the fuck out of my way.
I will make your Ulrics.
At some point, someone will say, “Jerry, it's break time.”
I will stop making Ulrics.
Fifteen minutes later, I will resume Ulric production.
At noon, I will eat my sandwich.
Then I will return to the sacred manufacture of Ulrics until somebody finally says the most beautiful words ever spoken in the English language:
“That's it. You're done for today.”
I clock out.
I throw the deuces.
I go home.
Why is this apparently an unreasonable career aspiration?
Why are we so allergic to boring?
I've had exciting employment.
I don't recommend it.
Exciting employment means you wake up wondering what fresh piece of bullshit has spawned overnight.
Exciting employment means rules that somehow become interpretive dance.
Exciting employment means spending your evening conducting a forensic investigation into a conversation that lasted seventeen seconds.
Exciting employment means wondering why something was acceptable Tuesday, questionable Wednesday, and apparently grounds for the fucking Nuremberg Trials by Friday.
I have experienced sufficient character development.
Thank you.
I would now like filler episodes.
Give me predictable.
Give me repetitive.
Give me a supervisor whose greatest interaction with me is:
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Everything running okay?”
“Yep.”
“Cool.”
That's my guy.
Promote that motherfucker immediately.
Somewhere along the way, we decided that your job needs to provide meaning.
Why?
My paycheck provides meaning.
My groceries provide meaning.
Rent being paid provides quite a bit of meaning.
Seeing money remain in my bank account after the bills clear is practically a religious experience.
And Retirement Boris?
Retirement Boris needs to eat too.
I don't need my employer to become my identity.
I don't need to wake up inspired by the corporate mission statement.
I don't need to describe my coworkers as family.
I have family.
I need you to explain the job clearly, train me properly, give me the equipment necessary to perform it, pay me what we agreed upon, and then—this is the revolutionary part—allow me to go home.
Because that's where my actual life is.
At home I can game.
I can cook.
I can write nonsense on the internet.
I can talk to people I care about.
I can spend an unreasonable amount of time contemplating whether a cat would tolerate me.
I can engage in hobbies so stupid that LinkedIn would suffer a catastrophic server failure trying to describe them as transferable skills.
That's living.
The job finances it.
And there's dignity in that arrangement.
There is dignity in showing up when you're supposed to.
There is dignity in learning your station.
There is dignity in doing repetitive work correctly even when nobody applauds you for it.
There is dignity in knowing exactly what is expected of you and delivering it.
Not everybody needs to conquer the corporate world.
Some of us would simply like to manufacture a respectable quantity of Ulrics and then leave.
So I'm reclaiming boring.
Boring is good.
Boring is predictable.
Boring pays the electric bill.
Boring puts groceries in the refrigerator.
Boring contributes five percent to the 401(k).
Boring sleeps pretty fucking well at night.
Give me a badge.
Give me a schedule.
Give me my station.
Show me the Ulric.
Tell me how many you need.
I'll do my best.
Then, at the end of the shift, I'm going to clock out and disappear so completely that management begins questioning whether I was ever actually there.
Tomorrow morning?
I'll be back on time.
Ready to make more Ulrics.
That's the deal.
That's employment.
That's boring.
And after everything I've seen?
Boring sounds fucking wonderful.
— Jerry