JERRY'S MARGINALIA — THE GAME WE WERE TAUGHT TO PLAY? MOTHERFUCKER, I JUST WANT SOME ULRICS
By: Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
So apparently, according to LinkedIn, we've all been playing the wrong game.
You know the game. Go to school. Get a job. Make money. Buy a house. Find somebody to love. Work your ass off. Retire. Die.
And apparently, we're all supposed to sit around scratching our fucking heads wondering why none of this brings us happiness.
Well, ain't that some shit?
Let me tell you something.
Somewhere out there, some poor bastard is standing in a warehouse with three or four pallets of Purina Peppercorn left to move, and some motivational motherfucker on LinkedIn is telling him that the real problem is the game society taught him to play.
MOTHERFUCKER, THE PALLETS AREN'T GOING TO MOVE THEMSELVES.
You think Jerry gives a flying fuck about discovering his authentic self while he's sweating through his shirt, wondering whether his paycheck is going to cover rent, groceries, and whatever other financial kick in the balls life has prepared for him?
NO.
JERRY WANTS TO FINISH HIS FUCKING SHIFT.
And preferably without somebody coming around to explain that his desire for financial stability is actually a symptom of some deep psychological conditioning.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR SUCCESS. NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY.
Here's what gets my ass.
These motivational speeches always seem to come from people who've already made it somewhere.
"I was successful. I made more money than I ever imagined. I had recognition. I had everything society told me I should want. But I wasn't happy."
Well, congratulations!
I'm genuinely sorry you were unhappy.
But you know what?
I'D LIKE THE OPPORTUNITY TO BE UNHAPPY WITH A FUCKING PAYCHECK.
Not because I believe money buys happiness.
Not because I think a job defines my entire existence.
But because being unemployed while the bills keep coming is a special kind of bullshit that no amount of inspirational philosophy is going to magically fix.
You know what's really fascinating?
My landlord doesn't accept spiritual enlightenment.
My electric company doesn't accept self-discovery.
And the grocery store sure as shit doesn't let me exchange personal fulfillment for a package of ground beef.
"That'll be $37.42, sir."
"Well, you see, I've recently discovered that I've been playing the wrong game."
"Sir, cash or card?"
EXACTLY.
SOME OF US AREN'T TRYING TO WIN THE GAME.
We're trying to fucking survive it.
That's the part that gets conveniently overlooked in these beautiful little motivational essays.
Not everybody is chasing a mansion.
Not everybody wants a Lamborghini.
Not everybody dreams of becoming a CEO, entrepreneur, influencer, motivational speaker, or whatever the latest LinkedIn circle jerk is promoting this week.
Some of us want to wake up, go to work, do our jobs, get paid, and go the fuck home.
That's it.
I spent months working twelve-hour shifts. Was the job perfect? HELL NO. Did I love every minute? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT.
But I had somewhere to be.
I had a routine.
I had money coming in.
I could make plans based on something more substantial than crossing my fingers and hoping somebody would respond to a job application.
Then that disappeared.
And now I'm sitting here reading about how we're all supposedly miserable because we're chasing the wrong things.
Buddy, I'm not chasing enlightenment.
I'M CHASING EMPLOYMENT.
There's a difference.
BUT WAIT! THERE'S A RETREAT!
And here comes the part that really makes me laugh.
After explaining how chasing achievements, possessions, and external validation won't make us happy, there's an invitation to explore guides, retreats, and private coaching.
OF COURSE THERE FUCKING IS.
Because apparently the solution to playing the wrong game is to sign up for somebody else's.
"Stop looking outside yourself for happiness!"
Also:
"Come check out my services!"
Beautiful.
Absolutely beautiful.
I don't begrudge somebody making a living. Hell, that's precisely what I'm trying to do.
But you've got to appreciate the irony of telling people to stop chasing external solutions while advertising your own.
Maybe I should start my own retreat.
JERRY'S SEVEN-DAY WAREHOUSE ENLIGHTENMENT EXPERIENCE.
Day One: Move the Purina Peppercorn.
Day Two: Move more Purina Peppercorn.
Day Three: Contemplate the meaning of life while moving Purina Peppercorn.
Day Four: Discover that the fucking pallets are still there.
Day Five: Question whether the forklift has achieved spiritual awakening.
Day Six: Get yelled at because somebody put a pallet in the wrong location.
Day Seven: GET YOUR FUCKING PAYCHECK.
Congratulations.
You've discovered the meaning of employment.
HERE'S MY UNSOLICITED ADVICE.
Look, I'm not saying there's nothing worthwhile in questioning how society defines success.
There absolutely is.
People ruin themselves trying to impress strangers. They buy things they can't afford. They work themselves into the ground chasing promotions they don't even want.
Fine. Talk about that.
But don't confuse the desire for stability with the pursuit of status.
Don't tell somebody who's struggling to find work that the real problem is the game they've been conditioned to play.
And for the love of all things holy, don't act like everybody has the luxury of abandoning the rat race to discover themselves.
Some of us have rats to feed.
Some of us ARE the fucking rats.
And some of us are just trying to get through October without another financial disaster.
I don't need somebody to tell me that happiness comes from within.
I need somebody to call me back about a job.
I need an employer to say, "Hey, can you start Monday?"
I need a regular schedule, a reasonable paycheck, and a workplace that doesn't make me question my sanity every other afternoon.
You can keep the motivational speeches.
You can keep the expensive retreats.
You can keep the seven-day reset guides and the beautifully packaged wisdom.
JUST GIVE ME A GODDAMN JOB.
And when I get one?
I'll show up.
I'll work.
I'll earn my money.
I'll go home.
Maybe I'll watch some shitty television, eat something delicious, and laugh at something profoundly stupid on the internet.
And you know what?
That sounds like a pretty fucking good life to me.
Not glamorous.
Not inspirational.
Not particularly LinkedIn-worthy.
But mine.
Now, if you'll excuse me, apparently Jerry still has four pallets of Purina Peppercorn to move.
And unlike a motivational LinkedIn article, those motherfuckers aren't going to disappear just because I change my mindset.
With love, respect, and an aggressively unemployed pallet jack,
Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Jerry's Marginalia
P.S. If anybody needs a reliable warehouse worker, I'm available. If anybody needs a motivational speaker, try LinkedIn. Apparently they're fucking everywhere.