It’s Not You. It’s Me.

I am often struck by the amount of time I spend in front of the 10-foot bathroom mirror at work, pushing my bangs this way and that, and gently roughing up the crown of my hair so that it doesn’t look so flat and unwashed as it actually is.

I might have felt something like guilt about this habit once upon a time, but at the wise old age of almost thirty I have come to the conclusion that many people spend almost their entire workday doing anything but actual work. Just this morning my coworker yelled to me across the gallery as I sat atop a ladder, “I beat the computer at Connect Four!” (This was great news. Prior to this, we were a combined 0-90 against). It just so happened that I was working at the time. Ordinarily that sort of boast would have ignited a marathon of video games, our favorite of which involves a blank world map where you are asked to identify places like Botswana and Timor Laste (To date I have been the only one to score a 100, and only after a good two hours of playing).

The problem of the work ethic in our case is that we are fairly young and energetic, largely unsupervised, and have not nearly enough to do. The other more serious problem is that much of our socializing and entertainment is done via the computer, with which our job has so graciously provided us at our very own desks. The last, and probably most serious problem, is the fact that having a job is a lot like being in a mediocre relationship; it is just easier to stay together than to have to start dating again. If you're just phoning it in, you might not get a promotion, but you're still going to get to keep your desk. You have to really be a screw up to get fired.

For example, I have detected a pattern in myself--in relationships and jobs alike--that denotes a continual slide downward in performance and sex appeal, and still I have never been fired and only occasionally dumped. It is a sad eventuality and I am never surprised when these forays into the professional and romantic end in something approximating mutual disgust:

The first thing you will notice, if you are conducting a job interview or are on a first date with me, is that I will be dressed up and on my best behavior. I will tell you about myself in a positive light, but will be careful not to boast. I will smile a lot, and pretend to be at ease. I will act as though I am excited about our future, and that I have goals for us. You will see that I am a real charmer.

Over the next few weeks, whether you have hired me or have started sleeping over, I will be very attentive and will work hard to impress you. I will continue to shower every day and wear collared shirts. I will be punctual and upbeat, and even if I have been feeling a bit stressed out I will try not to let it show. You will think that you have made a good choice in hiring/fucking me.

Soon, the probationary period or the courting is over, and we will be in a relationship. I will let my guard down a bit, and stop always trying to get you to like me. I will be less positive, and far less outgoing. I will not shower every day, and may even wear the same outfit twice in a row. I will be surly in the mornings, and I will suddenly seem reluctant to bend over backwards like I used to. I will still get all my work done/help you cook dinner, but my temper will be short. I will wear old jeans a lot. You will notice these changes, but you will not bring it up.

After a while I will secretly loathe you. I will spend the time that I am with you dreaming about other jobs or other women. I will fall asleep at my desk or before you come over. I will act depressed when you are around and blame either work or home, whichever you are not. I will resent you and roll my eyes behind your back at almost anything you say. I will pray to get fired or dumped. I will drink a lot, and speak to you very little. You will not remember what you saw in me.

Eventually, it will be time for a work review or a talk about where our relationship is going. I will not have shaved in weeks. I will have nothing nice to say. I will accept none of the blame. I will make unreasonable demands of you. You will feel betrayed.

Finally, I will get a new job or meet a new girl. I will tell you flatly and mercilessly that I am leaving. I will not show any emotion. I will be clean and wearing slacks. How did you not see this coming?

...

Of course, some would say that I managed to break this trend romantically speaking as my 5-year anniversary approaches. Nonetheless, I continue to struggle professionally in much the same ways that I did when I was fresh from school.

Alas, perhaps I should count my blessings. After all, I've never had much interest in work but I've always been interested in women. And what's more important--having a career or having someone who says, "I love you too."?