What if Sisyphus had company? Company he that he could hardly bear and that opted to listen to Usher, Craig David and Katy Perry.
What if King Sisyphus worked his way to King in a culture that promoted avarice and self-aggrandizing behaviors?
What if King Sisyphus never made it to King but he still rolled his religiously, in the company of complete morons who enjoyed listening to Usher, Craig David, Katy Perry and even Drake?

Working in a job you dislike is of course Sisyphean, but bearable with decent company,  and generally expected in modern society.
Working in a job which makes your moral fiber ache, which makes you question yourself readily and which contributes to a lesser version of planet Earth is perhaps one of the huge compromises a person may bend too in their life time. But to do so with a crowd of people who don’t know who Led Zeppelin are… That is a full-on sacrifice.
I, am currently in the said situation, where a bad day at work is so soul-sappingly bad, my obsession with arbitrarily lifting heavy objects for a sum – paid monthly to another evil-corp- seems justified. Especially so if it avoids a workplace murder suicide scenario.

Of course this sacrifice is for the greater good, one day I will be able to stand out of the way of my rolling stone and call after it “Fuck you, Rolling Stone!” My Sisyphean efforts are not eternal but they have allowed me a glance into a void which I had forgotten. The void which Sisyphus faces, which I have faced before. The pointlessness of life is undeniable, misery compiles and compacts misery in an existential hellishness that goes on seemingly forever. That is when it is bad. The urge to jump into the void, in this case to stand up at my desk and shout “Fuck you, Rolling Stone, I quit.” But I don’t do that, I roll my rock up the hill. Hoping for a brighter day. Stuck in sales for perpetuity.

Of course this is because I know I have an out. Or at least I hope I do.

When it’s good life goes by unnoticed, the rock is there when you wake up. My days off from the metaphorical rock – read workplace- are to be spent in an ever fuller fashion. The emptiness of my first days lounging must be replaced with productivity. Otherwise they will contribute nothing but more rock. That didn’t make sense but I know what I mean.
Save yourself!
Salvation comes from within!
Saliva comes from your chin.
Except none of that is true, you have to be well set up in the first instance.

Anyway, I’ll change track and explain the nature of my compromise. Unconditional love. That is a Katy Perry lyric but it gets to the point.

My arbitrary making of money for An Evil Corp will be backed up by arbitrary lifting of weights (going to the gym) and the weekend activity of chasing around a balloon with 21 other men and this arbitrary creative outlet and some self-improvement (learning a language and studying a journalism course) and volunteering. None of which are arbitrary. (The journalism could be…(This depends on the readers devotion to MrHummels)). But perhaps I shall be happy, perhaps it will all lead to something. I have work in the morning so I really musn’t stay too late.

I will leave you with this.

It’s not Katy Perry but it says all I could ever say.

“Fuck you, Katy!”

All my Love.

MrHummels