The "Jobs" Market

I walked by a Banana Republic today, and saw a thirty-something woman walking around aimlessly with a nametag on her shirt.

"What's this?!" thought I to myself...

But then I remembered my trip to Merchant's Tire and Auto. My trips. I don't want to cast aspersions. It may be my car that caused me to go back twice to have the alignment fixed. Maybe.

Or it may be that people are being forced to work in positions that mean nothing to them. To support an economy that has no real basis in anything (even, more and more, itself). They do tasks that dull the imagination, blunt the senses, enforce debilitating class separations and the habits engered therein.

I know. I've worked there.

I worked at your local copy shop. It was pure button-pushing. Push the button. Inhale the fumes (ozone mixed with toner). Stand under the lights. Lose your mind. Good night my friend. We're open 24 hours. We close at 8.

Most of us push buttons. It's just more or less obvious.