The job you had was always a good job because you had it. It was yours and you could do it. You had a routine. You knew what you were doing. Losing it means finding a new routine in which you don't know what you're doing, and you need to learn new things and get into a new groove, and fuck all that. What are you, psychotic? Learning new things is best left for children and/or people rich enough to only have to learn fun things, like piloting small aircraft and taking bikini photos of hot models on beaches.
Ingram Publishing/Ingram Publishing/Getty Images
Must be nice.
The kind of shit I need to learn at a new job is how to operate the floor buffer, or what the combination is for the fish locker. I don't want to work anyplace that has a secure fish locker. What are we keeping the fish locked away from? Is it cats, or is there a race of lobster men I need to be aware of? Will I be trained to deal with the lobster men, or is this the kind of shit you expect me to improvise when and if it becomes necessary? I'm not ready for the war with the crustaceans.
The Best New Job Is An Old Job
Familiarity breeds contempt, except where money is concerned. The more familiar you are with a job, the happier you'll be -- at least in principle. Like, you may be borderline psychotic from gutting fish for 30 years, but by god, when you snap, all your victims are going to be gutted in the most efficient way the media has ever seen. Because you know your job and you're good at it. Which is why your first instinct after getting fired is to look for basically the same job anywhere else. It's your niche.
Precision cuts were always your destiny.
But no new job will ever be quite as good as a job you've already done, and this is why burning bridges is a terrible idea -- not just from a river-crossing standpoint, but from all standpoints. You might think leaving a job in a blaze of middle fingers, fart sounds, and C-bombs would be a great way to stick it to corporate America, but corporate America is more foul than one disgruntled employee could ever be. Remember, you may tell your boss to go fuck his grandma's skull with a goat dick, but the company he worked for may very well have exploited tens of thousands of children in third-world countries to manufacture their goods. They're evil; you're just miffed. Think the devil cares if you don't use a coaster in his house?
So if you have any job you can bear and you find yourself quitting or getting fired, don't leave by dropping trou and scooting your ass across the floor like a dog who ate dental floss and now has a poop net festering back there.
Besides, your dog just does that because he wants you to recycle more.
Leave with grace and dignity, because maybe one day you can come back in a better position. Or maybe someone there will have another job somewhere else, and will remember you as a person who wasn't an arsonist (a quality many employers are looking for). Push that rage aside and just focus it on being better. It'll probably help you in the long run.
As you may have guessed, this section here is absolutely about being back at Cracked. I was away for a while due to employment constraints, and now I have returned to make love to your brains with my words. This is much better than trying to become a staff writer for Cat Fancy magazine, because I don't even fancy cats that much, and I'll be damned if I'm going to spend time on weekends and evenings learning how just so I can whip up some articles on why Maine Coons are better suited to your personality than the scrotal sphinx cat. It's good to be back.
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