Warning: Angry, defeatist rant ahead.

Tonight in Creative Writing class I laughed out loud because I realized that during my thoroughly jam-packed day—from before sunrise to well after sunset—I hadn’t done a single thing that I enjoyed. Quite literally, not one. I did nothing “for me,” took no breaks, did nothing creative. I don’t know if typing this blog feverishly before going to bed counts as fun, but it will give me an opportunity to vent. My wife went to bed within moments of my arrival home, partly because she was tired but probably partly because all I did was complain after walking through the door.

By the way, I’d like to go on record as saying I have no idea how you folks with kids do it. How do you get through an evening with your kid(s)—even a single evening—without blowing your stacks? My cat is bothering me right now; he’s pacing the apartment howling and he just left his traditional baguette-sized turd in the litter box to welcome me home. I cannot imagine having to feed and entertain a child at night. I am truly in awe of anyone who can pull it off.

Today we had Day One of three days worth of software training at my place of employment. I foolishly hoped that by working in a non-profit religious institution the focus on the business end of things would be secondary to the greater picture. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I have discovered that it doesn’t matter where you work—Corporate America or a Jewish temple—people crave business-speak.

This was a particularly instructive day because I think I discovered something about human nature and why I have such a tough time fitting in. It’s because I personally feel that nothing is important whereas others adamantly believe that they, or perhaps more correctly what they do, are/is important.

Regular readers know that I question mankind’s place in the great scheme of things and believe that we are indescribably insignificant. Contrast that with the fact that every single day I run into people who not only take tremendous pride in their careers, but they truly garner every shred of their self-worth from same.

I actually had a person suggest via e-mail that I “have a dialogue” with another employee about a project that’s in the works. It was all I could do not to reply with a sarcastic “I won’t ‘have a dialogue’ with him, but perhaps I’ll talk to him.” How much more pretentious can you get than use the phrase “have a dialogue” with a straight face? Squint your eyes and look heavenward. Make a circle between your thumb and forefinger. Count the pinpricks of light that fit there. Ten? A hundred? Two hundred? Now say “have a dialogue” to me and tell me you don’t feel like an utter fool.

Now I can hear my less-cynical pals saying “Geez, Admin: Cut the guy a break. Maybe that’s just how he talks.” Well, context is everything, and you’ll just have to trust me that the context of his multi-paragraph e-mail made it clear that he lives for this sort of thing. He was just itching for the opportunity to “mark his territory;” to prove his place in the hierarchy by sending a buzzword-laden e-mail to the new guy, establishing early on that he’s the king of his own personal (meaningless) fiefdom. "You're in charge?" I wanted to ask. "Guess what: You can fucking have it! I don't want it!"

It’s sad that even at the religious institution where I work, people try to outdo one another with their “on the cross” stories, which is an unfortunate phrase to use given that it’s a Jewish temple. Once a month they hold a Board of Directors meeting and people speak—hardly able to conceal their pride—about how late it went. “Last night it only went ‘til 10 p.m., but once it went ‘til midnight!”

Well, that’s just wonderful. We're all impressed beyond fucking belief. I’m sure your wife and children were quite understanding when you tip-toed into the house at 1 a.m., sad that they missed yet another evening with their spouse/parent, but happy that finally—after exhaustive debate—a majority of the Board finally approved the color of the company stationery.

My wife and I have talked half-jokingly about joining the Peace Corps. I’m glad we haven’t, because I have a sneaking suspicion—actually, I know damned well—that even the Peace Corps is awash in red tape. I’m sure that even an organization that is the epitome of selflessness and charity doesn’t make a move without endless meetings, incessant use of important-sounding business-speak (dialogue, database, organizational structure, blah blah blah), and all the other assorted horseshit that makes a mockery of the gift of life.

Sometimes the only thing that keeps me from pledging all-out belief in Christianity is my fear that, since God presumably created mankind in his image, heaven will prove to be nothing more than an infinite series of cubicles. St. Peter will show us each to our desks where we’ll have meetings, engage in dialogue, make important decisions, and create piles and piles of paperwork to notarize, photocopy, distribute, revise, resubmit, fold, spindle and mutilate. And when we look at the wisened Saint questioningly, he’ll shrug his shoulders and say “Hey, that’s how you spend your lives: We figured you enjoyed it.”