Seven Deadly Jobs
The first, Gluttony, was the first real job I had, and while in college, the only job that was consistent and not seasonal or part-time. At the convenience store I would eat and drink with reckless abandon, gaining forty pounds in a period of three months. This was in addition to the food that I would bring home off the clock.
The second, Greed, was my first job outside of school, at the bank. My job was to earn as much money as possible, opening credit cards for the gullible, promising benefits of account ownership to those with no need of more, increasing the bottom line of a company that would later defraud its investors and beg for help when its assets turned against it.
The third, Sloth, was the law school after the bank. An incredible benefits package and a job that I should have been thankful to have, and taken advantage of by a complete lack of motivation to do anything in a timely fashion, half-assedly hurrying through the purportedly mundane tasks at hand in order to have time to do more nothing.
The fourth, Wrath, is my current position at the call center. An unending assembly line of frustration and hate being force-fed into my head, comingled with an excessively micromanaged work environment and an almost feudal caste system of responsibility. As yet I have not had a moment of sheer emblazoned rage as I figured out this emerging pattern before its ability to overcome me. I believe the struggle continues, however.
The fifth, Pride. What will come next, if anything? Will this seemingly coincidental series of events yield another position as a model, or maybe even something more benevolent, like a popular charity worker or volunteer who becomes so enamored with his position of power and admiration that it destroys him? We shall see.
The sixth, Lust. I can only surmise that once the fall from grace at the volunteer job takes place that I will have to resort to internet sex shows or public acts of depravity to make ends meat, no pun intended.
The seventh and final, Envy, shall be when I am no longer a marketable human being, devoid of hope for the future, and who spends every waking hour remembering what it used to be like to have hope and skill, and yearning for the days when potential reigned. Jobless and destitute at an early age, the only path left to take is one of jealousy.
Armed with this knowledge, let's try to stop the cycle, shall we James?