“I feel as if I’m wasted. And I’m wastin’ every day” - Happy Ending, Mika

I promised myself this year was going to be different. I promised I wouldn’t complain as much, wouldn’t feel sorry for myself, wouldn’t bitch and moan about everything that was wrong. I promised I wasn’t going to waste another minute focusing on how painful and intolerable my 9 to 5 had become. But sometimes you just need to vent. I realize it doesn’t make the model of a happy, positive, enlightened, fully self-actualized individual. I’m ok with that. As much as I want to be all peace, love and happiness…it’s not always who I am. Sometimes you just need to own how you’re feeling in the moment — even if it isn’t very inspiring. So I will indulge myself for this moment in time and rage against the machine for a little while.

A phrase I’ve heard far too often: Get on board.

That’s especially frightening considering it feels like I have a ticket on the Titanic. This trip was billed as a luxury cruise…all full of vast potential and the promise of exciting things ahead. But it’s nothing more than a sinking ship. The only difference is I can see the iceberg. It’s enormous, and it’s staring me right in the face. I see the ship headed straight for it, and I know there’s little hope of avoiding the impending crash. I know the ship is on a collision course with disaster, and no one wants to hear it. They only want to make sure I’m on board when the ship goes down.

There are days I can’t hide the grimace from the bad taste in my mouth and my boss will inevitably say, “We’ll get through it.” He means well. I know it’s supposed to be oddly reassuring like, “everything happens for a reason” and “what doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger.” But it never has the right effect on me.

Of course, we’ll get through it. Some people like to make dramatic statements like, “I’ll never survive this.” The truth is, it’s startling how much a human being can really survive. You can endure a lot, and I’ve survived way too much. The problem is, I don’t want to just survive. I want to live. I want to feel passionate, fulfilled, motivated. I don’t want to just limp through day after painful day. I want to wake up and feel excited about the day’s possibilities. Some people think that’s naive and impractical. They think work isn’t about passion. It’s a paycheck…just a means to an end. I’m not one of those people. I’m greedy I guess. And I want it all. I want to feel like what I do matters, and I want it to matter to me. Whatever that makes me — silly, selfish, idealistic, unrealistic — I can live with it.

I was driving into work yesterday listening to my iPod. This amazing song by Mika (who is genius) started playing. It’s called Happy Ending. It’s hauntingly beautiful, and it made me think a lot (sadly) about how my job makes me feel these days.

This is the way you left me,
I’m not pretending.
No hope, no love, no glory,
No Happy Ending.

Some people are still waiting for the happy ending. But I no longer think it’s coming. Some people are waiting for it to all work itself. And, honestly, everything works itself out one way or another. But I no longer expect it to all play out according to my hopes or wishes. I’m not trying to be negative or pessimistic. Goodness knows I wish I could hop on the happy train and feel excited about the future. But the writing is on the wall.

Reality Check:
My first job out of college was at a high tech startup. To be honest, it was kind of a nightmare job. I slaved quite literally around the clock for very little pay. I poured insane amounts of blood, sweat and tears into each and every day. I gave way too much for way too little. But the other side of that truth is that I really loved it. I was young and passionate and idealistic. I felt like I was a part of something. I mattered. I was doing work I loved for something I believed in. And it was intoxicating. But, alas, I seem to have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time on a regular basis. And our dot com went to dot bomb when the tech bubble burst.

I was heartbroken. I vividly remember how rumors of layoffs were running rampant in the company. To squelch that naughty talk, our founders threw an ice cream party (not kidding) to let us all know our jobs were perfectly safe and we had nothing at all to fear. The very next day, we were summoned to an impromptu mandatory all staff meeting in the conference. What followed was a brutal mass elimination in which layoffs were mercilessly announced by reading names off a long list in alphabetical order. That experience taught me, when it comes to the corporate world, take a cue from Mulder and “Trust no one.”

As much as I want to believe, I know the truth is out there. And the truth is, I shouldn’t count on a happy ending.