Quit what you hate.

There are way too many people working at jobs that they hate. So many places you go you will be greeted by people who look as though they're on detention.

"Five o'clock? Why do I have to stay so long? Did I do something wrong?"

Quit!

We all have a thresh hold at a job we work that if passed, we should quit. Some people though, reach that thresh hold, then just put up with the job for countless years after. If you've thought about killing someone, quit that job. That's the limit. Not, 
"Oh, I'll quit this when I get something better." 
Nope. When you think of hitting an old woman with a car because she can't figure out which cookie to buy, time to pack it in. That should be asked at jobs.

"Hey, do you like it here?"

"Yeah, I like it."

"Yeah...you ever think about taking a Big Mac and pinging it off a kids head?"

"No! Of course not. I mean, why would I...yeah. You got me! I have. There's just so many kids! Crying 'where's Ronald? Where's Ronald?' Shut up, kid!"

"That's what I thought. Pack it up. We've liked you working here, but you're done. Run free, sir."

I've worked at jobs and had these thoughts. I worked at Starbucks for three years of my life. I joked with customers, sang. Sang! Had a great time! Near the end though, I couldn't stand it. Every time the door would open and a customer would walk in, I would be furious.

"God, what could you possibly want right now! Coffee? There's coffee everywhere! Get out of here!"

It got so bad, that I had a thoughts of taking a coffee urn, hurling it through the air towards the wall of mugs as hot coffee would rain down on customers waiting for drinks.

"Oh, god! The coffee I was waiting for is now falling from the sky! It burns when it's not in a cup! IT BURNS WHEN IT'S NOT IN A CUP!"

Right then I knew I had to get out of there. But I didn't quit then! I stayed for probably another five months. Five miserable months. Hated it everyday. The thoughts just kept coming.

"What if I put a grenade in the urn before I threw it? What if I could only make it blow people up who asked for a certain temperature for their drink? 'Can you make it the same temperature as a golf club that's been laying on Augusta?' BOOM!

There are tons of people that are angry at their job but continue to stay. Too many waitresses who are pissed that people come in, THEN pissed that the people she didn't want there in the first place didn't tip her well! 
"God, why didn't you guys tip me?"
"Are you serious? You audibly said to that other girl, 'if this table of people burst into flames right now it would make my day'." 
"Yah. And?"
Look, we get it, you hate your job. We've all had jobs we hate, but since we all know this, why do we take it out on each other?

"Can I have a sandwich?"

"Jesus man, give me a second."

"Why are you angry?"

"My boss sucks. I was supposed to have a break twenty minutes ago."

"Okay, so why not be mad at him? I didn't do anything to you."

"...you're right! Get your own sandwich. I'm going to punch him in the face...with a sandwich!"

One problem that people have with their job, is it's not the job they think they should have. Most believe they are better than their minimum pay job. Makes sense. We don't live in a "just enough" society. There are no songs in the club about making thirty thousand a year.

"Just made thirty grand, this fiscal year! Gonna hit the bar, and grab one beer! Yeah, I gotta car. It ain't got gas in it. Next weekend I'm going to a concert. Two-For-One tickets.""

No one wants to make thirty thousand dollars a year! And nobody thinks they should.

"What? I'm a baller though! How am I supposed to buy a bottle of Moet, pour it over the hood of my Ferrari while I'm driving with the top down, as Russian ass models are shaking in the passenger seat on a measly thirty thousand dollars a year? Huh? How!"

"I'm not sure. How are you supposed to clean the counter at this Arby's while you stand in here telling me tales about your Ferrari?"

"Counter cleaning my bag, man. I'm a baller!"

"Ball on your own time!"

People who really hate their job tend to think that everyone but the people they know are stupid beyond repair.

"Give me a shot, man. Dealt with a bunch of losers today."

"Rough day at the office?"

"Damn right. Everyone is an idiot. Not you, or anyone else I hang out with. But the other seven billion people? Just idiots, man."

"I hear you. I have six friends I love, therefore they are intelligent, but everyone else? Total dummy! Like this jerk over here. 'Can I get a beer'? What a piece of garbage."

"You said it, man. You said it."

We all need to understand that where we are is where we are. Of course we look to the future to have things to aim for. We should! To achieve the dreams that we want. But, don't be miserable on the journey. If you hate it, just quit! Quit! Make it the best quit ever! I worked at a Call Center for awhile (I've had some jobs), and I hated it! Every day, all day, hated it. It was a call center for a cellphone company, so people called to pay bills, scream about bills, and tell me they were going to blow someone up. I worked there five days a week, and I would call in sick four of the five days. Everyone that worked there just complained about the calls they would get during the day. Depressing is not even the word for it.

"This guy called and said this, he sai..."

"He said this?!"

"Well, there was more to the story but you cut me off."

"That's crazy! I had a customer that called me today, that said blah, blah, blah, I've really beaten my inner child and the happiness that I was going to have in this life time to death by working here, blah blah blah. Can you believe that I used to feel?"

I couldn't stand this place. So, one day, myself and a friend of mine decided to quit. The call center had Christmas lights all around the building. When they were red, it meant it was busy and calls would be non stop. Yellow meant you might have a bit of a break between calls, and green meant it was slow. My friend and I decided that we were going to hang up on people and see if we could make the light go from red to green. I hung up on probably four hundred people. That light didn't change at all! When I did take calls it was only to mess with people.

"I'd like to check my minutes."

"Check your minutes? What are you talking about? I'm at home with my wife!"

"...does your wife have any idea how many minutes I've used?"
"She better not!"

I transferred people to Spanish care just because! Spanish care was for anyone who spoke Spanish. Were the people I sent to Spanish care people who spoke Spanish? Absolutely not.

"Can I check my minutes?"

"Yep. I'll just transfer you to the minutes department."

"...¿Hola, cómo puedo yo ayudarle?

"What the hell?!"

I'd hang up and laugh for ten minutes. I tried to walk out mid way through the day, but they made me do an exiting interview on why I was leaving. The man doing it had to write down everything I said.

"Why are you leaving?"
"Because this place takes souls. It is Shang Tsung."
"...Okay. What would make you come back here?"
"If you guys bulldozed it, and made it into a McDonald’s."
"...come on, man. I have to write these down."
"Yep. Write that one in all caps."
Then myself and my friend left, walked in the rain eating frozen pizza pockets and went to see Friday Night Lights. Great day.


"But, I need money to live! I need this job, I can't quit. I need money!"
Yeah, we all need money. We also all need to not have dark, twisted hearts from doing things we hate to enjoy the things that we do. If you do something you hate to do for eighty percent of your time, that twenty percent of things you do like will suffer. We've all met people who hate everything because they aren't happy with their job.
"Wow, this sunset is gorgeous."
"Psssh, yeah. I guess. If you like the color orange. Personally? It lasts too long. And EVERYday?"


No job is worth being unhappy. None, not one. None.
"But I make eighty thousand dollars a day!"
"Are you happy when you're there?"
"...well, I think about running down school children in an old bus I fashioned an assault rifle to from time to time, but other than that, yeah. EIGHTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! A day!"
"Yeah, but you want to kill kids!"
"No, not all the time. Just forty five hours a week, nine to six, five times a week. That's it. There's tons of hours in a week! EIGHTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!"