Work is for the Weak

When you’re a kid you have all these dreams about what you wanna do and who you wanna be when you grow up. A 7 year old always wants to do some cool shit like be a fuckin pirate, an astronaut, a karate expert or a pop star. Unfortunately life has a way of slowly but surely molding you into a mindless automaton; doing something you never considered doing and being someone you never dreamed of being – just so that you can pay the bills.

When I was a kid my dream was to be like Matt Trakker out of an animated kid’s show called M.A.S.K. For those who never saw it (either being too young or having a fanny) M.A.S.K was about a multi-millionaire businessman who ran a successful corporation by day and went around with his buddies wearing super-powered masks and cruising around in kick-ass vehicles that transformed into other vehicles (a motorcycle that turns into a fuckin helicopter? Sign me up!) to defend the world from bad dudes by night. It also had an awesome theme song:

As I got older the urge to be a high tech vigilante died down and by the time I finished high school the only thing that interested me was making film and television. And while most of the responsibility falls on my shoulders as to why that hasn’t happened (yet!), society can suck up some of the blame as well. I mean after all, if I didn’t have all these bills to pay then I would be free to do as I damn well pleased wouldn’t I?

And let’s be frank, work sucks. If you aren’t doing what you love then really you’re just going through the motions. Society says that’s what’s expected of you so that’s what most people do, with a small percentage who don’t give a fuck living on the fringes (dole bludgers and crazy survivalist cunts who dwell in the hills eating roadkill and having secks with their good looking cousins) and the rest who were strong enough to go for the W and get paid handsomely for doing what they love. It’s not even work for those people, their worst days at “work” are better than the best days of someone who doesn’t give a fat toss about what someone else is paying them to spend a third of their day doing. They say only the strong survive, but that’s bullshit, even the most retarded weaklings amongst us generally keep on kicking.

Only the strong THRIVE.

Let’s have a closer look at this soul sucking exercise called having a job.


Applying for jobs is kind of like having sex with a fat ugly girl. You probably told a few lies to get there, you definitely gave up some of your dignity and now you realized that you shouldn’t have listened to your mates who told you to nail the bitch cos that’s what dudes are supposed to do. Or maybe you don’t realise and never will. Maybe you’ll be riding that fugly behemoth for the rest of your days, all the while hating that you’ve got your knob stuck in something that looks like Jabba the Hutt but never quite having the strength to pull out and go get some Princess Leia ass instead.


From the embellishments that you put on your CV to get your foot in the door, to the lies that you tell in the interview, going for a jobski is almost as soul crushing as doing the job itself. But you go through that dignity destroying process because a) society tells you that’s what a good citizen does (work) and b) the way society is inherently designed you require money to survive (unless you’re one of the aforementioned ‘survivalist’ dudes who’s eating ratburgers for dinner haha).

Imagine if you were 100% honest during job interviews. “Tell me about a time you had to deal with a difficult customer and how did you handle it?” “Well I do recall a situation where I sold a mate of mine half an ounce of weed and he rang me up complaining that the quality was up to shit. So I told the cunt that if he didn’t like it he could buy off the junkies down the road who ripped him off last time and he was back the next day to buy more off me”. “What would you say are the three things you are strongest at?” “Well I can suck down a lot of bong hits before it fazes me, like seriously you’d be in a coma if you had as many cones as I do on a Saturday night. I can also eat pussy like I’m a German Shepherd wearing scuba gear and I’m pretty darn good at pirating shit off the Internet, especially hard to find Eskimo midget porno.”




If you thought that applying for a job was soul devouring than that’s just an appetiser compared to the main course of fecal matter you’re about to feast upon. At least in a job interview you only have to wear a mask to disguise who you really are for an hour tops. Once you bullshit your way into that job, you’re expected to keep that mask on for the rest of your time there, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 48 weeks a fuckin year.

Everyone acts slightly different depending on the situation, different faces for different places. But a work situation is probably the most far removed from your essential self, especially if you work in an office environment. You are expected to bury who you really are in order to fit in with all the other sheep. The minute you start showing aspects of your personality that aren’t in line with how you’re expected to act in an office and you’ll be handing in your door pass and cleaning out your drawers very shortly after.

Personally, I find it very hard to keep up this façade. I manage it for a little while but soon enough my guard comes down, the inappropriate jokes begin to fly, I start coming in late to work and find myself against better judgment telling the new trainee that I reckon she’s looser than a sloppy bucket of custard (on her first day mind you, props to Ainslie for being a good sport).

Subsequently I’ve got the chop from a bunch of jobs. And never because of performance issues, I could do them shits with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back while I’m getting cornholed by two dudes in the basement of an antique shop. It’s always because I did or said something that didn’t fit in with some asshole’s ideal of what is acceptable workplace behaviour.

At this point in my life I’ve finally come to the realisation that I’m just not cut out for wearing a mask for a third of my day. That I’m way too awesome to pretend to be someone else. That life is too damn short to be wasting it punching keys on my computer to make money for some other motherfucker. That I hate doing what I consider to be work, so I’m gonna have to make a concerted effort to be the person I dreamed to be when I finished high school and start writing some fucked up shit to blow some geezers mind when they turn on their TV.

Most people are embarrassed when they get the arse from a job. I wear my sackings like a badge of honour, like merit badges on a boy scouts uniform. Recently I managed to lose a job within 4 days of being hired, being told simply that they didn’t think I was “the right fit” for the role. While personally I think there should be some sort of fuckin prize for managing to get shitcanned in less then a week of being hired (a new personal record!), I have to give it to them – I’m not at all the right fit for their shitty job.

I’m much better than that and so are you.



If you hate your job, love the movie Office Space and are picking up what I’m putting down then now is the time to make a change in your life. Now is the time to get back to that idealistic teenager who wanted to be somebody before the world slyly positioned you into being somewhere you never wanted to be.

I won’t lie to you, it’s gonna be fucking hard. You’re gonna have to come home and work after 8 hours of being at work. You’re gonna have to sacrifice some shit; watching TV, jacking (or jilling) off, going out with your mates on the weekend and getting off your balls (or flaps), whatever it takes. For anything worthwhile there’s gonna be an opportunity cost you’ll have to pay.

But that price will never be as high as sacrificing your life to do something you don’t care about, kissing people’s asses you don’t like and enduring the suicidal thoughts that only occupy your mind when the alarm clock goes off at 7am in the morning. You don’t want to look back at your life and say “well shit, those last 50 years really sucked harder than a she-male hooker on her fifth bout of collagen injections” do you?

The bad news is time flies. The good news is, you’re the pilot. Start flying your plane towards your dream job now before it’s too late.

Work is for the weak, only the strong thrive.

6 thoughts on “Work is for the Weak

  1. I was suggested this web site by my cousin. I’m not positive whether or not this submit is written by means of him as
    no one else understand such certain about my difficulty. You’re incredible!

    • Hey there – Thanks very much for the kind words. I really appreciated this comment simply for the fact that I can tell you are from another country where English isnt your first language.

      So despite the fact what I wrote isnt even in your language, it still resonated with you enough that you felt like I understood what you are going through. That’s pretty fuckin cool if you ask me.

      Always remember – if you find your own truth it will lead you to the things you love.

  2. We’re on the same level I swear man, I’m glad someone else feels the same in this shitty world. Pretty proud that I got fired from my job for drinking in the break room like a fucking boss. I hope you’re writing screenplays and eventually get a pilot cause your dialogue is some of the funniest shit I have read in a good while. I laugh out loud literally when I read your shit. Grade A. Good luck in all you do.

    • Thanks for the kind words Darren, you sound like a right geezah! It’s not easy to be who you want to be in this life mate, but if we give up on our hopes and our dreams then at some point we stop feeling the very things that remind us why we are alive.

      One day I’ll wake up and everything will be how I always wanted it to be, I wish the same for you brother.

      You take it sleazy now yeah?

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