Web Site for the Official Student Newspaper of Normandale Community College in Bloomington, Minnesota Kimo’s job makes others look amazing Kimo Kuppe I think there comes a time in everyone’s life when their job, whatever it may be, takes a turn for the terrible and the act of working, as well as the very thought of working, awakens deep feelings of rage and rebellion. Now is one of those times for me. As stated in an old article of mine, I never really like my job, but I can usually tolerate a job to a point since most jobs get better or I just quit them and search for greener pastures. But before the search begins, first I must quit my job. Here’s a brief overview of my job at the moment. I recently hit my one-year anniversary at this job, which makes it the second longest job I’ve ever held. I work as a grunt at a local Animal Hospital and my job is almost so simple, light weight, and boring that I would have to make a conscious effort to screw it up. My duties are these: -Feed the dogs -Walk the dogs -Pick up the dog shit I didn’t step in -Pick up the dog shit in their cages -Do laundry -Clean the floor of their area with minimal effort since it will get dirty again within the hour Pretty easy stuff. It’s actually a step down from my previous job working as a chef’s assistant in Edina, only without the 40-year-old bisexual, bi-polar, drug-addicted, single parent of 3 cooking food. Also, the hospital pays me less. Sometimes I wonder why I ditched the old job, but then I remember the aforementioned chef as well as the surly customers crippled with bitterness that their vast fortunes could not buy them back their youth, or a decent plate of beef stew and the thought perishes. But at least I received a small amount of respect at my old job. Quite the opposite happens at the animal hospital. Everything I do there seems to enrage my supervisor. Now more than ever do I have to fight back the urge to unleash the nerd fury on her and burn those bridges to the ground. There is something almost romantic about telling your boss off and freeing yourself from the shackles of a horrible job. People love stories of liberation and acquittal, and there is a bent sense of satisfaction in sticking it to the man. It’s a special kind of anger, one that builds and builds inside of you like a polar bear trying to break out of a cage, waiting for just the right time to break out and dish out steaming dollops of what-for. It’s that burst of confidence and self-satisfaction, that second wind, that extra side of bacon at IHOP, the very essence of freedom. I could go on and on, but you get the idea. One of the greatest feelings you can get from a job is saying to yourself “I don’t have to work here, I can get a better job.” And knowing that it is indeed true. It’s a shame the paper doesn’t pay me, otherwise I’d just do this all the time, but then that’s why I’m going to college. I whole-heatedly encourage any of you out there who have a terrible job that just sucks the life out of you every day to get the hell out of there and join me in my search for greener pastures. It’s got to be out there somewhere. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be the greenest pasture, just anything better than what I’ve got now. And that pasture had damn well better not have dog shit in it. That stuff takes forever to clean out.