On “Bullshit Jobs”

There’s a book out called Bullshit Jobs: A Theory.

Haven’t read it. Probably never will. I’m sure it’s a fascinating read, but I’ve got too much on my plate. Plus, I’m all too aware of this problem anyway.

The meaninglessness of our life’s purpose: to fight our way through traffic, to become a meaningless cog in a bullshit machine, to look at a shiny screen for 10 hours a day, to come home only to be burned out…this has been the story of my life.

It’s probably the story of YOUR life.

You, and me, have a bullshit job. Our lives revolve around something that has no purpose.

Why aren’t people rioting in the streets over this?

I guess we’ve bought into this neoliberal myth. Why have gods when we’ve got Elon Musk and Bill Gates? You are what your master says you are, and you are your job.

You are nothing if you don’t have a career.

So bow down…pay your bills, buy that house in the burbs, buy that Honda Civic, enjoy it while you can. There’s no time for pursuits of passion. Your boss needs you at work tomorrow.

To do what?

Well, my dear boy, somebody’s got to shred those papers!

So congratulations! Society brought you up only to become a glorified paper shredder for a rich fat cat on the top floor.

Unfortunately, we see few alternatives. Marxism has long been neutered into a toothless predator by the capitalist machine. This order, littered by “bullshit” jobs, is in no danger of being thwarted. Our identity, our notion of self, has been tied into our careers.

Work is the only meaning we know.

I’ll admit, I didn’t know much about David Graeber before this book. Despite his Occupy Wall Street-cred, he still seems like a kook academic with a smidgen of disdain for the working class. Nevertheless, I’m glad he brought this up.

It might be a worthwhile read.


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