Standing on the subway during my morning commute allows me time to think. When I am lucky enough to get a seat, I tend to zone out, but when I stand, I’m forced to pay attention so I don’t fall asleep – or just fall.
As I watched the other passengers sway with the monotonous movement of the train this morning, I began to wonder about their lives. How many of these nine-to-fivers are eager to start the workday that awaits them at the end of their commute? How many enjoy what they do? Conversely, how many are dreading getting off the train, knowing that they’re a twenty minute ride away from a long, grueling, or simply unfulfilling stint at their faux wood desks, bathed in fluorescent lighting with only weak coffee keeping them awake?
Yes, you've guessed it correctly - I'm in the latter group.
And I’ll bet my Swingline stapler and stash of Post-it Notes that I’m not alone here. I bet if I were to take a poll, I’d find that the majority would answer “fine” when asked how they expect their day will be. And they’d probably only answer “fine” because they were being polite to the suspected crazy girl asking them random questions at 7:45 a.m. on a Thursday.
Is that enough? Is “fine” what we all hoped for when we dreamed of how our adult jobs would be? I can only speak for myself (because, of course, I did not actually survey my fellow subway passengers this morning), but I think we all wanted something more than “fine” when we imagined how we’d spend a third of every day from our mid-twenties onward.
Maybe the dreary weather is getting to me, or maybe this particular Thursday is so depressing because I just don't want to spend eight hours of fine every day of my life. What's worse is that if it's fine at best, bad days are decidedly less than fine. I find this really sad.
So, the question is, what can we actually do about it? Will we even do anything, or will we continue to drag ourselves out of bed each morning, throw on the office-appropriate clothes and force ourselves into our morning routines each and every day until we die - or we save up enough money that we can retire comfortably.
It's a sad, sad state that so many talented people my age are dreaming of retiring. THIRTY years before we can realistically expect to do so.
As I watched the other passengers sway with the monotonous movement of the train this morning, I began to wonder about their lives. How many of these nine-to-fivers are eager to start the workday that awaits them at the end of their commute? How many enjoy what they do? Conversely, how many are dreading getting off the train, knowing that they’re a twenty minute ride away from a long, grueling, or simply unfulfilling stint at their faux wood desks, bathed in fluorescent lighting with only weak coffee keeping them awake?
Yes, you've guessed it correctly - I'm in the latter group.
And I’ll bet my Swingline stapler and stash of Post-it Notes that I’m not alone here. I bet if I were to take a poll, I’d find that the majority would answer “fine” when asked how they expect their day will be. And they’d probably only answer “fine” because they were being polite to the suspected crazy girl asking them random questions at 7:45 a.m. on a Thursday.
Is that enough? Is “fine” what we all hoped for when we dreamed of how our adult jobs would be? I can only speak for myself (because, of course, I did not actually survey my fellow subway passengers this morning), but I think we all wanted something more than “fine” when we imagined how we’d spend a third of every day from our mid-twenties onward.
Maybe the dreary weather is getting to me, or maybe this particular Thursday is so depressing because I just don't want to spend eight hours of fine every day of my life. What's worse is that if it's fine at best, bad days are decidedly less than fine. I find this really sad.
So, the question is, what can we actually do about it? Will we even do anything, or will we continue to drag ourselves out of bed each morning, throw on the office-appropriate clothes and force ourselves into our morning routines each and every day until we die - or we save up enough money that we can retire comfortably.
It's a sad, sad state that so many talented people my age are dreaming of retiring. THIRTY years before we can realistically expect to do so.
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