The life of submission
Tell me what’s so great about the life of submission. What’s so great about a hundred thousand worries and a life of hurry? What’s so great about spending most of your life participating in activies that you’d rather not or trying to get back and forth between them? The teachers, your parents and other family members, most everyone who has ever given you “mature” advice has misled you. They not only misled you, they did it unknowingly and to your detriment. Because this is what they have been trained to do. When speaking to others, to gain acceptance, they must say what others find to be acceptable. Obviously. But also, they actually believe all the mumbo-jumbo about studying hard (being submissive), paying attention (being docile), being mature (internalizing all this nonsense), and building a resume (showing your enslavers that you really are a good boy or good girl). How do I know they lied? Well, the matter at hand is subjective. But, a life of submission is a life of submission. There is nothing subjective about that. When you put on a nametage, put on a uniform, dress appriorately, do what your told, sit at your desk, stand at your station, do what you were hired to do, you’re being submissive. You’re nothing but a slave. Maybe a happy one too. Throughout history, there have been happy slaves. Many of them. Because they didn’t know any better. And because if you know you’re going to be a slave your whole life, it’s easier on yourself if you just internalize your role and your place and you accept it. Slavery is slavery. Getting told what to wear, what to do, how to do it, and only handing you money or something else if you play along is slavery. Young conservatives and libertarians can talk about freedom all they want but when they go put on that Chick-Fil-a costume and tuck in that shirt and don’t forget the black belt and the name tag, they are nothing more than slaves. Part time at least. I mention Chick-Fil-A here because it is a fast food restaurant that many young people work at. It is renown among the people who have nothing to fill their lives with but talk about the quality of service at different fast food restaurants as a restaurant where the service quality is very good. Humiliatingly, all workers at this restaurant chain must reply with “my pleasure” when a customer says “thank you.” And politicians and libertarians and liberals and conservatives and every other statist has the audacity to talk about freedom? This is serfdom, plain and simple. And it’s sad. When I go to this restaurant, I can barely look the workers in the eye. Because it is sad. Despite the smiles, I know underneath, there is nothing but pain. From fear of a customers complaint, from fear of the wrath of a manager and the ensuing discipline. I know their pain. I know the humiliation. I know the feeling that you are and idiot and stupid when you do nothing but press on the pictures of the food on the ordering screens. I know the feeling of someone asking to “speak to your manager.” I know the feeling of having the nametag on your chest so that you do not even have the freedom to decide who knows your name. And also so customers can report unsubmissive workers to the boss. Bitch, go make your own food. But slavery is not limited to only the Chick-Fil-A plantation. It is everywhere and all around us. It exists in all workplaces. Among all workers and even among all bosses. Even the highly paid workers with their trips to all inclusive resorts that are infantile and babyish. With the forced fake niceness of the slaves of the second and third and first world. Every worker, by definition, is restricted and their freedom compromised. That is the nature of work. You do this by this time and you are rewarded according to this contract. Unless of course you are one of the low wage, low education, low wealth workers that is so easily swindled. In that case, you get fucked. But still, high pay won’t get you anything but more obligations. That nice car? Car payment, maintenance (both fees and time), insurance, taxes. Plus, those leather seats and big engine don’t mean much. If they mean anything, it’s that you’re gullible. So think twice about what that stupid teacher tells you. Do you really want to spend you life in the office, only dreaming about when your master lets you go home or steal a quick break? Do you really want to deal with the humiliation of showing up to an interview with Human resources people to show just how much of a good worker you will be? Human resources people are some of the most despicable people. Although sometimes, they do help the slaves out a little bit. However, only ever in ways that don’t hurt their employer too much. They are like the internal police. They are the ones that have internalized so much of the stupidity. Do you know that at a hotel I use to work at, the employee handbook had a rule that if a security guard walked into a restroom and found you on a cell phone, you would get in trouble? And then of course you would get written up and have to deal with human resources. Maybe a catastrophic event wouldn’t be so bad after all, if only it could be so damaging as to prevent civilization from ever coming back, but not damaging enough to wipe out all humanity. But anyways, to the person out there who this is written for, whoever you are, try to make your own way. Forget about the tyranny of the success/ failure dichotomy. It might be nearly impossible to avoid wage slavery, but you can often times choose to live simply enough to maintain some of your freedom. What little you can grab back from civilization.