Take this job and shove it; VBM's Nad's

Most every day I take stock of my work situation and thank my lucky stars that I do not have a traditional jobby job job like most of my contemporaries and darn near all of my ancestors.
I don't have anyone micromanaging me. I don't have the burden of a hierarchy that decides my fate. I can't get fired. Well, I have been fired by a patient here and there. But that didn't mean I couldn't come to work anymore and download porn on company time. I set my own schedule. I blow off a day here and there. Sometimes I am at work and I just stare out the window. If the phone rings and I don't feel like answering it, I let the voicemail get it. I don't get paid vacations or my health insurance paid for, but to me these freedoms are worth far more than the meager benefits most employers offer their workers. I am also blissfully unfettered by the sick culture of the workplace. Blessed be.
This evening I was hurtling my body at high speed through the m-a-l-l in a fruitless search for a cute and casual but flattering dress to wear to a wedding this weekend. (Do not go to the m-a-l-l. You know why? Because everything they have there is gross.) I even went into gah one of the Department Stores, where nobody ever helps me. Nobody helped me or even looked up at me. What they did do, however, was stand around and talk shit about somebody they work with. The sick culture of the workplace requires the following:
One or more scapegoats. These scapegoats may or may not deserve their scapegoatedness.
Several bitchy gossipers to place blame on the scapegoats.
A few managers. These people need to be clueless, mean, snotty, evil, lazy, largely absent, and managey.
The thing that really gets this whole package rolling, however, is the utter lack of perspective collectively shared by the entire group. This functions to make it so that the scapegoat who folds the shirts the wrong way or puts too much pepperoni on the pizza is vilified and a drama can ensue every single day. A major conflict can come about just because Jenny comes to her prep shift high once in awhile so she can cope, and Betsy doesn't steam the polyester muu-muus the way Jeanne would do it, oh my god. And can you believe it? Can you BELIEVE that she has been trained three times and she still does it wrong, this dress steaming? Because dress steaming is, at the end of the day, really, really important.
What a bunch of bullshit. I have had about eight million stupid jobs where mountains were made out of micromanaged molehills. No wonder people hate their jobs. Most of us can tolerate just about any kind of work for awhile. It's the other human beings at work that really make it hard. I had half a mind to walk up to those old biddies bitching about their absent co-worker and giving them a piece of my mind. But I didn't. I saved it for you.


In other news,
The VBM is after all, a man. And men can be hairy. Sometimes I tease the VBM about being a hairy monkey. I have told him that he might want to get some manscaping done.
Tonight, he arrived home from a big box store with red circles on it. He was filled with excitement. I said to him, VBM, why all the excitement?
He held out a box the size of a rubic's cube.
The box read: "Nad's Hair Removal System. As seen on TV!!!!".
VBM, I said, are you going to use that stuff?
The VBM smiled. You keep telling me I need some manscaping, he said.

I don't know quite what to make of this.