I am in NO MOOD today. Nope, no mood for pussyfooting around—and don’t be offended by my usage of that word, as its etymology is related to little kitty cat paws, which are adorable and sweet, just 👏 like 👏 me. [Cue sinister laughter]
There’s one thing I have had it with, and I’m about to get out a giant alpine horn and shout it all over France. It’s not COVID-19 (though that over-seasoned crotch nugget* can hump right off), and it’s not this chin hair that KEEPS GROWING BACK NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I PLUCK IT, and it’s (surprisingly) not Wendy from the Netflix series, Ozark.
The one thing I have had it with—that I’m going to make certain you have also had it with—is this archaic idea that the money’s too good to give up.
Oh, I’m vomiting! Vomiting all over some rich man’s shoes! This line of thinking absolutely MURDERS ME. Andyetandyetandyetandyet—you hear it all the time. And you’ve probably thought it yourself once or twice (or maybe every single night before you sleep while Dick Cheney blabbers on in the background of the TV as you realize you forgot to take your contacts out and WHAT IS THIS TORTURE THAT IS LIFE?).
The money’s too good to give up.
I’ll never make this kind of money doing something else.
I hit the jackpot with this salary / job / gig / business.
I’d be a fool to let it go.
AND SO PLEASE GIVE A DEAFENING ROUND OF APPLAUSE TO THE BOOB IN THE BACK OF YOUR MIND WHO’S POISONING ALL OF REALITY.
Because get this, fam! Get this! You ready for this? Are you ready? Here’s a big-ass helping of homemade truth stew:
You think you’re making good money now? Imagine how much money you’d make if you were doing something you actually LIKED.
I know! Crazy! Let that drop kick you right in the heart valve! I would underline that nine times if the internet let me. Imagine how much money you’d make if you were doing something you actually LIKED.
You made it this far doing nonsense you hate.
You made it this far slogging through it.
You made it this far doing things you don’t even want to be doing.
You made it this far with a forty-ton dumbbell on your back as you walk through the Egyptian desert barefoot with tons of itchy bug bites all over your legs. (My personal vision of hell.)
And so, yeah, you’re making good money.
But—imagine what you’d make if you actually cared.
*Insult courtesy of “The Ash Ambirge Insult Generator,” created by copywriter Justin Blackman, who I should probably marry. I’m not kidding: he really made an Ash Ambirge Insult Generator. Highly recommended for times when the customary “jackass” just won’t do.