Why makes you get up in the morning and go through the drudgery of something as mundane as work? That was the gist of the conversation I had with a friend this morning on the way to, surprise, surprise, work. With rows and rows of cars stretching before us, I pondered this for a while and came to the conclusion that I had no answer for him. And this scares the hell out of me.
It all started off with him complaining about his in-laws who are pushing 70 now but insist on running the family business single-handed without help from anyone including their own children. My friend is strongly adverse towards their, in his opinion, rigid and out-dated type of work ethics.
“How long do these people want to go on? What are they working towards? Aren’t they sick of working? Don’t they want to have a choice of not having to go to work?” he went on and on in this vein.
“I work so that I can have the choice of not going to work if I don’t feel like it,” he said nonchalantly while picking his nose.
In my mind a man-on-the-top-of-the-mountain kind of aura instantly surrounded the oddly-shaped head of said friend. If he started a religion, I would follow. This lasted a fraction of a second before I snapped out of awe-struck silence and regarded him as a scientist would a rare species of animal.