writing to know, knowing thru being, being for writing... this is me, writing about the one thing i know, which is myself... and even that is sometimes a mystery...

Thursday, September 01, 2005

alienated by the nature of my work (the marxist experience)

so i just got back from the thrill and excitement of my first day at work.

perhaps it's sad to admit, but i've never worked (for money) before in my life! and today, i feel that i got the full marxian experience: alienation (searching for fulfillment in my work, only to find emptiness and disappointment, and ironically, a feeling of lack, rather than achievement of purpose), marginalization (my rights and the rights of my fellow workers were secondary to those of our patrons. indeed, i had someone actually say to me, as if this excuses everything, that i "was getting paid," and that he could therefore expect to have me do his every bidding... because i was getting paid, like that's some sort of compensation or something. sorry, but i work at the writing center out of the goodness of my heart. the pay, as minimal as it is, is just a small bonus), exploitation (obnoxious, disrespectful first year students using me to help them write their papers), etc.

anyway, i'm exhausted. and for the three and a half hours i put in on a NON-WORK DAY, for a full HOUR after the center technically closes, i only get $16.84.

yeah. apparently that's the value of my time and mental energy.

barely enough to buy food for one day on the high-priced miami campus.

"it's better to never get paid,
than to bank on shit and dismay."


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