socialaj hundoj

A little while ago I read about working dogs. The ones enlisted to find people after disasters or sniff out illicit drugs. If one of these dogs doesn’t find what they’ve been trained to find, they exhibit signs of depression and/or frustration.

My job has been very slow of late. To the point that I’m watching Netflix at my desk, have Twitter in the background, and browsing the shithole known as reddit. The less work I have to keep myself occupied, the more I’m stuck with my own thoughts. Feelings of “Are they going to get rid of me?”

Knowing the horrendous 21st century working conditions at Amazon, and some other companies, I oughta be grateful that I’m paid an okay wage to do nothing. Yet in that lack of work, anxiety begins to boil over.

Reckon it’s the equivalent of what those working dogs feel when they don’t find that stoner with a baggie of weed, or someone buried in rubble.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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