Sisyphus Incarnate: There Are No Gold Watches

There are no gold watches anymore. Sadly, we live in a different world now.

My generation, by and large, will not retire from a company after 40 years of service. That ended with the Boomers, along with company picnics and smoking at your desk.

Ours is a generation of professional nomads, forced to traverse the landscape as seasons change, following after food. Doing our best to weather the storm.

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve worked somewhere, or how much you know. Skill, passion and dedication mean nothing when contrasted with the bottom line.

Retirement is for our parents—it’s a myth.

I admit, I’m still easing back into the unemployed life. I’ll get used to it again, I always do.


Quite frankly, this is something one should never have to get used to.

I spend my life working, struggling, fighting my way up to the mountain top. Metaphorical, yes, but the incline is steep and rocky nonetheless.

Sometimes, I get close—I can see the top just ahead.

But the gravity of the world always somehow finds a way to pull me back down, a boulder rolling over me—crushing me.

Leaving me back at the bottom of the mountain, back to square one.

Wanting to reach the top all the more.


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