People Aren’t All They’re Cracked Up to Be

During my senior year in college, I made it a goal of mine to write a publishable book by the time I was a few years graduated–but that didn’t happen, not because I didn’t want to write that book, or because the book I was writing was bad (which it was), but rather, I wanted to put it off.  I didn’t want to become a hermit.  I didn’t want to be separated from people right away and resign myself to a life of that–of writing and writing and not interacting with people (I realized later I probably had a distorted view of what young, starving, professional authorship looked like).  I wanted to work with people–book writing would come later.

Granted, I was operating under the assumption that the first book I wrote would be publishable, much less a bestseller, and believed that if I wrote a book, that would be it.  I’d be done, set up for a life of authorship, shut away from co-workers and customers and whomever else I may end up working with later on down the road.  But honestly, now, I’m ready for the life I once thought being an author would be, of interacting with no one and making a life out of my reclusiveness.  Why?  Because people are kind of the worst.

Ask anyone in retail or anyone in the service industry or anyone who has to work with people ever and they’ll tell you the same thing.  I always imagined it was just people complaining, that people weren’t actually that bad, that the relative number of really just sucky people that could come through your work on any given day would be small in comparison to the good, but some days that just isn’t true.  Jerk people exist. Entitled people exist. People who believe the world is their oyster if they simply pull hard outward and crack it–they exist.  And they’re everywhere.

Don’t get me wrong, the great people make up for it.  They make the day better, they break  up the poor moods with rays of hope for humanity, but sometimes they are just absent.  Sometimes they’re no where to be found, and it’s on days like this that I write blog posts about how much I dislike people.  It’s on days like this that I wish I were one of those guys climbing radio towers in the mountains, high above everyone, interacting with no one.

I’m scared of heights–like, deathly afraid–but I think I could make that life work.


One thought on “People Aren’t All They’re Cracked Up to Be

  1. Pingback: I Quit My Job – The Harbored and Homesick

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