What is a job? I mean, what is a real job?
In the old days, you went to work when the sun came up and you left to head home when the sun came down. Your wife packed your lunch and your relationship with your kids was a cursory grunting in their general direction on your nightly trek between the garage and whichever piece of living room furniture housed your liquor bottles. You did this for 25 years until “the workplace injury” and then you did it another 10. Then you were finished working and lived off the disability checks along with the fading hope that, at some point each week, the kids were going to call to say hi.
And then you fucking died and that was the end of it.
But this new economy – this candy-assed world of running around all day, checking-in-from fast-food-restaurant-bathrooms-on-your-cellphone. This economy where you “work” from home and you commute back and forth between coffee shops and virtual conferences and spinning classes is utterly baffling! Sure, the 20th Century 9-to-5 thing that your dad did for a few decades was grueling, but at least you had a goddamn place to be at all times. There was a chair or a bit of floor space somewhere that your ass was meant to be in, and you made sure it was if you expected to eat and pay your bills that week. Note – there were way less man-boobs as well, as a working-age male you simply didn’t have the luxury of accumulating them.
The New York Times is out with the latest in their ongoing series on how Apple and Android are literally remaking our economy from the ground up. Their latest looks at the lifestyle and odds of success for app makers, which is apparently an actual career that exists – even if it’s a very sucky, sub-blue collar endeavor for 90% of those who attempt it.
So while the bad news is that hardly anyone makes money selling apps in the Apple store, the good news is that these bullshit jobs are poised to become way more plentiful! Thank the lord for silver linings, behold:
I’m not surprised that this sort of work doesn’t pay well. Sitting in a dark basement on a laptop shouldn’t pay as well as a career spent in Mr. Slate’s Rock Quarry, waiting all day for the quittin’ time whistle to sound and sliding down the back of a dinosaur and shit. That was real work. This iEconomy stuff is more like making art projects that a teacher never assigned.
But whatever, read it here: