What’s the Point of Working…*

*…if money were no object?

I don’t think there’s any point in working if money were out of the equation. If we all had abundant food and full-time entertainment, we wouldn’t need anything else. We wouldn’t have to work at all, we could fool around and have a ball, even.

Some say, if money were no object, we’d have a fuller life. That we’d do more of what we loved, of what made us happy. That we’d follow our passions.

But is it so?

There’d be no point in waking up to a blaring alarm, fighting an urge to snooze, or ignoring the top palate while brushing.

There’d be no point in rushing out of the house, or remembering you hadn’t locked the door after you’d walked down two flights of stairs.

There’d be no point in clocking in 2 minutes before the penalty time, or skipping lunch to write a poem, or staying late to discuss the ANUS that had fallen to an all-time low.

If money were not an object, there’d be no point at all in getting out of bed every day. There’d be no traffic, no blaring horns, and no headlights blinding you when you walk home after a long day at the office.

If not for want of money, we’d have no reason to listen to the boss lecturing, or tolerate water cooler gossip. There’d be no dinner dates with attractive sales reps or compulsive flirting with the blond receptionist.

If we didn’t get up, suck up and go to work, we’d be at home on our couch, nibbling on potato chips, thinking about making art, talking about zen, and adding weight to the planet.

No, we wouldn’t follow our dreams, we wouldn’t even dream.

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