Repent, Harlequin!

And no, this post has nothing to do with the torn bodices and rippling muscles on badly written romance books you mother used to surreptitiously read in the bathroom when you were 5. This refers to a Harlan Ellison short story that I listened to this morning. The story takes place in a society that had become so slavishly devoted to schedules that being late was a crime, punishable by the "tick-tock" man. The "tick-tock" man had the ability to shorten your life - late for a meeting by three minutes, you lose three minutes of life. The punishments went up exponentially with the amount of time you were late until he could stop your heart if you were too late or late too many times. Anyway, the Harlequin was a major annoyance. He purposely went about being late. If you want more details, read the story. It's short and worth the time.

Anyway, it did make me think a bit about our society. Yes, this story was an exaggeration, but by how much? I know at my workplace, people brag about how many hours they spend on the job until I wonder if they remember why they have a job in the first place. To me, a job is the means to an end. Oh I want to do a good job, but at the end of the day, I leave. I have no desire to spend one hour more than necessary at my job. Why does our country seem to glorify the workaholic? What's so glamorous about work becoming your life? Why would anyone in their right mind want that? For money? Sure, but at some point, if you aren't going to spend that money, enjoy yourself, what's the point? It becomes one gigantic game of monopoly - accumulate the most and win. But win what? What is the point? Maybe it's because I never had a job in an area of passion for me (though I personally see a danger in mixing your passion with your profession but as Jynx says, that's another Oprah). I don't know, but when I start living to go into work, you might as well shoot me.