So, I worked at this place, right? Data entry. Ain’t sayin’ data entry is, like, *bad* bad. Some people dig that kinda meticulous stuff. Just… not me. Wasn’t *bad*, per se. The peeps were chill, the pay was aight, the office was… well, it was an office. Beige walls, buzzin’ lights, ya know?
My days was spent pluggin’ numbers and codes into this system. Endless strings of ’em. Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.
At first, I tried to make it, like, fun. Timed myself, see how many entries I could bust out in an hour. Tried to find patterns in the data and whatnot. But after a while, even those little games got old, ya know what I’m sayin’?
The monotony, it like, seeped into everythin’. Lunch break became a countdown ’til quittin’ time. Weekends felt way too short ’cause Monday was always comin’ for ya, bringin’ five more days of clickety-clack.
I started havin’ these trippy daydreams. Like, I’d be inputtin’ data ’bout, say, fertilizer, and I’d be picturin’ myself on a pirate ship, haulin’ treasure, totally outta the blue.
I wasn’t, like, *unhappy* unhappy. Just…blah. Like a cog in a giant, beige machine, ya know? One day, I’m starin’ at the screen, numbers all blurry, and it just hits me. This ain’t it, chief. This ain’t how I wanna spend my life. Not even a little bit.
So, I put in my two weeks. No drama, no nothin’. My boss was cool with it. He even said I seemed a bit… out of it lately. I ain’t tell him ’bout the pirate daydreams tho.
I’m still figurin’ stuff out now. Kickin’ it, explorin’ other options, things that might actually, like, grab my attention. No regrets. Wasn’t a bad gig, just wasn’t the right gig for me. And that’s all good.
