Tommorow I have an interview for a job, which, if given, I will have the noble task of interupting families during their dinners, or on their way out their doors to try and sell them services from some of the largest corporations on earth. Such jobs are only taken, at least here in montreal, by three types of people: ignorants, maladroits, and anglophones. Belonging to the third catagory I, until now, hadn't much luck finding work elsewhere, so I was relieved at the prospect. But i'm still conflicted about taking this job. I hope it will just serve its transitionary purposes and I will find myself working somewhere more, shall we say, becoming, of my personal beliefs. Freud said that work gives the illusion of purpose. A statement which, in this case isn't true on the surface, but once underneath it couldn't be more true. It's exactly that, an ILLUSION.
At least Springsteen understands.
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