Leech

Last week I got an email from my manager that was sent to everyone on our team simply stating people were taking very little time off and that only a certain number of hours would roll over to next year. It is imperative we plan on taking some vacation days since not everyone can take time off at the end of the year. Management is begging us to take vacation. I know this isn’t just my company, either. Many companies are encouraging their employees to take time off since the pandemic came into full motion.

I wouldn’t mind taking time off if there was something to do with that time off. What am I going to do in a middle of a pandemic? Watch Netflix and walk around the block? Time off just seems pointless. Then I have to deal with the mountain of work when I get back. I just wouldn’t be able to fully relax and take a couple of days and with my office now being set up in my kitchenette, it’s like I can never escape work. It’s just always there, in the corner of my studio, winking at me that I have loss runs to do next week, day cards that need to be entered, and a British woman named Sue blowing up my inbox about a fucking bordereaux.

Capitalism is now seeping into my home life and I’m getting too accustomed to having no separation between work and home. I feel as if my job is now part of me. Like a leech, it’s slowing sucking the life force from my body and I am in constant mental exhaustion. I miss the days of when leaving the office building actually meant something and home was a safe space. So when emails about vacation days not being used start coming into my inbox, it’s just another facet of Capitalism ruining good things.

Having a life outside of work was helpful in having fun, relaxing, and reminding yourself there is more to you than your job. Now? If I’m not working at home, I’m just at home not working. While my ankle is getting better, the uptick in COVID cases in my area has made it virtually impossible to do anything outside the house. Sometimes I drive but at a certain point that becomes another bore and my ankle is still not strong enough to take a walk in the park.

One of the worst parts is the boredom I feel about watching something online. I can’t read right now, I don’t have the capacity to do that. I feel like my writing is getting worse and there is little to nothing happening in my life right now that’s worthy of being written.

So I sit, twiddling my thumbs, awaiting for the next day to come so I have eight hours to occupy it. Late stage Capitalism is working the way it should—turning us into work horses, driving our mind and bodies into the ground for a small profit. We’re being bled dry of our labor, and we’re all too exhausted from the work day to yell about it.