The Plight of Urban Society

Before the sunrise, they awake. The hour is small, but smaller yet is their will. Their sustenance is the product of industry and greed. Wrenched from the hands of nature, and not milked for milk, but for money.

They groggily start their cars. On the road, and on the verge of sleep. None are competent, and none are forgiving of incompetence. They curse the traffic, fully aware that they are part of the problem, yet doing nothing about it. A seeming eternity passes.

They are now at their place of work. For hours they stay. They work. They work and work and work, and their blood boils. The successes are never acknowledged, while the failures cause immense distress.

Hours have passed. Now, a brief respite. One hour for lunch, but it seems like one second. Back to work. Deadlines. Things must be done swiftly but correctly. Hours more. Hours and hours and hours.

But now, finally, they can return home. Another commute. Another traffic jam. It seems that it will never end. But home they come, and they arrive at last. Home, only to be greeted with paperwork. Be it taxes, insurance – whatever it is, there is always something.

A figure is incorrect. They have to call a customer support number. They are put on hold. They are given no help at first. Only after speaking to one person after another, for hours upon hours, does anything productive happen.

Now they have to cook dinner. No matter what, some part of it will be overcooked, or undercooked. The sauce is too thin. The sauce is too thick. Something will always go wrong.

Finally, to bed. Six hours of sleep, and the cycle repeats.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s