“You,” I hear people tell me, “have a cool job.”
I can’t deny it, though my natural second-hand-Catholic-guilt training made it hard to accept for a long time. But despite the feeling that I should apologize for it for some reason there’s no refuting the fact that my job is rad.
It isn’t changing the world, I’m not making historically lasting impressions on the fabric of my country’s history, but I’m also not selling poison or justifying financial ruin of others for my own personal enrichment. And I like the place I work at, the people I work with, and mostly enjoy going everyday. So I feel like I’m ahead of the game.
But. (There’s always a but). But, for those of you about to kill yourselves with jealousy I gotta say it is still a capital-jay Job. For every sweet new game I get to play before the general public even knows it exists there are about 1500 e-mails I have to write to poke, prod, cajole, beg, demand, and inform. I have to fill out paperwork, make phone calls, and other office-y type busywork that fills up countless hours that I feel I don’t have to spare.
I know, I know: Wah, wah, wah. Poor me. But let it just stand, on record, that cool or not, sometimes the strategy guide world is work.