Monotany or Insanity?

I wake up every morning with the radio blaring. Laughter can be heard by two morning radio shock jocks, Lex and Terry. I'm a terrible morning person, so I prepare a fresh pot of coffee. While it's brewing, I shower and put on a fresh outfit to begin the day. I pour a cup of coffee, walk outside, and smoke my day's first cigarette. I walk back inside and make sure the thermostat is set at a reasonably warm temperature to avoid a high power bill. Finally, I pick up my keys and begin my short drive to work.

I turn on the Lex and Terry show in my car while driving. There are some hysterical moments that have me laughing out loud. For example, the two DJs send one of their phone screeners out to play what they call "The Paging Game." A name is given and this person must have the name called out over an intercom at some store location -- i.e. Wal Mart. The name usually has a genitalia-based pronounciation in it like "Mia Cochran." Their screener is on a bluetooth and has the names called out to him. It's well played out, since he says he's there to pick up some seniors and return them to their nursing home.

Once I arrive at work, I have the liberty to continue listening to the show; something I couldn't do in an office environment. My tasks each day are mindless and only requires physical exertion. Throughout my day, my introspective nature comes out. I begin pondering over what's going on in the world, interpreting a lucid dream I had the night before, and humming along to a catchy tune I recently heard.

Our two delivery drivers arrive an hour later. This is the hectic portion of my day. I walk around our warehouse, climbing a ladder to reach from time to time heavy boxes filled with large bolts, and gathering all these boxes to pour in our bins. After approximately one hour, I can expect to hear Lynn's (receiving manager) squeaky, high-pitched voice fill the air. "Ron (warehouse manager), do you have that order ready for Gill?" He approaches her and assures her he does.

When I'm feeling a little giddy and goofy, I might impersonate someone's voice. This is my regressive child-like self coming out. "Kennedy," I yell with a gruff inflection. "Kennedy," I repeat with the tone lowered a few decibels. This impersonation is one of Mr. Kennedy, a wrestler for the WWE when I used to watch it (about six months ago). Shorty, my diminutive colleague and Ron, get some laughs from it. Also, while we pour the fasteners into the bins, we talk about what's going on in the news or latest sports results.

After my break is over at 10 a.m., I walk back to my work station. By this time, I'm usually worn out hearing people call The Lex and Terry show for relationship advice. So, I pop a CD into my CD player and watch the short-circuiting boom box with suspenseful ire. Nothing. Damn it. I have to resort to listening to the only thing that's halfway decent even though it's ad nauseum when they don't do any bits.

Lunch is short, since I spend time reading some of my favorite blogs, latest news from CNN, etc. I return to work, and everything basically plays out the same. This pattern occurs each and every day. I find that I'm not the only one who wakes up each day and experiences routineness. Once you're in a job for awhile, tasks become repetitious. Sure, there might be something new that pops up: new account, software applications, different operating procedures, etc. Luckily, I'm not one of those Americans who dislikes his job. I'm grateful that I receive decent pay and great benefits. There are too many out there right now who yearn for another shot to have these blessings.

This is why I often mock our society. We're drones who work to consume what our pleasures desire. One of my favorite films is Groundhog Day, starring Bill Murray. I feel like him most days and literally will interject someone who is talking to finish their thoughts. It's like I'm participating in the same script over and over. I know the plot and how it concludes.