Saturday, May 21, 2011

I Don't Care If I Never Probe Another Anus

I never thought I'd be this way, Gene. Burnt-out. Bitter. Just going through the motions... snatching hillbillies and plugging their whale-eyes without even caring whether I'm doing the job right anymore. A clock-watcher -- that's what I am now.

I don't want to make excuses, but the whole industry has collapsed around us. Being a Rectal Technician used to mean something. There was a level of professionalism, of dignity. People expected us to do our job efficiently and thoroughly, and they compensated us for it. Now they're sending out saucer crews packed with unpaid interns and kids who've barely graduated. No one cares whether they're following the sampling procedures. Just grab 'em and stab 'em so they can meet their quota at headquarters. And if something goes wrong -- if we hit too many subjects in the same area, and those Air Force guys start shutting us down again... do you think anyone back home is going to take some responsibility? Do you think that douchebag Ted will step up and say, "Yeah, I'm the one who told them they had to pop 56 backyard cherries a week or they'd be fired"? I don't think so.

Nobody probes anuses for the money. You do it out of love. You do it because you're passionate about scientific discovery. You get excited by the field work, because every time you go out on a mission you think, "Maybe today I will peer into an anus and see something that's never been discovered before."

I used to have that feeling, and these people took it away from me. That's the worst part. It's not the cash. It's that now when I look into the mirror, I see a guy who doesn't care about rectal probing. I don't even recognize that guy, Gene. And I don't like him.

I knew I'd be working with anuses. I just didn't think I'd be working with assholes.

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