Ok, it’s time to get
I’m a hopelessly boring excuse of a human being.
I don’t smoke. I don’t do drugs. I rarely drink, and never enough to fall face first in the gutter and have friends dutifully documenting it on Facebook. I eat when I’m hungry. I sleep when I’m tired. I don’t particularly like chocolate, deep fried anything, soap operas or swimming with sharks. I don’t drive too fast, I don’t text when I walk.
But wait, it gets worse.
I occasionally go to my neighbourhood gym, where I do my boring little half hour run, then rush back to my boring little flat for a boring night in. I sometimes take the stairs. I sometimes take vitamins. I pretty much always wear sunscreen.
I’m so boring you’d think I’ll live a long, uneventfully pitiful little life in my corner, until one day, when everybody’s already long forgotten about me, I’ll suddenly dissolve into nothing.
In fact, it seems I’ll die a painful untimely death.
Why, you ask?
Because I’m a web developer.
I know, I know, it’s come as quite a shock to me too, but according to this book I’m reading, my job will end up killing me. And soon. It figures, you know, everything was so perfect and all, I had absolutely nothing, nothing to complain about, it was time I found out I’d invested so many years, money and once alive brain cells in becoming my very own Grim Reaper.
Long story short, although my job will very likely kill me before my time, there are measures I can take to, I suppose, prolong the suffering.
For those of you who have grown to almost like me and would not utterly hate it if I stuck around for a little while longer, I have bad news. These measures are impossible, therefore I’m positively doomed.
But don’t take my word for it, judge for yourselves:
Things I should do to survive my killer job
(but which I won’t in a million years do because they are crazy)
1. Get a desk which allows for at least 3 working positions
Let me explain. What this means is that I should use a desk I could easily transform from a sitting desk to a standing one. I know it says three working positions, and sitting and standing only add up to two, but I guess they touch on the third possible position only in the second half of the book, which I haven’t read yet. That doesn’t stop me from trying to guess what that third position might be. Levitating? Swimming? Hands up in the air like you just don’t care?
Now, I don’t know about you, but most places I’ve worked didn’t provide me with an infinite array of high tech, programmable height and temperature, star sign compatible, Swarovski crystal coated desks I could pick from. If I’m lucky, I get a wobbly, sticky little table everybody bumps into on their way to the loo, and the only position it accommodates is an unfortunate compromise between trying to shrink out of everybody’s way and crouching away from the freezing air conditioning coming from exactly above my head. Turning my desk into a standing one at this point would pretty much involve bricks, nails, a chainsaw, and a fair amount of DIY work that would probably leave me missing at least a couple of fingers, if not an arm.
I’d say chainsaws are somewhat frowned upon in my office.
2. Change your working position every 20 minutes
Okay… Let’s pretend for a moment that I’ve got this super duper transformers style desk I can use both sitting, standing and levitating. At the rate my brain cells are dying these days, I’d have to set up an alarm on my phone to remind me, every 20 minutes, to turn my sitting/standing/levitating mode on. Ignoring the fact that I’d get interrupted three times an hour, within half a day I’m sure someone in the office would throw a computer screen at my head, annoyed by my phone buzzing every 20 minutes and my crazy dancing moves as I change positions.
3. Eat 1,200 healthy calories, drink 2 litres of water and walk 10,000 steps a day
I am doomed.
Health-wise, my approach has, throughout the years, evolved as follows:
Early childhood: No idea death even exists so I shouldn’t worry about it.
Teenage years: I’m way to cool/drunk to die so I shouldn’t worry about it.
Early twenties: I’m way too young to die so I shouldn’t worry about it.
Present time: I worry about it. I’ll try anything if it means I won’t die before everybody else I know.
So I find myself, 20 something years into this living thing, looking up standing desks online. For my home office, that is. I can’t help it if my office office and everybody in it secretly plot to kill me, but the least I can do is strive for safety at home. I haven’t picked one yet, mainly because I think I find comfort in knowing that right now, the most dangerous thing in my life is this stupid desk. As soon as I’ve replaced it, I’m sure I’ll discover a million other things to be afraid of, and some might not be as easily fixed as clicking an Amazon purchase button.
Yay for awesome adult life and all its perks!