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October 22, 2004 > Opinion > Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the Mondays

Sounds like somebody’s got a case of the Mondays

I have a dream of doing nothing. And I’m not the only one. Ask any group of Rice students about their favorite movies, and it won’t be long before Office Space comes up. The story of Peter Gibbons, a burned-out programmer struggling with a tedious job in a faceless corporation, is not just hilarious — it’s cathartic. It may be tough at first to see why this film resonates so strongly with college kids who have never worked a full-time job. We have all struggled against absurd bureaucracies and we have all wanted to pulverize a malfunctioning printer in an empty field, but there must be more to the film’s appeal. I am thinking more and more about this film as I shuffle through my senior year. I am still a student attending class and writing papers for grades, but I am also working my way into the ‘real world,’ a place without parental financial support and the pre-built social life of the residential colleges. I have been a student my entire life, but after a humid day this upcoming May, I won’t be. I still don’t know what I will be doing. But I’m hardly the only one facing pressure from within and without to make it good. When a coworker asks Peter what he would do if he had a million dollars, he replies without missing a beat, ‘Absolutely nothing.’ His job is a meaningless treadmill, and he is sick of working on weekends. He just wants to relax and fish. Peter finds happiness only after he is hypnotized into complete apathy about his job, his boss and even his girlfriend. At the end of the film, he gives up his respectable promotion to middle management, dons a hard hat and carries his lunch pail to a dead-end job at a construction site. For him, liberation. The lesson: You can only win the rat race by forfeiting. Some of the smartest and most motivated students I know — too many people to be an accident — fantasize about doing exactly that. At times, nothing sounds more appealing than painting walls or cashiering at a convenience store. Peter Gibbons found freedom, and we want it too. After a lifetime of expectations rained down on us by well-meaning parents and teachers, after staying up late nights to finish the never-ending train of papers and problem sets, after reaching the breaking point with job searches — or even figuring out what job to search for — sometimes it’s very tempting to just quit. When our intellect feels worked every waking hour, mundane routine becomes the only escape. I don’t know why we feel the need to crank up the speed on the treadmill, and I am not the first to complain that Rice students, myself included, take too many hours and join too many clubs. For some, it is parental pressure. For others, personal ambition. The reasons are more complex for many seniors. We are told to network and intern and write the perfect résumé, all with the implication that the only sure method for a successful life is to make ourselves into perfect candidates for the perfect profession. When every extracurricular and hobby is reflected back at us from our résumés, it is easy to forget that they are means and not ends. As much as hard work is a virtue, it comes at a cost. At the end of a busy day, all I really want to do is relax and spend time with my friends, not think about the future or anything else. Stepping back for personal contemplation is especially important for seniors, but the time is difficult to come by. But it’s not just about me and my dream of doing nothing, it’s about all of us. Peter Gibbons eventually learned that life — and happiness — is not defined by a job or by prestige, but by the simple relationships between people. And so must we. The first step is remembering that a career is a part of life and not the other way around. Peter’s solution is extreme, but taking a year off before heading up the career ladder or into graduate school is not giving up. The future is no excuse to cannibalize the present.

James Sulak is a Hanszen College senior and opinion editor.

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