Remember the term 9-to-5? Remember how it was shorthand for a job that took place between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Monday through Friday and not a minute longer? Remember when you liked that job and would carry the spirit of your workplace — the camaraderie, the respect, the satisfaction of working toward a common goal, a common good — from the office to the corner bar, where you and your co-workers would revel in one another’s company, celebrate your accomplishments and, sure, complain that your fat raise wasn’t fat enough but — what the hell? — you loved that job?Don't drink without checking out City Link's guide.
No? We don’t blame you. We can barely recall that time, ourselves. As our nation teeters on the brink of economic collapse — again — and the corporations that demand our fealty while they draw up the terms of our severance packages grow ever more profitable, we can, at least, fantasize about a return to the life described in the previous paragraph. We can convince ourselves that everything will turn around, that the financial maelstrom will recede, that we will no longer wake up in the middle of the night wondering how our chosen career paths turned into dead ends.
And if that doesn’t work, we can always drink.