I have to get this out. It’s been… I don’t even know how long, months maybe? Since I started this job, this… whole THING. It feels like I’m stealing. Like a common thief, honestly, every single time that direct deposit hits, which, don't get me wrong, it’s a good amount. MORE than good for around here, for what I actually DO. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? The DOING part. I remember getting the email, after like, three rounds of interviews and some really intense technical tests. They were SO impressed, the HR lady kept saying, "We haven't seen someone with your aptitude for problem-solving in a long time." And I was, what, 24 then? Just out of college, desperate to not have to move back in with my parents, which, news flash, I did anyway, but at least I had an excuse, right? A REALLY good paying job that was remote, so it just made sense to save money while I looked for my own place. Which is a whole OTHER saga, trying to find anything decent out here that isn't falling apart or a hundred years old. But I digress. So, I start this job. Software support for enterprise clients. Sounds fancy, right? Like I’m troubleshooting complex systems for Fortune 500 companies. And sometimes I am! Like, once a month, maybe? The rest of the time… the rest of the time I’m closing tickets for things like "printer won't print" or "forgot my password." The kind of stuff a half-awake intern could handle. And the company has this whole philosophy, this… 'asynchronous work' thing, where as long as you hit your metrics, you can do whatever you want. They don't track active time. They just want the tickets closed, the clients happy. And my tickets? They are CLOSED. Like, usually by noon. SOMETIMES even earlier if it’s a slow day. And what do I do with all that extra time? I garden. Yeah, you heard me. GARDEN. Like some retired lady with too much time on her hands and a subscription to Martha Stewart Living. I started with a few tomatoes, just to have something to do, you know? And then it was peppers. And then cucumbers. Now I’ve got, like, a whole PLOT of land out behind my parents' place, bursting with fresh produce. My mom thinks it's WONDERFUL, says I’ve found my calling. My dad just grunts, probably happy I’m not playing video games all day. But every single time I'm out there, hands in the dirt, the sun beating down, and I hear that little chime on my phone that means my paycheck just cleared… I just feel this RAGE. This white-hot anger at… I don’t even know who. At the system? At myself for taking advantage? At my parents for being so damn PROUD of my "hard work"? My girlfriend, Jess, she's amazing. She works two jobs, waitressing at the diner and picking up shifts at the hardware store just to make ends meet. And she comes home EXHAUSTED, smelling like stale fries and sawdust, and she sees me, sometimes still in my ‘work’ shirt, even though I haven’t touched a computer since lunch, pulling weeds. And she’ll say, "Wow, you really put in a full day, huh?" And I just… I can’t tell her. I CAN’T. How do you tell someone you love, someone who works her ASS off, that you spend half your day cultivating kale while making more money than she does working herself to the bone? It feels DISGUSTING. We were talking the other night, she was telling me about how she’s saving up for a down payment on a house, maybe something small in the next town over, and I just sat there, nodding, pretending like I was contributing. And I am, I guess, in a way. I’ve been able to pay off my student loans, help my parents out with a few bills. I even bought Jess this really nice necklace for her birthday, something she would never buy for herself. But it all feels… UNEARNED. Like I’m playing a trick on everyone. Like I’m not a real person with a real job, just some kind of elaborate performance artist whose medium is deceit. And the worst part is, I can’t stop. I MEAN, I COULD just… do more. Find more work, ask for more responsibilities. But they don’t WANT me to. Their whole thing is efficiency. And I AM efficient. I’m SO efficient, it’s practically a superpower. The most useless superpower ever conceived. I could ask for a different role, I guess, but then I might have to, like, actually WORK for 8 hours. And then what would happen to my tomatoes? My prize-winning zucchini? I know it sounds insane. I know it does. I’m sitting here, typing this out on my phone at 2 AM, when I should be asleep, because I have to get up in a few hours to… what? Answer three emails and then go check on my composting worms? It’s making me feel like a SHAM. Like my whole existence is a lie. Everyone around here thinks I’m this brilliant tech guy, making big city money, living the dream. And I AM living the dream, I guess, if your dream involves getting paid a ridiculous sum to watch squash grow. And I can’t talk to anyone about it. Who would even understand? My friends from high school are either still here, working dead-end jobs at the mill or the gas station, or they moved away and are actually, you know, ADULTING. So I'm just… stuck. Stuck in this ridiculous, well-compensated, morally bankrupt existence. And the anger just keeps boiling up, every single time I look at my hands and see the dirt under my fingernails, and I know exactly where that dirt came from, and it sure as hell wasn't from building databases or debugging code. It was from turning over soil, just like any good little thief.