Ever been in an office and someone mentions that it’s like prison, the way we’re all stuck here? Can’t go anyway. Have to do what we’re told. Sit in little cubes—prison cells—all day and can’t come out.
Once I made that comparison to this guy I knew, and he said, Nah. See, he was a former bank robber. Drugs and all that caused him to do some really bad things. So he did quite a bit of time in federal prisons. (They moved him around a lot, for some reason.) Nah, an office is nothing like prison. No one is trying to kill you. No one beats you up. You’re not surrounded by crazy people who have done crazy things and more than likely will do crazy things again if give half a chance.
It’s like actors saying they work hard. Nah, my father worked hard. He came home tired and dirty every night. Remembering lines and blocking isn’t work. Work is spending cold winters and hot summers on a loading dock.
Both the bank robber and my father are both dead, by the way. The bank robber died from complications from his days as a druggie. He died as clean and sober as a judge. My dad died of a heart attack. He was a smoker.
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