Today's an anniversary for me. I've completed my 19th year at the same employer. Not that my employer is the same as it was 19 years ago (the wonders of mergers and acquisitions), but I haven't had to go looking for work in 19 years. On the downside, a job is really a form of slavery, when you get right down to it. The world would be a better place without jobs, where everyone worked but no one had a job. Of course, that would require a lot more independent thought on most people's behalf, and most people aren't capable or willing to engage in it. To a certain extent, I'm not, either. I've gotten up every morning and gone to a job for most of my life. Having "a job" was paramount in my mother's eyes. When I told her many years ago that Mary and I planned on getting married, she dismissed it with a single sentence: "You don't have a job!" She wanted so much for us, not the least of which was a "job". We were raised to believe that the most important thing in the world was having a job. Forget the notion of chasing one's rainbows, or "do what you love, the money will follow"; if you didn't have a job, you weren't shit. So, I carry on, making elaborate plans for my escape, knowing that the day will come when I'm told that I'm no longer needed at my current employer, promising myself that this will be the last employer that I will have. That's my anniversary gift to me.