Charles Bukowski didn't have to put up with this shit.

Bukowski claimed to be unemployable; but at least he was alcoholic.

I just don't like work. Well, I don't like jobs. I don't mind work, but find jobs almost universally dreadful and stupid. Naturally, with an attitude like that, I don't have career goals—so I remain in stupid jobs.

These jobs don't have to be stupid, but they are. I don't have a problem with humble work, hard work—that's not the problem. Maybe the problem is that most people are caught in the idea that a humble job ought to be stupid, and that disrespect and disregard for human dignity are to be the due of anyone lacking employment ambition.

Me, I know I have to work. I would just like to do a good job and be treated with respect. As they say in Ireland, that's me f*cked.