Having a job is integral to leisure. One’s time is immediately split into two categories, working and non. Work gives organization to a life that would otherwise be directionless.
If time is all one had, they would probably do nothing at all. No plan, no motivation. It’s hard to stay busy. Days blur into one. Each moment leads closer and closer to mediocrity.
With all true and immediate needs met, there’s not much left to be done. So many jobs are despised because they don’t make sense to do instinctually; they could never replace an actual struggle to survive. That’s not to say that hardship makes lives better, but that working to fulfill basic needs could.
It feels good when one’s existence is on the line to do something about it. But if we’re always nowhere near the line, life can feel unsatisfying. Leisure helps allow everybody to do something that makes them feel good.
But if one doesn’t like the work they’re doing, what’s the point in doing it at all? One could choke on a pen cap tomorrow. It might be best to clear the entire enterprise and start fresh today.
Microfiction
