He said he was going to teach me a valuable lesson about productivity. He only learns things the hard way.
Tag Archives: work
A snake-like line has formed outside of a bee’s nest. A bee with muscles the size of acorns blocks the entrance with a towering golden scepter. Bees, exhausted from overwork, bumble about and trip over each other while jostling to join the line. Our busy Billy, also known as Worker 769, makes his appearance at the front.
“Worker 769, show me your pollen”, said the bulky bee.
“Uhhh the dog ate my pollen”, said Billy.
“You expect me to believe that? Come on, pal, we all know you were playing video games again instead of serving her majesty. You have no sense of responsibility. What purpose do you serve?” The bulky bee jabbed Billy with the scepter, pushing him out of the line.
Billy felt as if he had been stung and wanted to sting back, but he resisted.
“You know what? I don’t need this. I don’t need this colony. I’m going to start something of my own.”
He rubbed the dust off of his abdomen and prepared for take off. “And you’re lucky I don’t dump all of your precious honey into the nearby harbour as I leave. Humph!”
Billy buzzed away in search of greener pastures and better days.
Outside, last night’s snow covered half of the video game studio’s windows. Ice had consumed the window’s other half and left ornate paisley patterns on the glass. Inside, John, the manager of the studio, put on a sweater and stood up like a massive concrete pillar: no one was going to move him with words or deeds. “Fuzzy,” said John, “make sure your team finishes those trees today. I told you three weeks ago that they’re going in the first level. Come on now!”
John swung around on his left foot and started walking away, his flip flops clicking and clacking, before Fuzzy could reply. Fuzzy jumped out of his chair, high into the air and landed softer than a feather. His face was just visible above his computer monitor. “What happened to you, John? You used to be beautiful. All you care about now is making a profit!”
The other bears’ clicking, typing and munching of pizza ceased. If one had entered the studio at that moment and judged the environment solely based on sound, one could be forgiven for thinking it was a ghost town. The bears’ mouths dropped open in unison, and their heads — as if magnetically attracted to conflict — turned toward Fuzzy and John.
John tensed up, his left eye started to twitch and he shook before he swung around fast enough to drop his briefcase. A flood of papers consumed the floor. His eyes turned a fiery red. John managed to calm down enough to scoop up some of the crumpled documents, held them over his head and started shaking them. “I suppose you think these are going to pay themselves. “Maybe,” he said as he ran towards the roaring fireplace, “I should just burn them and put this place out of its misery.” John threw some of the papers in the fire and cackled as he watched them turn into a cinder. He reached to pick up more papers; instead, he picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels on the mantelpiece, and he took a swig.
Fuzzy stared straight ahead at John and had not flinched or blinked yet. Fuzzy’s eyes narrowed, his eyebrows became diagonal and his voice was unwavering, “And we haven’t been on a picnic for a year!”
John took another swig and threw the Jack into the fire. The flames leaped out further than normal, singeing the hairs of a stuffed animal in front of the fireplace. John paid the fire no attention, but his eyes mirrored the raging inferno next to him. All the bears except Fuzzy hid under their desks and covered their ears.
“I told you there’s not enough money in the piggy bank for you guys to go on picnics whenever you feel like it,” said John. “Johnny,” Fuzzy said, “I know you’re still the same old guy who used to play ball and eat ham sandwiches with us in the park. I know you.” John swung around again so he could be alone and stared at the ground. A hot tear fell down his cold cheek. He started to whimper but bit his lip and pivoted on his right foot to face Fuzzy.
John looked up at the bear, a smile started appearing on his face, and he said, “O—Ok, you guys can go for a picnic.” “Woohoo!”, the bears screamed with delight. Fuzzy gave John a pat on the back, and the two old friends defused their tense standoff with a shared smile.
The bears all ran out the front door. Some carried wicker baskets while others did cartwheels, danced, skipped and jumped through the thick snow. They kept doing this until they all fell face first into a snow bank. The delicate white powder covered their furry faces and snouts.
“Uh, are you guys ok?” asked John. “Yeah!” they all yelled together. And off they ran during a cold winter’s day to have their picnic. The cold did not bother them, for they were warm and fuzzy teddy bears.
It might seem like a dream job at first. “Yay! I’m in the video game industry because I work for a final boss,” you might think. “I’ll get to play video games all day,” you might expect. Wrong!
You will be making coffee runs for a hideous fire-breathing monster, also known as Bowser, who smells like burnt rubber. You won’t have to think about video games when you do that. You will make many sacrifices.
Yes, you will have marathon sessions that last all day and night, but you won’t playing any games. Instead, you’ll play the role of a pawn who does the boss’s bidding during those hours. You’ll probably find yourself fighting your favourite heroes because the boss says so.
Welcome to the “real world” of video games. Don’t let the boss chew you up and spit you out.
You play video games to have fun. But why do you put up with work in video games?
By work, I mean actions you do for a living or as household chores. By contrast, hobbies are something you do after work for fun. For most people, they may race or play sports as a hobby.
Lots of games let you race, shoot, fly and jump, but Animal Crossing somewhat blurs the line between hobbies and work. I mean you could work as landscaper by day. Then you could come home and relax as you pull weeds and plant flowers in that game.
I mean, one can pull weeds and plant flowers in life for relaxation. Or they could try one of the many other video games out there.
My friend got me thinking about Animal Crossing, so blame him. The other day he told me about his GameCube. Yes, he is a little behind the times. Anyway, he praised Animal Crossing and loved to plant and fish in that game.
I had to interrupt him.
“What’s so fun about that game?”
He paused, furrowed his brow, and gave me a quizzical stare.
Then he said, “You mean about doing work in video games? I don’t know why, but I love to fish and do errands in Animal Crossing.”
I’m still not satisfied with his answer.
Video Game Work: Three Silly Theories
So, I’ve come up with some silly reasons why gamers might like to do work in video games.
1. Work is always fun in a fantasy world. Just think of what you do in Animal Crossing. “Sure, Mr. anthropomorphic Cat with a corncob pipe, I’ll help take out your trash.”
2. People are so bored out of their minds that they’ll play anything. Hopscotch and solitaire aren’t cutting it anymore.
3. People like to run errands from their couch. I suppose a comfy couch with enough pillows to break an elephant’s fall is hard to resist.
A Revolution or Never-ending Work?
There is a spectre haunting all video games: it is work. Gamers of the world must decide tonight. We must lop off the head of work with an iron sickle or revel in digital chores.
Oh, wait, my virtual sink’s full, and I like my dishes sparkling clean. See you later.
Why is it so much fun to do work or chores in games?