I remember when my wife got excited about taking a job at a butterfly sanctuary, because she’d get to work around butterflies. Then after a month she hated it, because the job was mostly cleaning up butterfly shit all day. Before that, she was ecstatic after getting hired at a co-op grocery store that sold only organic foods and local produce. But she got fed up after working the register and only ringing up the rich, entitled white folks who could afford such foods. A decade ago, I used to say that bartending was the best job in the world. A few years in though, I’d developed a crippling alcohol problem codependent on my erratic sleep schedule and balanced out with endless cups of coffee and other uppers and downers throughout the day- my own issues aside, the job is mostly maintaining the addictions of an assortment of alcoholics all day long and hoping a few of them at least have a funny meme to show me here and there. A good artist friend of mine just quit a job she’d hoped would be blissful- hand-painting decorative tiles to be sold in tourist boutiques. But the job just turned her into a robot and made her despise painting in her own time. Another friend is currently overjoyed about landing a new job at a chocolate factory. I’m sure I’ll soon hear all about how much elbow grease it takes to scrub chocolate out of a 10-gallon tempering machine every night.