Service industries

A few times over the past week or so I have had this euphoric, gaze into the soft light, Coors commercial-style epiphany that I'm finally getting somewhere with my job, as in, I'm one of them, one of the ones on the fast track, a young media savant. (I think it's because I had a moment of public recognition last week, which coincided with the launch of a project I've been working hard on and which is coming nicely to fruition. And the nicely to fruition part is very true.) It was a fleeting thing, but enough that I described my job in great detail for my grandfather, for the first time ever, and even impressed myself.

Then I spent half the weekend anguishing over one stupid little work thing that I forgot to do and the eminent chaos and my deep personal failure, and it made me mad that I was giving it so much thought, and then I got mad because of being mad, and on and on, essentially lasting all of Memorial Day, making me sort of paralyzed with resentment and never wanting to return to work again. And then I had a meeting this afternoon which was ripe with navel gazing, where I fell for the "since you are our resident expert..." bait and agreed to take on way more work that I can handle, and I have to ask: Is every job in America at root just a means of servicing someone's ego? Until it is eventually one's own?