You wake up real early in the morning, and take a whiff of that fresh country air. Your house sits on thirteen acres of land. First thing you do is get in the UTV and drive over to the stables to feed the horses. The horses are glad to see you, as they neigh as if to say good morning. As you walk out of the stable, you careen over to see your cows are already grazing pasture. The cows are a backdrop to the woods that cover half your land, and you notice a deer stroll looking for food.
You go back to your house, and your wife has the breakfast ready. You are having the usual: fried eggs picked fresh from your very own hen house, thick slices of bread from the country baker in your town, unpasteurized milk from your own cows, and Folgers Coffee.
Your wife and children are at the table, and after saying grace, everyone indulges in the hearty breakfast. You look at the time, and it's already 7:15 AM. Your job starts at 8:00 AM. No worries, you think, the 20 mile trip to work will only take 20 minutes. After all, there is no traffic in the country, like in the big cities.
Your Ford F350 pulls into the drive way at exactly 7:50 AM. The sign at the door spells out the county's name. You have a great job at the county. Great benefits, annual cost of living adjustments, relaxed work environment, great like minded coworkers and figuratively no competition. Not like a job in the big city with a faceless megacorporation; ever diminishing benefits, performance-based raises, tense work environment, and constant fear of losing your job.
You start work at 8:30 AM, after your second cup of coffee and chit chatting with the coworkers. Around 9:00 AM, office wide email says that the pies are here. Once again, like for the past 6 years, this county office won the annual pie competition. The winning pies are all in the breakroom, ready to be devoured. As you chow down on the pies, conversation flows. Everyone is talking about the upcoming county elections. Some city slicker has moved in and he thinks he can beat the 20 year incumbent Sherrif. No sir, as everyone shakes their head in unison to indicate that no outsider is going to tell them what to do.
Then you go back to work, and spend the rest of the day just chit chatting, and having a good time.
That's life man
You go back to your house, and your wife has the breakfast ready. You are having the usual: fried eggs picked fresh from your very own hen house, thick slices of bread from the country baker in your town, unpasteurized milk from your own cows, and Folgers Coffee.
Your wife and children are at the table, and after saying grace, everyone indulges in the hearty breakfast. You look at the time, and it's already 7:15 AM. Your job starts at 8:00 AM. No worries, you think, the 20 mile trip to work will only take 20 minutes. After all, there is no traffic in the country, like in the big cities.
Your Ford F350 pulls into the drive way at exactly 7:50 AM. The sign at the door spells out the county's name. You have a great job at the county. Great benefits, annual cost of living adjustments, relaxed work environment, great like minded coworkers and figuratively no competition. Not like a job in the big city with a faceless megacorporation; ever diminishing benefits, performance-based raises, tense work environment, and constant fear of losing your job.
You start work at 8:30 AM, after your second cup of coffee and chit chatting with the coworkers. Around 9:00 AM, office wide email says that the pies are here. Once again, like for the past 6 years, this county office won the annual pie competition. The winning pies are all in the breakroom, ready to be devoured. As you chow down on the pies, conversation flows. Everyone is talking about the upcoming county elections. Some city slicker has moved in and he thinks he can beat the 20 year incumbent Sherrif. No sir, as everyone shakes their head in unison to indicate that no outsider is going to tell them what to do.
Then you go back to work, and spend the rest of the day just chit chatting, and having a good time.
That's life man
