There are often times in New York life when you will think to yourself: “Would I be making more money if I wasn’t making any money at all?” And, to be honest, sometimes it feels like you would be as the whole tax scene propels one–if she’s truly lucky–to pretty much break even (such is the curse of not being willing to squeeze any children out for the sake of write-offs). And, honestly, unless you’re making $100K a year in this town, every other pay grade feels like a penny a day.
Still, office workers are expected to smile through the pain of “opening” their paycheck (metaphorically speaking as nothing is tangible anymore) and seeing how pillaged it’s been by various “institutions” for “their own good” (what the fuck does anyone care about a retirement fund when NYC is all about living for the now?). Eventually, however, the smile becomes more like a look of constipation being that the suppression of shit is a lot like swallowing it.