Working at a place for a very long time is both a blessing and a curse at times. On the one hand, everybody loves “gainful” employment that allows them the flexibility to fuck off because they’ve been there for ages and they’ve earned the right. But on the other, there is the aura of slack it imbues one with–the inability to try harder because, well, why bother? You’re not going to get fired no matter what you do.
In this respect, staying in the same cubicle for decades rather feels like the man in the Italian caution sign looks–in a state of utter freefall. He can’t stop what’s happening anymore–he’s already too far down the stairs that represent the rabbithole of working. But he’s graceful about it, like he’s going to accept what occurs once his body hits the bottom pavement. Maybe he’ll survive, sure, yet even if he does, he’ll be lesser for it.