Everyone’s talking shite. I’m just breathing it in.

Nothing smells like collective delusion quite like a job advert.

I’m looking right now. Actually looking. And the reality is hitting me: I’m probably going to end up as a delivery driver. Not glamorous, not aspirational, but real work. The kind that pays the bills and reminds you that life isn’t about clever CVs or perfect LinkedIn profiles.

And yet, I can’t stop reading the adverts. You know the ones: three pages long, listing every skill, experience, and personality trait known to humankind, somehow requiring 20 years’ experience in a technology that’s only existed for five.

You read it and think: No one in the world could match this. Not even a fictional person, and certainly not one who isn’t lying about something.
And yet, there I am, applying for Chief Happiness Overlord, Senior Vice President of Synergy and Vibes, Director of Rainbow Alignment, Digital Wizard of Infinite Spreadsheets, Galactic Workflow Ninja, Head of Buzzword Compliance, and Quantum Liaison of Unnecessary Meeting

Then comes the application. That ritual of compromise where honesty is a liability.

“I’m great at everything, except when I’m not.”
“I thrive under pressure, except when I break down.”

I’ve been there. We all perform, we all exaggerate, we all tell tiny lies to get past the gatekeepers who are reading these adverts while checking their emails, and never once consider if any of this will actually make a difference.

And the daily grind? I’ve had it. I know it. You arrive, you perform, you smile, you answer emails that could’ve been texts, you attend meetings that could’ve been emails about emails, and you leave pretending you achieved something — mostly so your LinkedIn headline looks credible.

It’s all theatre. A performance where the audience is your manager, your peers, and occasionally yourself — hoping no one notices the slight stink of shite under your polished suit.

So yeah. I’m fucked. Probably going to spend my days in a van, delivering parcels, smelling exhaust instead of bullshit. But I’ll read the adverts anyway. Because the alternative is sitting still, doing nothing, and admitting that life sometimes smells exactly as bad as it looks.

— Tom Kite.