I have been working for a well-known, nationwide tax company (yes, that one). This is my second tax season with them. The pay is terrible -- minimum wage -- but I am not working there for the money. I am working there to increase my knowledge of individual income taxes and for the pleasure of doing something productive.
I like working with the clients, meeting the people, helping them to solve tax problems and to minimize their taxes and take advantage of deductions and credits that may be available to them. However, this week I was hired for the busy season by another CPA, a good friend with whom I worked as a corporate consultant for several years (making a bundle in the process). I will be working out of town on weekdays, but working at the tax agency on weekends. I will be quite busy through April of this year, and making some decent (though not great) money for a change. My friend, the other CPA, without an income for many months due to the recession, bought an audit practice near San Francisco so he would have an income again. He asked me to work for him through the busy season, and I agreed. The pay is a lot better than at the tax agency.
I have been largely without work for three years, all the years of the Obama Administration. Now Obama didn't cause this horrible recession, but his party did -- and Obama has done everything possible to prolong and deepen the recession, whether intentional or not. For three years my only activities have been blogging and band practice. The band practice came to an end in August when I told the band leader that his singing was simply awful. (This, only after months of subtle hints and tactful suggestions on singing lessons.) He did not appreciate my honesty at finally saying what everyone else knew.
In any case, I have been depressed since Obama came to power. Now I know what old people in old folks' homes feel like, unproductive, unneeded, unchallenged, with no purpose in life and nothing but death to look forward to. I spent a lot of the day feeling sleepy and took marathon naps throughout the week. No energy, no ambition. For some time, I have wished that the dark angel would tap me on the shoulder and get me out of a useless existence. This isn't surprising. I read that the suicide rate in places like Greece is soaring since the economy there crashed.
This past week, though, my friend asked me to work for him and I have been very popular with clients at the tax agency. Suddenly I am busy, needed, productive, and challenged. My sleepiness has disappeared and my depression is 90% gone. I have energy and, holy mackerel, my libido isn't as dead as I thought. It too is showing signs of life. I wouldn't have thought this turn-around in my mental attitude was possible. Work does this for a man. Work is life, purpose and meaning. It is, for me anyway, the greatest cure for depression.