The Video Game of Life

This one smart guy figures work's a video game he gets paid to play. He's onto something there. Noon rolls around and it's time to jaw with some other company drones on the computer. He's right—even Skyrim didn't have this much useless chatter. But he's missing the point.

See, work beats most of those big-budget games the kids are always yapping about. Every bit of it is already gamified and always has been—talking robots that never shut up, little tasks to keep you busy, ways to get better at stuff that take forever. You can put in more hours than most people sleep and nobody gives you grief. The wife and kids don't mind because you're bringing home the do re mi.

This fellow thinks he's being clever, but he's just scratching the surface. Work's the ultimate game, one you can't turn off. The graphics stink and there's no reset button, but it's got more levels than Disgaea’s designers ever dreamed of. You start out as some pimple-faced kid fetching coffee, and if you play it right you end up the big OP cheese telling other people to fetch your coffee.

The controls are tricky. You have to learn which buttons to push, when to mash them all at once and when to ease off. Some days you're stuck on a level that seems impossible to beat. Other times you breeze right through without breaking a sweat. The bosses pop up when you least expect them, like those jump-scares in a horror flick.

This game's got its own lingo too. KPIs, OKRs, synergy, circle back, loop around, activate, launch, imagineer—it's all gobbledygook designed to make simple stuff sound important. The veteran players toss these terms around like they mean something. Really it's just a way to show they've been playing longer than you.

The quests in this game are a mixed bag. Some are as dull as ditchwater—complete this spreadsheet, answer these emails. Others get your blood pumping—trick the big client into buying your crummy product, beat out the competition that’s peddling theirs. You never know which one's coming next. That's part of the thrill.

There's multiplayer too, but it isn't like those shooters where you're trying to blow the other guy's head off. In this game, you have to work with the other players to get anywhere. Even the over-socialized, passive-aggressive ones who drive you up the wall. Especially those ones. It's like herding cats sometimes, but when you pull it off it feels better than any high score.

The currency system's complicated. You start out with barely enough to keep yourself fed and the lights on. Play long enough and you might end up with more than you know what to do with. But you have to be careful—make the wrong move and it all comes crashing down faster than you can say "quantitative easing" and "economic downturn."

This game's got side quests too. Not-so-happy hour with the boys from accounting and the girls from marketing. The company softball league. That leadership seminar in an exotic locale such as Omaha or Des Moines. They don't seem connected to the main story, but skip too many and you might find yourself stuck on the same level forever.

The real kicker is, you can't ever truly win this game. There's always another goal, another milestone. Even when you think you've made it to the top, there's someone above you calling the shots. And just when you've figured out all the answers, they go and change the questions on you.

But it isn’t really about winning. It's about how you play the game. Some treat it like it's life or death, sweating every detail and losing sleep over their score. Others coast through, doing the bare minimum to keep from getting booted. The smart ones find a balance, giving it their all when it counts but knowing when to step back and smell the late mornings and long coffee breaks.

This game's got its share of glitches too. The server goes down right when you're in the middle of something important. Your progress doesn't save and you have to start a whole project over from scratch. Some days it feels like the game is rigged against you, like no matter what you do you can't get ahead.

But that's part of the challenge. Anyone can play when everything's going smoothly. It's how you handle the curveballs that separates the pros from the amateurs. The best players can turn a setback into an opportunity, find a way to come out on top even when the odds are stacked against them. Anyone can sell the dream, but only the real ones can live the nightmare.

The tutorial for this game is a joke. They call it school—"school’s cool if you’re a tool or a fool," my old man used to say—but it doesn't prepare you for half of what you'll face. Most of what you need to know, you have to learn on the fly. Trial and error is the name of the game. You'll screw up plenty, but if you're smart you'll learn from those mistakes.

The thing about this game is, you can't just rage quit when it gets tough. Well, you can, but then you're stuck playing a masocore game called "unemployment" that makes Dark Souls look like Bright Spirits. That one's got a NEET kind of permadeath and no continue screen, only a blue screen of death in mom’s basement. So you grin and bear it, push through the rough patches, and hope your luck turns around.

This game's got its own ecosystem too. You got worker bees, middle managers, executives. Each group's got its own rules and customs. Learning to navigate between them is an art form all its own. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person and you might find yourself demoted faster than you can say "redundancy."

The really wild part is, most people don't even realize they're playing. They go through the motions day after day, never stopping to think about the game they're in. But once you see it for what it is, everything changes. Suddenly all those boring meetings and pointless tasks take on new meaning. You start to understand the patterns, the strategies behind it all.

This game's got no pause button, no save points. It keeps going whether you're ready or not. You can't just put it down and come back to it later. Even when you're not actively playing, it's still running in the background until your temple-cum-tomb of a body’s no longer running in the foreground. And your score's always changing, for better or worse.

But here's the kicker—it's the only game in town. Unless you're born rich or win the lottery, you have to play. Might as well learn to enjoy it. Find the fun in the little things, the small victories. Because at the end of the day, we're all just noob or scrub-tier players in a big, crazy game called the work of a lifetime.