The Gilded Cage is real
I honestly don’t mind the squalor, though. All it takes is seeing your friend throw a hissy fit because the TiVo is full or because you didn’t use a coaster on her Danish coffee table to realize that the gilded cage is real and that once you’re in it, you’re ruined for life. And besides, living in this place means that I can not work for months at a time and I’ll be fine. I can’t overstate the calming and liberating effect this fact has upon my day-to-day work life. It means that when most people are all but fellating their supervisor in hopes of that 2 percent annual raise, I can say and do whatever I want without having to self-censure or compromise.