You ever notice how some people just float through life, riding on a wave of mediocrity like it’s the best cruise they’ve ever been on? You know the type—slouching behind a desk, getting paid by the hour to do nothing more than breathe, while everyone else is out there hustling like it’s the goddamn Olympics. Yeah, those are the same people who complain when they’re asked to do anything remotely resembling work. "Oh, it's not in my job description," they’ll say. Well, no shit, Sherlock! Neither is sitting on your ass, but you’ve managed to make a career out of it, haven’t you?
So, let’s talk about the entrepreneur, the guy—or gal, let’s not be sexist—who’s out there trying to make something of themselves. They’re the ones burning the midnight oil, cooking up ideas, tweaking, testing, turning failure into success like it’s some kind of alchemical process. They’re the people who see the world not as it is, but as it could be. And that’s where our story begins—a tale of two worlds colliding in the most unexpected of places: the local government office.
Now, the entrepreneur in this story—we’ll call him Mike—he’s just launched his latest venture, something about using AI to automate customer service, because, let’s face it, the current system’s more broken than a politician’s promise. Mike’s pumped, he’s got everything in place, all he needs is a little paperwork, a couple of signatures, and he’s off to the races. But first, he has to make a pit stop at the Department of Licensing—a place where dreams go to die and paperwork goes to gather dust.
So Mike walks in, all chipper and full of energy, like a kid on Christmas morning. He’s ready to take on the world, or at least the next clerk he sees. But instead of a bustling hive of activity, he finds himself in a room that’s quieter than a library at midnight. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead like they’re trying to lull you into a coma. There’s a single line, leading to a single desk, behind which sits the laziest human being Mike has ever seen.
This guy—let’s call him Jerry—he’s slumped over his desk like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though all he’s lifting is a pencil. And you can just tell Jerry’s one of those guys who’s perfected the art of doing nothing. He’s got that vacant stare, the kind that suggests his brain checked out years ago and left his body to fend for itself. There’s a nameplate on his desk that reads, “Customer Service Representative.” But let’s be honest, Jerry hasn’t represented a damn thing in years.
Mike walks up to the desk, and before he can even open his mouth, Jerry’s already in defense mode. “Take a number,” he grumbles, like he’s guarding the gates of heaven.
But there’s no one else in the damn room! Mike looks around, half expecting to see a hidden camera somewhere, maybe Ashton Kutcher jumping out to tell him he’s been Punk’d. But no, this is real life, and in real life, bureaucracy doesn’t give a flying fuck about your hopes and dreams.
“I’m the only one here,” Mike says, as politely as he can manage.
Jerry doesn’t look up. “Take. A. Number.”
So Mike takes a number—he’s Number 1, of course. Jerry waits a full minute, probably just to prove a point, before calling out, “Number 1.” Mike steps forward, like it’s a game show, except there’s no prize at the end, just more paperwork.
“I need to file these forms,” Mike says, sliding a neat stack of documents across the desk.
Jerry glances at the papers, then back at Mike, then back at the papers, like he’s just been asked to solve a quantum physics equation. “What’s this for?”
Mike explains his business—AI, automation, the future of customer service—laying it all out in the simplest terms possible. But Jerry’s eyes glaze over faster than a doughnut in a Krispy Kreme factory.
“You’re self-employed?” Jerry asks, like he’s never heard the term before.
“Yeah, I run my own business,” Mike replies, still holding on to that last shred of hope that this encounter will go smoothly.
Jerry snorts, like Mike’s just told him he’s planning to colonize Mars. “So, no steady income?”
Mike’s starting to lose his patience now. “I have income. It’s just not from a traditional 9-to-5 job.”
Jerry raises an eyebrow. “So you don’t have a boss?”
“Nope, I’m my own boss,” Mike says, a bit of pride creeping into his voice.
“Well, I’ll have to check with my supervisor about this,” Jerry mutters, like he’s just discovered a rare and potentially dangerous species.
Mike watches as Jerry lumbers off to the back office, probably to wake up his equally lazy supervisor from a mid-morning nap. Minutes pass. Mike checks his watch, checks his phone, checks to see if he’s somehow entered a time warp where every second lasts an eternity.
Finally, Jerry returns, looking even more perplexed than before. “My supervisor says we don’t have a procedure for this,” he announces, as if it’s the final word on the matter.
“What do you mean, ‘no procedure’?” Mike asks, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.
“We only process forms for people with jobs,” Jerry explains, like Mike’s the one who’s being difficult.
“I have a job!” Mike snaps. “I just told you, I run my own business!”
Jerry sighs, like he’s dealing with a particularly stubborn child. “But you don’t have a boss.”
Mike feels his blood pressure rising. “No, I don’t have a boss, because I’m an entrepreneur. I create jobs, I create opportunities, I—”
Jerry cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Look, buddy, if you don’t have a boss, we don’t know what to do with you.”
And there it is, the crux of the problem. In Jerry’s world, there’s a system—a system that’s as rigid as a corpse in a freezer. If you don’t fit into that system, well, tough luck. You’re an anomaly, an outlier, a glitch in the matrix. And the system doesn’t like glitches. The system likes things simple, predictable, and most importantly, easy for Jerry.
Mike takes a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Is there someone else I can talk to? Maybe someone who understands what an entrepreneur is?”
Jerry shrugs. “You can talk to my supervisor, but she’s just gonna tell you the same thing.”
Mike considers his options. He could try to explain it again, but it’s clear that Jerry’s brain is running on fumes. He could ask to see the supervisor, but something tells him she’s not much better. Or he could take his chances, walk out of there, and hope he never has to deal with these people again.
But then, a thought crosses his mind—a wicked, mischievous thought. He leans in closer, lowering his voice like he’s about to share a secret. “You know,” he says, “I heard they’re planning to automate your job.”
Jerry’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but it’s enough to tell Mike he’s hit a nerve.
“Yeah,” Mike continues, “AI can do everything you do, but faster and without the attitude. No more waiting in line, no more taking numbers. Just quick, efficient service, 24/7. They say it’s the future.”
Jerry’s face goes pale, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. For the first time, he’s at a loss for words.
“Of course,” Mike adds, with a sly grin, “they’ll still need someone to keep an eye on the machines, make sure everything’s running smoothly. Someone with experience. Someone who’s, you know, a little more proactive.”
Jerry swallows hard. “Let me…let me see what I can do,” he stammers, and for the first time all day, he actually looks like he’s about to put in some real effort.
As Jerry scurries off, Mike leans back in his chair, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. Maybe he won’t get what he came for, maybe the system is too broken to fix. But for now, at least, he’s managed to shake things up a little. And in a world full of lazy clerks and bureaucratic bullshit, that’s no small victory.
So the next time you find yourself dealing with a Jerry, remember this: the system might be rigged against you, but there’s always a way to outsmart it. And sometimes, all it takes is a little creativity, a little persistence, and a well-timed comment about the future. Because in the end, the future’s coming whether they like it or not. And when it does, the lazy clerks of the world better hope they’ve got something more to offer than just sitting on their asses.
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