The Inner Monologue

Let’s talk about the two parallel universes that exist in every developed city—the World of the Workers and the Daytime World—because nothing highlights the crushing grind of capitalism like a Tuesday morning trip to the grocery store.

The Daytime World: Where Time Has No Meaning (And Everyone Is Suspiciously Happy)

Ever wandered into a supermarket at 10 a.m. on a weekday? Congratulations, you’ve entered the retiree’s natural habitat. Here, the laws of physics bend to accommodate leisurely apple inspections, casual debates over organic vs. non-organic kale, and conversations that last longer than most of your work meetings.

The barista isn’t dead inside. The checkout line doesn’t feel like a hostage situation. People smile at each other—not the deranged, sleep-deprived grimace of a worker on their third espresso, but actual, genuine human warmth.

Retirees sip their coffee like they’ve got all the time in the world (because they do). Stay-at-home parents debate the merits of dinosaur-shaped nuggets with their toddlers like it’s a TED Talk. Meanwhile, you’re just trying to grab a granola bar before your next Zoom meeting starts in four minutes.

The Worker’s World: A Never-Ending Gauntlet of Stress and Self-Loathing

Now, fast-forward to 6:30 p.m. The same grocery store has transformed into Hunger Games: Corporate Edition. Workers storm the aisles like they’re on a timed obstacle course, grabbing whatever’s left (probably wilted spinach and the last sad rotisserie chicken). Parents bribe their children with candy just to survive the checkout line without a public meltdown (theirs or the kid’s).

Restaurants? Packed. Gyms? A sweaty, overbooked nightmare. Parks? Full of people desperately trying to feel something before they go home, collapse on the couch, and doomscroll until bedtime.

This is your “free time”—a cruel joke where you attempt to cram errands, exercise, socializing, and basic human needs into a two-hour window before you pass out and do it all again tomorrow.

The Silent Handover: When Two Worlds Briefly Acknowledge Each Other

At 9 a.m., workers vanish into office buildings, and the Daytime World takes over. By 5:30 p.m., retirees retreat to their homes, leaving the streets to the exhausted masses who just want to eat dinner without crying into their instant ramen.

It’s like cities run on two shifts:

• Shift 1: “Let’s enjoy life, smell the flowers, and have meaningful conversations.”
• Shift 2: “I have 37 unread emails, my soul is crumbling, and if one more person asks me for a ‘quick sync,’ I will lose it.”

The Brutal Truth? You’re Being Scammed.

Workers live in time poverty, surviving on caffeine, cortisol, and the vague hope that one day they’ll achieve “work-life balance” (a myth invented to keep us docile). Meanwhile, retirees have unlocked the cheat code: They don’t rush. They don’t panic. They just exist, blissfully unaware of the 6 p.m. grocery store thunderdome.

And when workers do get a rare weekday off, they wander around like confused tourists:
*”Wait… the gym is empty at noon? You can just… sit at a café without answering Slack messages? People *enjoy* things without feeling guilty?”*

The Only Consolation? Someday, You Too Will Join Them.

One day, if you’re lucky, you’ll wake up on a Tuesday with nowhere to be. You’ll stroll through the grocery store at 10 a.m., pick the perfect avocado, and sip coffee without checking your phone every 30 seconds.

Until then? Know this: While you’re stuck in traffic, drowning in emails, and eating sad desk lunches, the retirees are out there—living their best lives, taking three-hour lunches, and silently judging your life choices.

Welcome to the grind. See you at happy hour (if you even have time for one).