just kidding... work actually is the meaning of life!

A performance review in purgatory [Existential Explorer: Part 5]

🛑 Warning 🛑

This one’s a little different. Skip it if you get easily offended, don’t like to laugh, or are in HR.

Sometimes I like to switch it up, trying something new. Mostly because… I feel like it. Don’t worry, I’ll return to my serious and boring essays next week.

This is part of my Existential Explorer series. Last week was about building a life around what matters. This week is asks: “what if work really IS all that matters?”

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Bob stared at the Pearly Gates, immediately regretting his enthusiasm at that children’s birthday party. Bob had thought he wasn’t too big for the bounce house. Turns out, he was.

The gates ahead beamed a reflective glare, trying a bit too hard to look impressive. Next to them stood a man in flowing priestly robes, wearing a laminated badge.

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I

Bob mumbled to himself: “Ah shit… Catholic.”

The Saint didn’t look up right away, he just sighed and flipped a page.

Saint: “What was that?”

Bob: “Oh nothing. Just was hoping for one a little more… sympathetic.”

Saint: “Well Bob, welcome to the afterlife.

The kids call it ‘Purgatory.’ Internally, we just call it ‘The Performance Review.’

Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Bob: “Performance Rev-?”

Saint: “Yes, Bob. Every human is judged for their worth on Earth. Then we decide what to do with you after.

We soft-launched performance reviews down there to ease people in. But well… HR got a little carried away with it.”

Bob: “That’s for sure!”

He shuddered at the memory of one review that ended with his manager saying, “I’m not sure why you’re still here.”

Saint: “Well, let’s get started, shall we? Did you complete your Self-Evaluation?”

Bob: “Umm, I, umm… I must have missed that email.”

Saint: “Well, you can fill out the 47-page form on your own time. No one reads it anyways.

Let’s start with the first thing on the list: your number of hours worked.”

Bob: “Number of hours worked? Why is that important?”

Saint: “Right. Context. I always forget that part.

We just had a thought leader pass through recently. Gave the keynote at AngelConf. Big on ‘start with why.’

So now, of course, it’s a whole thing.”

Bob: “Start with-?”

Saint: “Yeah. Funny story…

When he was done, we sent him straight to Hell. Gave him a job in middle management. 50 direct reports. Zero decision-making power. Calendar is pre-booked to eternity with back-to-back meetings.

And we never told him why!

(chuckles to himself)

Honestly, there are perks to this job.”

Bob: “My God, that’s awful!”

Saint: “No, I’m not God. Common mistake though.”

---

II

Saint: “Anyway, back to the review. Let me explain what we’re doing here. You see, the meaning of life…”

Bob leaned in, now listening.

Saint: “...is work.”

Bob: “Work?”

Saint: “Yes. Your pure output. How much you produced while alive. Plus, any indirect impact that made others produce more too. The more, the better.”

Bob: “Work is the meaning of life?”

Saint: “Yeah. Paid employment, more specifically.

Think of humans as machines, built by us gods, because we like to see a range of consumable goods in the marketplace. I guess souls are sacred, but we prefer to think of them as our ‘greatest assets.’

You, humans, were our finest creation. Completely insatiable. Always producing. The other animals turned out to be basically useless.

We had to phase out the dinosaurs because without thumbs, they weren't going to be able to handle spreadsheets.”

Bob: “Wait, what? Slow down. I’m just trying to catch up here. You’re saying the greatest mystery in life… is work?

What about altruism? Compassion? You know… uhhh, all that other stuff we’re supposed to care about?”

Saint: “Nope. None of that mattered. Unless it helped you work more. Then, yeah, I guess it was fine.”

Bob: “But what about family?”

Saint: “Dude. We don’t care how many kids you have. Or even if you were around.

In fact, the less you were there, the better. Kids who grow up chasing unavailable approval? They outperform on their metrics, like, off the charts.”

Bob: “What about community?”

Saint: “Community? Ha! I’ll show you ‘community.’

Down in Hell, they’ve got a GREAT community! Nothing brings people together like suffering.”

Bob: “But… what about right and wrong? Good and evil?”

Saint: “C’mon man. We’re the Catholic Church. We’re fine with a few indiscretions!”

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III

Saint: “Let me repeat: It’s. All. About. Work.

Haven’t you been paying attention? Damn. We sent all those hustle-bros down there to spread the word.

Look at Heaven. It’s filled with all the greats.

Did you know we have the first guy who ever replied ‘per my last email’? He’s a legend around here.”

Bob: “I don’t understand why all this comes down to work? I mean, there’s so much more to life than that!”

Saint: “Yeah, that was the idea. At least, for a while.

But all those supposed ‘virtues’ you were talking about? WAY too subjective. So squishy. Open to interpretation.

The angels kept arguing about it – couldn't agree on anything. There were power struggles. Everyone trying to protect their headcount. Even… ‘Alignment Meetings.’ Can you believe it? It got ugly.

Plus, when there were just a few million people on Earth, we could get away with judging everyone one-by-one. But once it got to be about, say, a billion people or so? Forget it. Completely inefficient. Couldn’t automate it either.

We even brought in a change management consultant. Nobody liked him though. So guess where he is now?

Anyway, that’s why we introduced Capitalism. Not just an economic system. A moral one.

Objective. Scalable. Looks great on a dashboard.

The rollout got delayed by the Dark Ages, but once we got it live… I’ll admit, I was skeptical, but it’s been a total godsend. No pun intended.

I’ve finally been able to spend more time on my harp lessons. You know, at least one thing for me…”

Bob: “But why would God do that?”

Saint: “Oh, well, the change was approved by the Board. God’s hand was ultimately forced by our primary shareholder.”

Bob: “Who’s that?”

Saint: “Goldman.”

Bob: “Fuckin’ Goldman…”

They nod in agreement.

---

IV

Bob: “By the way, I thought it was the Protestant Work Ethic, not Catholic?”

Saint: “Yeah. It’s THE one thing those bozos got right.

They figured out that if you blend work with religion, you can get people to do a lot of stuff they’d never do otherwise. So we threw in ‘enlightenment’ as a performance perk for upper management. Morale went through the roof.

But eventually, the system got overloaded. We needed a place to put all the missed potential, procrastination, and social media influencers.

We call it ‘Heaven’s Excess Labor Losses.’”

Bob: “You mean… HELL?”

Saint: “Bingo. Satan runs it. He’s a contractor. Unionized though. We don’t like to talk about it.”

There’s a long pause.

“Back to your file. Now, for this part, I’ve looped in Janice from Celestial Resources. Legal reasons. I’m sure you understand.”

Bob: “Oh, okay… hi, Janice!”

Saint: “No. You won’t hear from Janice. Trust me… you do NOT want to hear from Janice.”

He looks up slightly and shudders.

“As I said, let’s start with hours worked. First, I have to commend you on the number of hours you told other people you worked. Even if you only worked, say, half that – it’s still appreciated. The illusion of hard work keeps everyone feeling guilty about not working more.

So that was a good thing. But, on the other hand…”

Bob: “Wait. Are you giving me the shit sandwich?”

Saint: “You didn’t work as long as you could have. You did a lot of screwing around at work. And I don’t mean staying late for no reason, which is fine in our book.

I mean, specifically: your bathroom breaks. They went long. Like, suspiciously long. At one point, we were worried whether you were okay.”

Bob: “Well, I… I know I didn’t have the best diet.”

Saint: “Sure. But you know. And I know. And Janice definitely knows what you were really doing in there.”

Bob: “Uhhhh…”

Saint: “And it says here you stopped working at 61. You easily had 4 more years in you. C’mon dude. Those last few years could’ve really helped your case here.”

Bob: “Well, I’ve always wondered: what’s the significance of 65? It feels like an arbitrary number that has very little do with when someone should stop working.”

Saint: “Yeah, 65? No idea why, to be honest. It’s just what’s in the book.

I follow the book. You know what they say… complianceness is next to godliness.”

Bob: “I thought it was ‘cleanliness?’”

Saint: “Nah. The prophet screwed up the translation. Which is kinda annoying because we sent around follow-up notes after the meeting.”

---

V

Saint: “Alright, let’s look at the type of work you did.”

Bob: “I know Accounting wasn’t the most glamorous, but at least I wasn’t in Finance!”

Saint: “Funny you say that. Finance is the highest calling.”

Bob: “Finance?!”

Saint: “Yeah. You don’t want to be IN the arena, you want to be FINANCING the arena.

Ideally hands-off. Private equity. Shell corporations. Offshore accounts. That kinda thing.”

Bob: “But why?!”

Saint: “The tax benefits.”

Bob: “Oh.”

Saint: “You see, there is no higher calling than getting other people to work. It’s a form of passive salvation. It’s the type of stuff that separates the saints from the staff.

The second highest calling is Marketing.”

Bob: “Marketing?”

Saint: “Marketing is essential because we need to convert all this meaningless stuff into money.

It’s the sacred lubricant of economic production. Marketers get people to buy more stuff. Stuff requires money. Money requires work. And so on. The cycle repeats.

I mean, what is evolution if not a highly efficient system for moving inventory?”

Bob: “Wait… you mean like, we’re the inventory?”

Saint: “You’re finally catching on!

We move inventory via humans. You move inventory via work.

Bob, you were basically a SKU. Low-margin. Clearly upgradeable. But still, part of the supply chain.

And again, we’re back to the point of it all: output. It’s all very meta, I know.”

Bob: “What’s the third highest calling? HR?”

Saint: “Oh, those people are just as insufferable in the afterlife. They can skip the performance review and go straight to Hell!”

Bob: “Wait. Since you’re doing performance reviews, aren’t you technically in HR?”

Saint: “Careful now, Bob… Your fate across an eternity is in my hands…”

---

VI

Bob: “Fine. Whatever. Can we just skip all this BS and get to the verdict?

Damn, this is just like a REAL performance review! Everyone knows you’re supposed to lead with the decision, then backfill the rationale.”

Saint: “Alright, alright. No need to get pushy.

Now I’m starting to understand the comments section of your review…”

Bob: “Just tell me already.”

Saint: “Fine. After careful consideration. Taking into account all your direct and indirect output. Plus, a few points deducted for how annoying you’ve been today...”

He closes the file.

“It’s reincarnation for you.”

Bob: “Reincarnation? I thought you were Christian?”

Saint: “Yeah, we’re in the middle of a divine pivot.

Your assignment: Worker Bee.

Let’s show you what a lifetime of real work looks like. If you don't work a full day, your boss eats you.”

Bob: “Wait! Please. There has to be another option. I mean, I’ll do anything!

I’ll even… I’ll even accept a role as an unemployed newsletter writer.”

Saint: “To be honest, Bob, I didn’t even read your file. We just fed your data into a large soul model. It wrote the entire review on its own.”

The Saint leans in.

“Between you and me, I’m actually sort of worried about my own job. This new GPT-God 5.6 model really makes you wonder…”

Janice crackles over the loudspeaker: “Ahem!”

Saint: “Sorry, Janice! You can disregard that.”

Bob: “Are you done?”

Saint: “No, but you are. We went way over time. I’ve got 3 million more reviews to get through today. The dead just won’t stop dying…”

---

As Bob’s vision fades to black, a soothing synthetic voice chimes in…

“Thank you for participating in your Final Performance Review.

Your feedback matters to us. To help us improve the process for future souls, please take a moment to complete a brief survey…”

Bob, his voice faint and dissolving: “You’ve gotta be fuc—”

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👀 Next up: something far less fun, but also less embarrassing to my parents.

Make something that doesn’t matter

⍰ Question: if this made you laugh, cry, or want to put me through your own performance review, let me know.
🙏 My Ask: If you enjoyed this essay, pass it along, ❤️ or 🔄.