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“No hay problema," Orlando agreed. "But you haven't said where?" His eyes grazed over the rumpled tux, Aiden not having thought about where the tattoo might go. Isabel had an answer.

"His neck."

"My neck?"

"Tiene cojones," Orlando said slyly grinning.

"Yes, your neck. It'll be your thing, you know, when you're famous--like an insigna. It's sexy and dangerous. Aidan's going to be a famous rock star, Orlando."

Aidan admired her confidence. "From her lips ..."

"I surely hope, mis amigos, because putting that thing on your neck does not say nine-to-fice employment.”
― Laura Spinella, Perfect Timing

“No hay problema," Orlando agreed. "But you haven't said where?" His eyes grazed over the rumpled tux, Aiden not having thought about where the tattoo might go. Isabel had an answer.

"His neck."

"My neck?"

"Tiene cojones," Orlando said slyly grinning.

"Yes, your neck. It'll be your thing, you know, when you're famous--like an insigna. It's sexy and dangerous. Aidan's going to be a famous rock star, Orlando."

Aidan admired her confidence. "From her lips ..."

"I surely hope, mis amigos, because putting that thing on your neck does not say nine-to-five employment.”
― Laura Spinella, Perfect Timing

“Life must be terrible for working people, considering they spend every Friday night celebrating a two day break from it.”
― Robert Black

“Why spend your whole life on the high seas looking for treasure,' Peter asked, talking to the clouds as he scaled a rope up what remained of the half-crumbled mast, 'when you could have a promised pay check in exchange for all the life you'd live between nine-and-five.”
― Audrey Greathouse, The Neverland Wars

“I don't know what everybody else was fantasizing about but what I was fantasizing about was a nine-to-five existence, a house on a tree-lined block with a white picket fence, pink roses in the backyard. [...] After a while you learn that privacy is something you can sell, but you can't buy it back.”
― Bob Dylan, Chronicles, Volume One

“The Daily Grind by Stewart Stafford

Crooked broker flashes teeth,
Cannibal flesh on their napkin,
The traffic jam zombie shuffle,
Stars, take me home quickly.

Follow the screaming off a cliff,
Panic echoes as the land recoils,
Sea spray whipping up at you fast,
Splash down into drowning lessons.

See a shark fin’s scything slash,
Fangs picked clean with a toothpick,
Dark eyes wander to exposed midriff,
Chomp, and all the problems cease.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“I fear living a life similar to the movie "Groundhog Day", where I wake up in the morning, work eight to five, come home and watch television for a few hours, then go to bed, only to wake up the next day and do the same thing. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year. I don't want to look back on my year and see nothing but a long string of eight to fives.”
― Cory Reese, Nowhere Near First: Ultramarathon Adventures From The Back Of The Pack

“This is a time when some of the smartest people in business are eschewing the regimented rubrics of a nine-to-five job, and the safety of a predictable and sequential career, in favour of more independence and self-direction.”
― Gyan Nagpal, The Future Ready Organization: How Dynamic Capability Management Is Reshaping the Modern Workplace

“Belief in yourself can certainly be difficult and painful, and the process is not effortless. You will constantly battle fear, doubt, negative feedback, and hundreds of other forces. Like gravity, these forces have the ability to continually pull you down. It takes effort to get out of bed, get dressed, and battle all day on your nine-to-five, then be the weekend warrior for your dream.”
― Cliff Beach, Side Hustle & Flow: 10 Principles to Live and Lead a More Productive Life in Less Time

“Beside him was a small employee sweeping the floor, just by Andrei. The cleaner clenched the broom with effort and quick movements. She moved forcefully, with so much vigor that one saw a girl scout. But wrinkles had already formed on her neck, that sweated, moistening her black wig. Andrei stared, noticing she was damn good at her job, but too good. She would bend her legs to sweep the difficult corners of the shop. The woman would adjust the picture frames on the wall and wipe down the chairs, tasks which were not part of her required duties. Whenever her co-workers talked casually, the woman steered the conversation to the topic of the conditions of the store, which she knew, or to certain customers, who she knew, or to how business was, which she knew. She drove back home with a smile, knowing she’d done a great job that day. “They need me! Otherwise, who else would have caught the slip hazard by the trash? No one, not even my manager!â€� she would say before bed. She was naturally helpful. It was tragic to see that kind employee, happy like a little child, be so great at some stupid shop, when in her pumped a heart large enough to fuel the future, a forest, or a country. There was no structure of life, or invention yet created, whose mechanism could righteously allocate the innocence and love embedded in the warm blood of a human being. There deserved to be. She was sacred. But the world, decidedly corporate, had seized her, eaten her up, devouring what was left of the lively.”
― Karl Kristian Flores, A Happy Ghost