The weekly humiliation ritual of going into the office once a week (they want me there 3 times a week). 1 hour on the train. Half the day sitting at a desk wearing headphones on virtual meetings with people who are also sitting in offices somewhere else. Lunch with two normie colleagues talking about football and which singer is dating which actor, while I’m staring into my chicken thinking about bread and circuses, currency debasement and the slow collapse of the monetary system. Then back upstairs for another virtual meeting I could have joined from my office room at home. By 3pm I’ve achieved about 20% of what I would have done at home because every attempt to focus gets interrupted by somebody wandering over for a quick chat. Then another train home. Two hours commuting, £30 poorer, zero deep work completed, and somehow more exhausted from achieving nothing. Every Tuesday is just another reminder that exiting the fiat mines remains priority number one. I genuinely cannot do this shit forever.