Rep. Sean Duffy (R-WI) – Congress Is a Shit McJob, and the Benefits Suck

Back when my life didn't totally suck.

I coulda stopped at four, but Rachel was all, they're getting too big to cuddle.

So finally in November, the people decide to hire me, and they give me this offer letter, and I’m so happy I just sign it without even reading it, and then I report to work on the first day and it’s like, WTF?

$174,000 per year? Is that all this job pays? Damn, that’s barely enough to keep my toddlers in diapers and my wife in maternity clothes! (Note to self: buy contraceptive foam.)

But the benefits have got to be gold, right? I mean, my last job was a shit job too, but I could go see the doctor anytime and not even have a copay, unless I binge-drank myself into alcohol poisoning and had to go to the ER to get my stomach pumped, and even then it was only $40 a pop.

Seriously, WTF was I thinking? Wait, where's the other one, whatshisname?

So my wife goes to the doctor and she calls me all pissed off because WTF! I got co-pays on doctor visits now? (Note to self: get a quote on a vasectomy.)

And Washington, DC? Shit, everything’s way more expensive here than back home in Wisconsin. Fuck! I can’t even afford a room with those great guys over at C Street! I’m going to have to sleep in my goddamn office half a week every other week when Congress is in session! You think it’s hard sleeping in a Real World house with all that screwing going on and a goddamned camera watching you take your every crap? Try sleeping when the cleaning ladies are coming around with the vacuum cleaner at 3 a.m. and they’re all startled to find you on your cot and say “Dios mio!” or whatever.

I got student loans to pay, and a shitload of credit card debt, and I’m still paying for that rusted hunk of a minivan out in the driveway!

What kind of a shit job is this?

So I go back home to Wisconsin and I have this townhall dog-and-pony show I got to do ’cause the new bosses, they want me to come around and kiss their asses everytime I’m back home from the waking nightmare that is my new job, when I’d rather stay home, send the rugrats to Grandma’s house, pop open an ice-cold Miller Lite, and make sexy-time with my lady. (Note to self: ask about copay for a tubal ligation.)

And then this one guy has the nerve to get up and ask me if I would be willing to take a pay cut, ’cause he’s working two jobs and his wife is a teacher, and for some reason he’s worried she’s going to get her pay cut too. (Note to self: call Gov. Walker and find out WTF is up with that, anyway.)

So OK, maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but you know? A man can only put up with so much abuse from his shitty bosses in exchange for a shitty salary and shitty benefits, and then he’s gonna go off, amirite? (Note to self: find out how much my copay is for Xanax.)

So I told him HELL to the no, I’m busting my ass for you ungrateful bastards, and I can’t even keep my head above water, or buy a hot new car to impress all my coworkers, oh and did I mention I sleep in my fucking office because I can’t afford a pad in DC? And this guy, he’s all “But a hundred and seventy-four thousand, that’s three times — that’s three of my family’s — three times what I make.” Yeah, well, I’m thinking to myself, you don’t got all the expenses I have, and you can drive your goddamn school bus in jeans and a flannel shirt and I gotta buy suits and ties and shit. But I keep that to myself.

OK, so I get through the rest of that goddamned boring-ass town hall shit and go on with my so-called life, taking crap from about a million different people who think that just because they voted for me they own me, getting no respect, and sleeping in my goddamn office because I’m too broke to spring for the ExtendedStay Suites DC, and all of a sudden BAM!

Everyone’s talking about this goddamn video of me blowing off steam telling that ungrateful S.O.B. where he can stick his pay cut idea!

The fucking website that ruined my fucking life.

So I jump on the phone and call those assholes down at the Polk County GOP and tell them, dudes, you totally gotta pull down that video!

And so they do, but goddamn it if other people didn’t already post it all over the fucking internets! So now I gotta get people to run around issuing cease and desist orders and getting that fucking video killed everywhere it pops up! Wait, what? I thought they got it taken down at TPM and now they’ve got it back up again? How the fuck am I going to pay for this? If I have to sell the summer house in Iron River, I’m gonna seriously hurt somebody, man.

So now I’m hiding in my office in DC (did I mention I have to sleep in that shithole? and how it smells after I’ve been there a few days?) not answering my phone, and every now and then one of those annoying aides comes in and shoves another sheet of paper with little tally marks of how many messages people are leaving, telling me I should be grateful I even have a fucking job, and how they’d love to make $174 grand like it’s real money, and there was even one message from some asshole in California named Allan who said he offers career counseling and resume-writing services, and he’s really concerned about my career path because it sounds like I didn’t do my homework before I signed up for this shit job, and he can help me polish up my resume for my imminent return to the private sector. (Note to self: call this guy.)

God my life sucks! And now my aide is telling me my wife is on the phone and she has news for me, and I swear if she tells me she’s pregnant again I’m going to eat the barrel of my gun. (Note to self: check life insurance policy for suicide exclusion.)