I have this "thing". This "thing" creates a lot of trouble for me in the working world but, on the other hand, also provides for some very interesting life episodes. The "thing" is my allergy to work. My friend Lan once told me that she has never met anyone so reluctant to get a "real" job...I told her that I would take that as a compliment.
The truth is I don't mind working hard, taking it for the team, breaking a sweat, whatever words you want to use for labor. The labor just has to continue to provide interesting experiences. Try feeding that "excuse" to the average boss. And I know that I am not alone on this matter. I'm just the type that would rather eat crackers and potted meat and live freely than enjoy a steak dinner provided by earnings via reluctance. I've been generously called "free-spirited" by some but more often than not, a bum by many. Then again, I cannot be accurately labeled a bum for I am largely self-sufficient with the occasional filler met by my awesome big brother, Sage, but by and large, I am self reliant, therefore I register, by class, in the untethered land between the working class and the bum --- the bumworker. No, not a working bum. A working bum is one who hustles people of their hard-earned money. I am a bumworker. I work just enough to cover my ass.