Career Choices

So I'm standing in line at the bank,
looking around at the lobby.
And I see myself sitting at one of those desks.
Working here.
Knowing I've got only seventeen years until retirement.
But nevertheless,
coming in every day.
Hoping that today is the day
when I'll get taken hostage.
Because even if I end up getting shot
several times at close range,
and dropped out of the car for dead,
Because even if I am dead,
it would be better than being here
sitting at that desk,
looking at the people standing in line,
knowing that they're going to walk out of here,
and don't ever have to come back.
People like me.
But then,
I don't work here.
I work somewhere else.