Working hard isn't the way out: when a job doesn't save you

Working hard doesn't pay the bills: 70% of the salary goes to a single bill

A worker manages a monthly income of 1,800 euros by combining salary and supplementary payments, but admits that 70% of his pay is swallowed up by a single direct debit. The rest barely lasts five days, or twenty-four hours if he lets himself go. The scene illustrates a phenomenon that goes beyond the anecdotal: job insecurity isn't always about low wages, but about a structure of expenses that devours any income.

The trap of 'rowing': working to pay off debts

In the slang of certain circles, 'rowing' means working. But rowing doesn't guarantee stability: some people row for six months on a renewable contract and, by the end of the month, are left with nothing. Fixed expenses (rent, utilities, loans) absorb most of the paycheck, and what's left evaporates in leisure or immediate consumption. The result is a spiral in which every pay rise is eaten up by a new direct debit.

One of the starkest testimonies points out that, after a promotion to 'junior manager', the workload increases but the feeling of suffocation doesn't ease. Quite the opposite: more rowing means more physical and mental wear, and suicidal thoughts appear as an extreme symptom of a life with no margin. It's not an isolated case; in the same thread, other participants confess having dreamed of death or having considered 'getting out of the way' as a matter of arithmetic: if suffering outweighs pleasure, why carry on?

The dichotomy between rowing and living on benefits

Against rowing comes the alternative of 'the dole': living on subsidies or social benefits. Some argue that if work doesn't bring well-being, it's better not to work. Others, however, maintain that benefits aren't enough and that, in the end, you end up just as trapped. A standout comment jokes: 'thanks for paying my IMV (Spain's minimum living income), tomorrow I get up at 15:00 and go out for beers with condoms paid for by the anti-AIDS association'. The joke hides a reality: the benefits system lets you survive, but not climb out of the hole.

The numbers that don't add up

· 70% of the paycheck goes to a single direct debit.
· The salary lasts five days, or twenty-four hours if spent on leisure.
· Someone who saves 600 euros a month can invest in 'nursing homes', but the rest is spent on vices, transport and food.
· A 26-year-old worker claims that, if his contract isn't renewed, he'll kill himself — though he trusts it will be renewed because he's 'the best thing to come through the joint in two years'.

These figures, drawn from first-hand testimonies, paint a picture where effort doesn't translate into accumulating capital, but into daily survival. The question that emerges is whether the current labour model — where wages rise more slowly than fixed costs — condemns a class of workers to row without ever reaching dry land.

The philosophical debate: is it worth carrying on rowing?

The discussion turns into an exchange of views on the meaning of life and death. Some argue that the survival instinct is biological, not spiritual; others interpret it as a 'spiritual defence' or a 'spark' that stops you switching off the console before finishing the game. But one participant sums it up bluntly: 'if you switch off the console, you don't come back'. The implicit conclusion is that, however hard the rowing, the ultimate alternative offers no comfort — it only erases the possibility that things might change.

A fact that throws you off

Those who row hardest aren't those who save most. One of the most striking testimonies is from someone who, at 81, is still alive and 'hasn't gone bald', while his son — presumably younger — dreams of blood. The father's longevity contrasts with the son's hopelessness. The fact doesn't fit any statistic, but it illustrates that working life doesn't trinc a straight line: sometimes, the one who rows longest is the one with the least desire to go on.