Paid in Full, a.k.a. I Don't Give a Crap About My Job

Love or Money by Banksy

I’m not rich. If I was, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be on an island with Alanis Morissette, dancing and swimming and laughing at Canadians.

I’m also not much of a company man. I treat work like I treat aerobics: the less I do, the better.

Do I feel guilty for this insouciance? For working from home? For working in sweatpants? For pulling funny faces and cursing like a coxswain during my weekly (and muted) meetings?

Hell. No.

Don’t get me wrong: I do my job. Rather well, if I say so myself. But I’m not trying to ‘take initiative’. I’m not going to ‘think outside the box’. I’ll be damned if I go out of my way to help some fat cat multiply their income. While I’m grateful to be employed, the truth is I don’t give a crap about my job. I just want to be paid in full.

Eric Barrier and Rakim Allah rose to prominence during hip hop’s infancy. Their classic joint Paid in Full is an amalgamation of masterstrokes, a coming together of two young artists at the top of their craft.

Paid in Full speaks to the struggle for success. Rakim describes the severity of his circumstances, ‘digging into his pocket’ and ‘coming up with lint’. We empathize with Rakim because most of us have experienced (or continue to experience) financial instability. I remember one time I dug into my pocket and all I found was a ticket stub from Spice World.

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Rakim leaves home to earn some ‘dead presidents’; to find a steady ‘9 to 5’. He refuses to become a ‘stick-up kid’ again, to revert to the ‘devious things’ he did for money. We hear the grind of inner city life, coupled with the desire to overcome and thrive.

The words hit home because they speak the truth. All of us have had to make money in ways we’re not particularly proud of. Selling drugs, for example. Or various forms of marketing.

Also in play throughout the song is Rakim’s love of hip hop and the artistic process. They nourish him and keep him off the streets. We hear Rakim yearn for the tools of his craft – ‘a pen and a paper, a stereo, a tape of…’ - but he’ll need to make some different paper before he’s able to afford them.

Despite the challenges posed in the song, Paid in Full ends on a triumphant note, as Eric B. and Rakim head off to the studio. Rakim’s hard work has improved his finances. His 9 to 5 has paid him as promised. But that’s not all. Now he can afford to record his music, to nurture his art and his soul, and thus be paid in full.

Which brings me back to my stupid job and giving zero craps about it. Because I’m like Rakim. I need a job, but it doesn’t define me. It keeps me off the streets. Keeps me out of jail. Most importantly, it helps to finance my artistic process, all these words in this here Jukebox.

So let the fat cats suck the teat of their transient power. Let the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed kiss the butts of the upper brass. They’ll learn soon enough to invest in ChapStick.

Me, I’m going to take it easy. I’m going to hit my deadlines, answer my emails, and collect two hundred as I pass Go. Sure, I earn less than your average carnie, but that’s not where I really get paid.

I’m paid here every time I write. Not literally, of course. Not yet, anyway.

But that’s OK, because I am compensated in myriad ways. Ways more satisfying and profound than a fistful of dollars. Ways I’ve yet to properly digest, but always leave me feeling full.