These poor people.
At one point, being a Top 40 DJ actually meant something. Now, there is nothing to do but pimp the exact same playlist each and every hour with increasing – and baffling, almost mentally unstable – enthusiasm, as if we’ve never heard “Royals” before, despite it playing ten minutes ago.
This isn’t a job. There is no room for creativity or an individualistic flair. You are bound to play certain songs, tell a horrendous joke and move things along. You are a cog in a merciless, sadistic machine. Where is God’s mercy for these souls?