It’s Not My Job (And That’s the Problem)

It starts small.
A piece of trash on the sidewalk.
You walk past it. So do I.
Why?

Because we think: Someone else will get it.
It’s not my job.
That’s how it starts.

Then it scales.

A coworker screws something up — you don’t say anything.
Not your team. Not your department. Not your problem.
Just keep your head down.
Someone else will deal with it.

Now zoom out.

Something’s on fire in your city — metaphorically or literally.
Someone else will protest.
Someone else will vote.
Someone else will organize.
Someone else will risk their neck.

It’s always someone else.

This is how everything rots.

Not because people are evil.
Because people are tired, scared, overworked, and trained from birth to believe there’s always someone else in charge.

You know who taught us that?

God. Government. Corporations. Religion. Education.
They all run on the same subtle lie:

“You don’t have to carry this.
You just have to obey.”

And if you don’t obey?
If you disengage entirely?
That’s fine too — as long as you stay passive.
As long as you keep your outrage quiet, your hands clean, and your head ducked just low enough to not catch the spotlight.

But here’s the truth:

No one is coming.
No one is in charge.
There is no plan.

If the world smells like shit, it’s because we’ve all agreed to ignore the trash.
If there’s a dictator in power, it’s because we left the front door unlocked and assumed someone else would bolt it shut.
If your job is a Kafkaesque maze of responsibility dead-ends,
it’s because every person along the line said:
"Well, that’s not my department."

You want to know what is your department?

This life. This planet. This moment. This mess.

You don’t have to fix all of it.
But you don’t get to pretend it’s not yours either.

So pick something up.
Speak the fuck up.
Stand up.
Take ownership of the small corner you inhabit and set it on fire with responsibility.

Because this whole thing?
This entire broken world?
It’s not falling apart because of monsters.

It’s falling apart because too many decent people decided not to make it their problem.

The emperor has no clothes.

Will you tell him?