Every job seems to have it.
"I have to do some work this afternoon," my brother-in-law told us as we were planning to go shopping. "I still have 8 hours of mandatory training I have to finish by the end of the year."
We found him lying on the couch a couple of hours later, his computer droning at him from the coffee table. He paused the playback when we entered, but once we filled him in on our purchases and plans, he hit the spacebar again.
The tinny voices coming from his laptop speakers could have been the same ones that narrate our hours of obligatory training. The content was focused on accounting and tax returns, but it was no dryer or more exciting than our slips and falls and mandatory reporting sessions.
And despite not being my own requirement, I found it intensely oppressive nevertheless.
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