Like most modern day workers, Hamlet enters the break room and immediately starts to complain...
Ah, to be, anywhere else indeed, that is the question
whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of the office and its misfortune
or by running away to a place of reverie
avoid them? To quit; to work no more;
and by work to say we slave;
the heart-ache and a thousand bills,
the debt of life accumulates, and must be paid,
perchance to pay, ay, there's the rub
for in our solitude what income may we gather,
When we have shuffled off this workman's toil?
Must give us pause, there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long a respite.
For who would bear the whips and chains of work,
the owner's wrong, the supervisor's derision,
the pangs of bonuses lost, of pay grade frozen,
the arrogance of management and the spurns
that advancement not to unworthy gives,
When we ourselves might our fortunes make,
with hands bare? who would burdens bear,
to toil and strive under heavy load,
but the dread of something after employment,
the undiscover'd freedom from wealth springs,
sojourn not, confounding the mind,
and makes us rather bear the jobs we have,
than strike out on quests we know not of?
Thus circumstance does make cowards of us all;
and thus the common site of current workplace
is cast in hues of thoughts depressed,
and ventures of great risk and merit
with this in mind are cast aside,
and lose the force of momentum. Resist now!
the multitude of coworkers, in their mockery
be all my folly remember'd.