What Ken's job would be like if it was as ridiculous as mine:

OR

Why cooking for kids is the worst. 

Ken's boss comes in after a long hard day of work and tells Ken to write a very important memo for a very important client in twenty minutes, and that if he doesn't finish in the time allotted the very impatient client will be in his office yelling at the top of his lungs (i.e. me fixing dinner fast for some hungry, hungry babies). Instead of leaving him in peace to do his work, she decides to prance around, peppering him with questions about the universe (such as, "MAMA! Why is the sky?").
Then another one of her colleagues comes in and starts touching all of Ken's stuff and the two interlopers start fighting over office supplies and over who gets to use the phone, and in the course of twenty minutes at least one of them bursts into loud, slobbery tears. Ken pushes through the interruptions and still manages to get the memo done, and he knows that it is well-written and exactly what the client needs (healthy and delicious).

Unfortunately, his boss reads one sentence, announces "I don't like it," and refuses to read anymore while her colleague silently and methodically shreds the memo into tiny little pieces and dumps them all over the floor. 

Don't worry Ken, you can try again tomorrow.
And the next day...
and the next day..
and the next...
...