A six-figure salary? Pride in what I do? A meaningful contribution to the world? A spouse and children? These are definitely things I don't have. What I do have, however, is a 25-week Fitbit Workweek Hustle win streak.

While I could find satisfaction in knowing that my work brings a purpose to my life, the steps I take while pacing tearfully in the work bathroom do help me add thousands of steps each week. Those tears propel me to pointless fitness competition dominance that overshadows all the busy work achievements of my work week. At least half of my Monday total is from pretending I smoke just so I can take 15 minutes to do laps of desperation around the building. As I struggle to forget that I once had goals and aspirations to help the world, those laps sometimes inadvertently get pushed to 20 minutes.

Walking home at the end of a particularly pointless and soul-crushing day of work, I can add even more steps while avoiding friends who seem to actually enjoy what they do. When I see Craig happily approaching me after a long day as a fundraising coordinator for the local food bank, the speed with which I steer clear of him before he notices me totally pads my total. As does the roundabout way I walk a few streets over to be sure he doesn't see me and tell me about all the people his work helps. I mean, I help my managers feel important while they critique everything I do, but that just leads to more record-breaking stepping as I ensure to flee from my desk when I know they're about to walk past me to go to lunch.

Some of my friends are on their second or third kid, while I just bought my cat an assortment of sweaters, but the laps I did around the pet store helped me reach 25,000 steps on Wednesday. I may have spent two hours there just hoping someone might spark up a conversation by the cat hairball medication, but that's okay. What I lacked in social interaction, I made up for in passing all my brothers on the step leader chart.

When I'm finally in for the night, at the very late 6 p.m. hour, I'm not done padding those stats. That pizza I'm heating up in the oven for stress eating will need to be burned off in some way, so I walk on my treadmill while scrolling through an Instagram feed filled with doting parents taking their cute new babies out for a stroll in the park. Yeah, well, I traveled to the park in my neighborhood the other night, too. My friends brought home great memories and sweet baby pictures. I brought home dog poop on my shoe. Same difference. But did my friends get even more steps while they ran home to douse their shoes in hose water? I didn't think so. I'm definitely beating them this week.

Having a worthwhile job and the love and affection of other human beings is alright I guess, but can any of these things give you a cool notification on your phone telling you that you moved more than your acquaintances this week? Definitely not. I know which one I prefer.