Dawn of the Dead-End Job

I had a talk with a friend the other night who presented (what seemed to her, to be) an interesting question.

If you were being attacked by Zombies, would you do your best to fight them off even though you may be vastly outnumbered, facing almost certain doom? Or do you just accept that doom and give in and let them do whatever Zombies choose to do with you...thus ending the terror quickly?

My answer was that it's not even a question. When facing almost certain doom, it's still an almost. Why wouldn't you go out whilst fighting till the death? It's not like you had anything better to do, and if you put forth the effort, there's that chance that you may come out of it alive (albeit psychologically scarred for eternity.) But atleast that eternity involves breathing, and beer.

That answer seemed so obvious. At least until two days later when I started to feel the Zombie attack as a metaphor for my current job. Man, life was sweet until the Zombies showed up. Now there's too many of them. For every wave of Zombies I seem to kill off, it seems as though I can't predict where the next wave will come from.

I'm seriously sitting here wondering if I continue fighting in the hopes that I come out on top, or do I bail completely, let them win, and avoid some of that mental scarring?
The answer doesn't seem so obvious anymore...But what I do know is that Michael Jackson taught us that Zombies love to dance, and while I figure all of this out, I'll be at the front of the onslaught in my red leathered zipper jacket howling at the moon with my hand on my crotch until I make a decision.