Step 1: Spend your excess cash on multifarious consumer goods and services and/or alcohol and/or drugs in a vain attempt to buy the happiness denied you on a daily basis by the job you hate.
Step 2: Realise that you are still unhappy although you now have far more consumer goods than you actually need and/or a hangover and/or narcotically induced paranoia. Have a small cry.
Step 3: Rather than face up to the problem, bury yourself in e2 and attempt to node your worries away.
Step 4: Enjoy limited success but ultimately feel a sense of desperation and self loathing as you berate yourself for your lack of determination to make a better life for yourself. Then have a small cry.
Step 5: Repeat steps 1 to 4 until such time as you actually get the balls to find a job you like and realise that the extra money you previously earned you don't actually feel the need to spend anymore. Then feel like a bit of a turd for wasting x years of your life. Cry with relief.
*By the way, this is in no way autobiographical. I really, really like my job, NO I really do. Honest, no really (small soft sobs can be heard as lioncub weeps uncontrollably into his relatively large but ultimately worthless pay-packet!)