The things we do for a paycheck...

There's a theory that the world would be a much better place if everyone was required to work a crappy job at least once, for a period of six months.
Such as...
Craptastic employment tends to create an upswing in empathy for others in similar situations to yours. And I think we can all agree that the world could use an increase in basic human understanding.
for example.
Most people I know have dealt with some pretty unpleasant scenarios, all in the name of a paycheck.
I'm told that it builds character, whatever that is. Although I've got a sneaking suspicion that "building character" is just a pleasant euphemism for going through a miserable situation.
And if you can make it out of your tunnel of despair without having a complete meltdown you get exactly one character built.
To be cashed in upon retirement.
Like most of us, I've dealt with some things and seen some stuff while on the clock. Not really sure how that translates into "character" points, but I've definitely gained perspective. Which, incidentally, has done wonders for controlling my blood pressure.
Keith, why must you torment me?!"

- Pre-2011 Me
One day I was just like, huh, you mean I don't have to rain fire and damnation down upon all those who would dare inconvenience me?

Hulk no understand.
And for me, personally, there is nothing that so quickly puts things in perspective like the crap we deal with at work. For example:

"It's 2AM. There's still time to make one more bad decision."

During college I worked the third shift at a 24 hour diner.

"An eclectic eatery"
We wore tie-dyed shirts, had a vaguely stoned smiley face as a mascot, and lit goat cheese on fire.

Opa, bitches!
And around 2:05AM, we wrangled drunks.

Yup. Just like that.
But with tie-dye.
Of course there were late night fights, the occasional marriage proposal, and the always popular, Ralph.

As if you couldn't guess.
Like the guy who ralphed into his water glass.

Is that Corona on the bottom?
Of course, such a slim container was not spacious enough to handle his technicolor yawn, so yours truly sprinted to grab a bucket.

And by the way...

Dear Guy who yaked into his beverage cup,
  As you continue your journey through life, I hope you found better friends than the group you were with in the spring of 2006. None of whom offered to assist as you revisited your victuals.
There were looks of disgust and horror, but none held your hair, rubbed your back, or spoke words of comfort into your alcohol addled ears.
Although I think the dude on the left took your hurling as his chance to cop a feel on the cute blonde.
This is actually pretty accurate.
Nope, instead the third shift waitress, smelling of cheese and stale cigarette smoke, held back your greasy long hair while you expunged the contents of your stomach into a grimy old bucket.

In the middle of the dining room.

And you weren't even in my section.

You're welcome.

Lesson learned: Real friends keep your hair out of puke.
Perspective gained: I've got real friends.

Thanks guys.

No comments:

Post a Comment