Monday, June 10, 2013

Two Ways To Go

You can climb the ladder. Do the things you are supposed to do. Keep that resume fresh, print it on pretty paper, get yourself interviewed so you can tell your lies to the interviewer who is lying to you.

There is a blueprint laid out. You are taught to follow that. That is just the way it is, it is just the way the game is played. Keep moving on up if you have the ambition and the persistence. Buy the house, buy the car, take the vacation.

I was great in interviews. Still am. I am an actor. Once I get the job, I underachieve. The greatest, most honest comment I ever got from a boss was from my buddy Ken McGucken. I landed a job as a Sr. Accountant in an insurance company, supervising three people. He was my boss.

After a few months of underachieving, when he realized I wasn't quite as good as my interview performance lead him to believe, he said to me: "You are an interesting guy. You came across as a confidant guy, a leader in the interview, but you are a whole 'nother guy on the job."

I loved that comment. It didn't hurt because it was dead on true and he had the balls to say it to my face. A fine historical moment.

But I digress.

You can play the game and that is fine. We are all struggling to be able to eat and to be able to pay the Mortgage Vampire. Whatever it takes to survive, baby - whatever it takes to survive.

You can also choose to scale your life back. Make it so damn small that the demands on your psyche and your time and abilities are minimized.

There's this guy.....................

There is a guy I drive by on my commute to and from The Asylum everyday.

He lives in a single wide trailer right by the side of the road. I mean I could practically reach out and high five this guy as I drive by.

I never see a car or truck on his little patch of land. Never. And I drive by at all hours of the day because my schedule is so fucked up. I know he is there. Sometimes I see him walking in or out, or sitting on the stoop. No vehicle.

At night I see one small light on at one end of the trailer. Like he is trying to conserve eeelectricity. Or like that is the end of the trailer where he does his living; no need to illuminate anything else until necessary.

He lives 50 yards from a convenience store.

I imagine this guy to have a tiny mortgage payment, or none. I imagine him to have no job. I imagine him doing all of his food and beverage shopping at the convenience store. Living on Spam, no name Oateeios, processed cheese, Doritos and beer.

I imagine this guy to be a lot smarter than me.

Low stress, no stress. Doesn't have to kiss anybody's ass, doesn't have financial pressure, no deadlines, no commitments, can turn his face to the hot summer sun whenever he feels like it.

I could be wrong. His life may not be that perfect.

I choose not to believe that.

I worship this guy.

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