Let me begin with a tale that was the inspiration for this essay. I was at my local watering hole watching football when I noticed a cute bartender working. Since it was a neighboring place, my presence was there enough to recognize she was fairly new. Out of friendliness laced with an ulterior motive for future free beers, I sparked up a conversation. I introduced myself and questioned “Are you new here?”
In a condensed form, she answered that she’s been serving suds for a few months but due to conflicting auditions for some acting roles, she only accepted a limited number of shifts.
I countered with "Oh, so you are doing some part time acting until your bartending career takes off?"
Alas no amusement was found on her end but naturally I presumed it was being disguised by her fabulous acting skills. The flaw in my premise was it refused to explain why I didn’t receive any beer on the house that evening. I just had to assume that if I stayed a cocktail longer, then that one would have been the one paid for by my charm.
Alright, the above encounter was added after the below part was masterfully constructed. I have no desire to modify the original introduction for this piece to flow. Instead I prefer to announce that it won't which clears me from any responsibility. It's like if there was syrup spilled on a restaurant floor and rather than it being mopped up, a “Warning, Wet Floor” sign was hung. In going forward, please be aware, "Rough Transition Ahead."
The title refers to when you’re at a restaurant and an attractive waitress looks like she is just going through the motions. She is doing a half assed job because of modeling or actress aspirations. Her mind is convinced that this is only temporary and that better things are on the horizon.
I decided that if that gets her through her working day, then the same can be true for me. If I accidentally mail out false documents or my hearts not into giving quality client service, it doesn’t matter because this is only an obligation until I become an essayist. Soon this will all be meaningless and have no impact long term. This gives me a built in excuse to rationalize inferior productivity. I can roam around carefree because in theory I am merely killing time.
This concept actually reminds me of when my dad played lotto when I was growing up. He continually tried for the jackpot but his successes were minimal amounts that were simply rolled into more tickets. As the losing continued, I believed he was throwing money down the drain. Of course I was always cheering for the numbers he picked to match the ones displayed on TV but a child’s patience wears thin.
With my dad’s poor use of the family money, I wanted control forfeited over to me. I am not saying I would have invested it wisely into high yield money markets but it could have been used for baseball cards, candy or whatever other crap I fancied as kid. In my eyes, it was smarter to collect tangible playful substances.
Later as a working adult I realized that striking it rich was only a piece of the lottery puzzle. Occasionally when I feel lucky I will play the numbers of my birthday or dream pant waist size. I’ll also chip into the office pool so I don’t have to fear working solo in an empty office. As I started playing more often, I was able to comprehend what lotto was all about.
Yes the main focus was winning millions, but there's also the hope involved. It can assist me out of bed in the morning or through a rough patch during the day. I'll think, maybe just maybe, this will be my last day in the working world. If perchance I wasn't fortunate in instantly raising to a higher tax bracket, there was always another chance to grasp onto tomorrow.
With my new outlook on life, I returned to the local bar to apologize for being a dream crusher. To my dismay, I found out the bartender/actress had resigned from her beer dispensing occupation. Since she left on short notice, she left behind a note for me to read as follows:
Dearest Pete,
It pains me to stop supplying you with alcohol, but my dream has finally come true. After years and years of trying, my father won the lottery and I will become princess in his glorious beach side castle. I have great happiness in my heart and I hope you someday find yours. As my debt to you has been weighing on my conscious, please use this letter as a token for a free beer you were owed due to your charisma.
Yours Truly,
Nameless Bartender
Fine, she did quit serving at the tavern but the above mentioned note was never received and its existence must be debated. You are free to draw your own conclusion or accept the poetic symmetry of mine. Nonetheless, this essay is over as I have plenty of filing to due at my temporary banking job.
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