Today at work, it was just like every other day. See, I was about to launch into this whole bit about how I did something so novel, and different, and interesting, and blah blah blah. But I just don't have the heart. Because, like I said, work today, is just like any other day. Even though it's Winsday - or Hump Day, if you will - it's still a day chock full of data entry.
So I have to ask myself, what else would I rather be doing? Is there much, really? Considering that I have rent to pay, and credit card bills to pay, and student loans to re-pay, I need a job that pays me well. Which this one does. Jokes on you, General Dynamics! You're paying me to post this! Also, my rubber band ball is almost baseball sized. The day it's cantelope sized is the day I'll be happy. And I guess I'll just a new one if/when that happens.
So yeah, I need to be working, and I might as well be working here, right? Cause being a cashier jockey at borders sure as hell won't pay the bills, you can count on that. And for me to go back to school - well, that would only *increase* the amount of money I have to give to someone else. Working it is then, and you won't find an easier well-paying job than mine.
I was watching HBO and there was this documentary called Born Rich. It was about all these fabulously wealthy, and generally obnoxious, young adults (you know, my age) who are all ridiculously and enormously wealthy. And without a lick of work on their part. The director/narrator was the heir to the Johnson & Johnson fortune. There was some gaming fortune heir (who was the biggest dick, really), and this guy who is heir to both the Whitney and Vanderbilt families. And the movie basically documents how these people (there were, I think, about a dozen rich kids profiled) come to grips with their enormous amount of wealth. Basically, they do so with great difficulty.
Perhaps I missed the entire point of the documentary, which was, I suspect, to demonstrate that rich kids have problems too, and theirs is a life of isolation and drug use, and other crap. Included, mind you, in this "other crap" are billions and billions of dollars. The Whitney/Vanderbilt heir - who was only told about his wealth when he was 12 and his uncle took him to New York's Grand Central Station and told him that the train station effectively belongs to him - made a good case that money or not, he needs to be doing something every day to feel worthwhile. To that end, despite an income well into the six figures that he gets just from being born who he was, he works a job that makes $50,000 a year. The gaming heir/jackass said that he doesn't know what he wants to do in life, but that no matter what, he wants to be "indispensable", like an attorney or buissness man. Christ, I can tell you how important those types of people are.
For me, though, having grown up on the lower side of middle-class my whole life (except for right now, I guess, though my income is still in the lower-middle class bracket, I imagine), there is something almost magical and enchanting about the prospect of just getting $100,000 each and every year. And for doing nothing. Nothing more than being born to a very specific man and woman. Like, if I had even half that, I sure as hell wouldn't be killing time in this law firm making labels, that's for damned sure.
But what would I do? I do agree with the one dude who just needed to work somewhere, to do something. I think it's good to occupy yourself with something aside from episodes of Judge Judy (though, good luck to him actually getting a job these days without his family name). Like I said in my previous post, maybe I'd do cooking school. I mean, why not? Maybe I'd just go back to school and get a masters in... something. Hell, why not a PhD? Well, I can tell you why - b/c that involves a shit load of work. A real, veritable shit load.
Maybe I'd just buy a home in Rome (hey that rhymes!), and live there. Forever, you know. And I'd... I'd wake up, eat something, go out and walk around, eat dinner, pick up drunk american students to take home with me, etc etc. You get the idea. And that would be my life. Every day until I die. No work, to be sure. But is that truly what I want? How do rich people do it?
Ah, and there's the irony. it's like the movie makers and I completely missed each other's points. In that pretend conversation that we haven't actually had. Whereas he (they) couldn't come to grips with the idea of a life of true leisure, I can't come to grips with this idea of a desire to work hard at stuff. We're not puritans anymore people, let's move on with our lives.
But fine, if I had to do something, it probably would be cooking school. If planning my Halloween party taught me but one thing, it would be to not put so much fruit in sangria - especially apples, which were notorious in their ability to soak up the booze. If I learned a second thing, it's that I enjoy providing for others, and hosting, in general. And it's like, being a cook seems a natural enough extension of that. And I could even open up a restaurant, and if it failed? Well, oh well, only got many, many billions more where that came from.
And yet I've seen or heard enough to know that cooking school is *tough*. And it's a lot of work, with the constant threat of losing a finger or two (though, again, being rich, I could afford the best health care, so it's not like I'd even have to worry about that - I could wind up with a bionic thumb!). But you know, sure, that's precisely what I would do - go to cooking school. Probably buy a high-rise condo in Chicago, an apartment in Rome, and the go to cooking school. That would be my life.
And honestly, maybe it could be my life. I have always maintained that my alternate career path (alternate to what, I don't know) is to win the lottery. Sadly, I rarely, rarely play, which makes it difficult to win. Don't need a degree in statistics to tell me that.
No, I know that this is a pipe dream. I know, really. I don't know what my life holds beyond the next few months, but I doubt I'll be coming into any multi-billion dollar inheritance. So I can make all these plans, and decide where to go on holidays. I could even decide where to summer (Smashing! How delightful!). But in the end, it might be best to just think about what to do Next, instead. And of course, while I'm figuring that out, I'll be making my rubber band ball bigger and bigger - as big as big can get, really, and of course, I'll be making labels.
-dan
email me
So I have to ask myself, what else would I rather be doing? Is there much, really? Considering that I have rent to pay, and credit card bills to pay, and student loans to re-pay, I need a job that pays me well. Which this one does. Jokes on you, General Dynamics! You're paying me to post this! Also, my rubber band ball is almost baseball sized. The day it's cantelope sized is the day I'll be happy. And I guess I'll just a new one if/when that happens.
So yeah, I need to be working, and I might as well be working here, right? Cause being a cashier jockey at borders sure as hell won't pay the bills, you can count on that. And for me to go back to school - well, that would only *increase* the amount of money I have to give to someone else. Working it is then, and you won't find an easier well-paying job than mine.
I was watching HBO and there was this documentary called Born Rich. It was about all these fabulously wealthy, and generally obnoxious, young adults (you know, my age) who are all ridiculously and enormously wealthy. And without a lick of work on their part. The director/narrator was the heir to the Johnson & Johnson fortune. There was some gaming fortune heir (who was the biggest dick, really), and this guy who is heir to both the Whitney and Vanderbilt families. And the movie basically documents how these people (there were, I think, about a dozen rich kids profiled) come to grips with their enormous amount of wealth. Basically, they do so with great difficulty.
Perhaps I missed the entire point of the documentary, which was, I suspect, to demonstrate that rich kids have problems too, and theirs is a life of isolation and drug use, and other crap. Included, mind you, in this "other crap" are billions and billions of dollars. The Whitney/Vanderbilt heir - who was only told about his wealth when he was 12 and his uncle took him to New York's Grand Central Station and told him that the train station effectively belongs to him - made a good case that money or not, he needs to be doing something every day to feel worthwhile. To that end, despite an income well into the six figures that he gets just from being born who he was, he works a job that makes $50,000 a year. The gaming heir/jackass said that he doesn't know what he wants to do in life, but that no matter what, he wants to be "indispensable", like an attorney or buissness man. Christ, I can tell you how important those types of people are.
For me, though, having grown up on the lower side of middle-class my whole life (except for right now, I guess, though my income is still in the lower-middle class bracket, I imagine), there is something almost magical and enchanting about the prospect of just getting $100,000 each and every year. And for doing nothing. Nothing more than being born to a very specific man and woman. Like, if I had even half that, I sure as hell wouldn't be killing time in this law firm making labels, that's for damned sure.
But what would I do? I do agree with the one dude who just needed to work somewhere, to do something. I think it's good to occupy yourself with something aside from episodes of Judge Judy (though, good luck to him actually getting a job these days without his family name). Like I said in my previous post, maybe I'd do cooking school. I mean, why not? Maybe I'd just go back to school and get a masters in... something. Hell, why not a PhD? Well, I can tell you why - b/c that involves a shit load of work. A real, veritable shit load.
Maybe I'd just buy a home in Rome (hey that rhymes!), and live there. Forever, you know. And I'd... I'd wake up, eat something, go out and walk around, eat dinner, pick up drunk american students to take home with me, etc etc. You get the idea. And that would be my life. Every day until I die. No work, to be sure. But is that truly what I want? How do rich people do it?
Ah, and there's the irony. it's like the movie makers and I completely missed each other's points. In that pretend conversation that we haven't actually had. Whereas he (they) couldn't come to grips with the idea of a life of true leisure, I can't come to grips with this idea of a desire to work hard at stuff. We're not puritans anymore people, let's move on with our lives.
But fine, if I had to do something, it probably would be cooking school. If planning my Halloween party taught me but one thing, it would be to not put so much fruit in sangria - especially apples, which were notorious in their ability to soak up the booze. If I learned a second thing, it's that I enjoy providing for others, and hosting, in general. And it's like, being a cook seems a natural enough extension of that. And I could even open up a restaurant, and if it failed? Well, oh well, only got many, many billions more where that came from.
And yet I've seen or heard enough to know that cooking school is *tough*. And it's a lot of work, with the constant threat of losing a finger or two (though, again, being rich, I could afford the best health care, so it's not like I'd even have to worry about that - I could wind up with a bionic thumb!). But you know, sure, that's precisely what I would do - go to cooking school. Probably buy a high-rise condo in Chicago, an apartment in Rome, and the go to cooking school. That would be my life.
And honestly, maybe it could be my life. I have always maintained that my alternate career path (alternate to what, I don't know) is to win the lottery. Sadly, I rarely, rarely play, which makes it difficult to win. Don't need a degree in statistics to tell me that.
No, I know that this is a pipe dream. I know, really. I don't know what my life holds beyond the next few months, but I doubt I'll be coming into any multi-billion dollar inheritance. So I can make all these plans, and decide where to go on holidays. I could even decide where to summer (Smashing! How delightful!). But in the end, it might be best to just think about what to do Next, instead. And of course, while I'm figuring that out, I'll be making my rubber band ball bigger and bigger - as big as big can get, really, and of course, I'll be making labels.
-dan
email me
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