Well, I’m officially retired.
Finally!
Again.
I’m not sure where we last left off, so let’s do a little recap…
After a month of blissful joy living as a free-spirited weirdo who no longer woke up at a routine hour to attend scheduled events that entailed a punch-clock and the trade of physical/mental energies for digital-fiat-currency-transfers into my bank account, I received a text from my old slave-hole requesting my assistance… The head chef was in desperate (and well-deserved) need of a month-long hiatus… would there be any chance I could fill in for a few shifts in his absence??
With the weather being shittier-than-fuck to work on the boat, I figured maybe it wouldn’t hurt to amass a few extra plastic bucks during the downtime — but I was only gonna agree to the gig on MY terms…
The plan was to demand a non-negotiable cash bonus on top of my wage if they wanted my “expertise.” I rehearsed the spiel in my brain a hundred times before agreeing to anything, telling myself I would not, NOT, ever again be used or manipulated unless it served MY agenda.
LOL, riiiight…
I ended up running into the head chef before he left, and he informed me that I was only needed a day or two per week. Oh. So no big whoop then. No need to demand a bunch of extra cash, I’ll just work a couple days and be a good guy.
The following week I got a schedule… 5 shifts in 6 days, and then another 7 over 9 days to start off. And I absent-mindedly responded with “Should be no problem,” having entirely forgotten to negotiate my signing bonus.
Me so stupid.
I guess the doormat in me is pretty much always on autopilot. Why do I always put other people’s priorities ahead of my own?
Meh.
As the month-long tedium neared its end, my excitement level for boat renos shifted into overdrive — 3 new thru hulls and the window installations were the only items left on the agenda before launch. Woo!
But then, during a casual conversation with my mother where I actually called HER, she reminded me I’d agreed to babysit my dad and the cats, beginning immediately after my last shift at work.
Fuck! How did I forget that?
Okay, so now we’re caught up.
I’m at the parents’ place for a week, which means no boating fun for a bit, so time to do some writing. As I considered turning this piece into a woe-is-me diatribe about being a well-trained, Western-culture doormat, a better philosophical perspective slapped me upside the head…
Fuck the whining about me me me!
Going out of my way to help people in need should be one of my top priorities in life. There’s always gonna be time to get to the things I wanna do, but I may not always have a chance to make a difference in the lives of others if I’m constantly absorbed in my own little selfish world.
Did I have fun at work seeing the residents and staff again? Of course. Would I bend over backwards at the drop of a hat to help my mother if she was in need of anything? Of course. Every time.
Several residents died during the month I was back (no, it wasn’t my cooking, go fuck yourself). It’s a tough thing to get your mind around when you’re used to seeing them everyday. But it makes one realize just how fleeting life really is here on Planet Stupid.
It’s a harsh perspective to realize I literally may be serving someone their very last meal… so why not go above and beyond every chance possible, and make every morsel of food, whether it’s a bologna sandwich or filet mignon, an absolute masterpiece? Why not just straight-up do nice shit for others every single chance I can? That’s the kind o’ attitude we all need to make this insane asylum planet a shitload more magical.
Lemme clarify here — I’m not talking about the douchebags who donate to charity for all the world to recognize what kind of wonderful, philanthropic human marvels they are. Fuck no. I’m talking about engaging in acts of kindness perpetrated with anonymity and absolutely no fanfare. I’m talking about putting the happiness of someone else above the piddly needs of self. I’m talking about doing shit cuz it’s the right thing to do, no whining, no complaining — acts of true love.
So I lost a hundred hours of boat time working in a kitchen serving the elderly. Good for fucking me! No whining required!
So I’m losing a week of boat time taking care of my dad while my mom’s out of town. Good for fucking me! I have the run of a luxurious mansion stocked with food, a balcony that sits in the sun to write material for the new book, and provide peace of mind, to the person who brought me into the world, that 3 out of 6 cats won’t be dead or starving upon her return. Awesome.
[Editor’s Note: You didn’t mention anything about preventing electrical fires. Do you even know where the fire extinguishers are??]
[Mike’s Note: Fuck off! You’re making me paranoid. Who the fuck hired you??]
The emotional outcome of whatever game we’re currently playing always comes down to how it’s coloured by our ego-distorted, subjective perspective. We all know this experientially to be a 100% accurate assessment, but continually allow ourselves to fall into ruts and routines that cloud our brains to the greatest superpower we have — the ability to choose, and the ability to find greatness and opportunity in whatever outcomes arise from our decisions.
So let’s wind this post down with a bunch of quotes from smarty-pants people, and ruminate on the simplicity of looking at each of our personal trials with lenses that observe simultaneously from angles other than the this-ain’t-fair-myopia we’ve grown sadly accustomed to…
“Most of the things I worried about in life never happened.”
— Mark Twain
“Ask yourself a question… will this matter a year from now?”
— Richard Carlson
“Don’t sweat the small stuff. And it’s all small stuff.”
— David Lee Roth
“Flowers don’t worry about how they’re going to bloom, they just open up and turn toward the light, and that makes ’em beautiful.”
— Jim Carrey
Mull a few of those over the next time you feel like shit’s goin’ south — especially if you’re a server at Harbour Hill, lol. (No one is washing the mop head at night to intentionally piss you off! Nor are they stacking plates above the magic marker indicator on the shelf in the hope of causing you a brain aneurism at 6 AM! Not everyone is as wonderfully astute and proficient as yourself, so don’t get worked up over trivial nonsense, we’re all gonna be dead soon. Lighten the fuck up!)
The assholes who are happier being miserable are a dime a dozen. Fuck being like them. Take your challenges as they come, and find the opportunities buried within them. You’ll have a lot more fun with your day, and you may even realize that although doormats may get muddy from time to time, most of them exist to WELCOME opportunity…
[Editor’s Note: That’s the worst fucking analogy I’ve ever read!]
[Mike’s Note: Lol, I know! But it’s a brilliant segue to our final anecdote, so fuck off…]
Dutch Fishing Boy Tales, Journal Entry #627:
Dear Diary,
My buddy Mike is coming over in half an hour, but I still gotta get the grass cut so my mom doesn’t get pissed off at me, especially after that last fiasco when I said I’d take out the garbage, but I forgot to do it for like 16 days or something, I can’t remember…
I’m gonna get high as fuck first, and crank out some death metal tunes loud enough for comatose people to hear at the hospital. It’s gonna be awesome!
Oh fuck.
Umm, I was just finishing, and I crossed the walkway to the neighbour’s apartment. I totally smoked their welcome mat. It blew out the side of the mower like a group of angry birds trying to escape the pits of hell.
FLOOOMP!!
Shit, I gotta remember that word when I tell Mike this story…
FLOOOMPHH!!
He came over and said we should just find the pieces and put it back together, and no one would notice.
We did our best.
But now it just says CUM.