Remember when you were a horny teenage boy and all you could think about was getting into a strip club to see some big fake hooters? Me either.
Stick with me here because I swear I have a point.
Since the early 90’s Tom Hanks got us to believe that ‘life is like a box of chocolates’- so precious. I don’t want to discredit the disabled magic that is Forrest Gump, but I’ve reworked the phrase a bit.
I think life- in particular, work life- is much more like a strip club. We spend so much time putting mediocre events on a pedestal, only to be sourly disappointed by a lady covered in glitter who looks like your old librarian.
In case you haven’t noticed by now, I’m a bit of a cynic. I’m sure you’d rather tell your kids about chocolate than whores, but let’s be real- they’re both bad for you.
Think back to senior year- how many times did you say it was going to be the best year ever? …was it? I don’t know about you, but I spent the “best year ever” ditching 6th period and smoking doobies in my 96 Nissan, praying for it to be over.
Every fucking year at least one of my friends tries to put together some big New Years Eve bash and every year I say no. As much as I’d love to over pay for a dress I’ll wear once and ride around town in a bus that smells like last night’s prom vomit, I always opt for an early night at home in the tub. And don’t even get me started on New Years resolutions. Making a list of goals you can’t accomplish is basically the same thing as going to a titty bar solo. Don’t do that to yourself.
What about the long awaited trip to Disneyland you’ve been dreaming of? That romantic vacation to the Bahamas? Please do not lets those Sandals resort commercials fool you. You will be surrounded by obese people, you will spend most of the day waiting in line for things, and the chances of your kid spending some quality one on one time with Mickey Mouse are slim to none. That stripper is not taking you into a private room to tell you how much she likes you. You were warned.
I find that this phrase comes into play most at work. I know very few people who have a job that they like, let alone their dream job. I have been lucky enough to follow a few of my fleeting passions, and I know I am not alone when I say I’ve been thoroughly let down a time or two. So often we are looking for a mentor, some guidance, or even just a warm welcoming environment to lead us into the new world of dream employment. Instead you end up at desk with someone else’s tissues left in the drawers, a boss that hasn’t finished community college, and are stuck next to some mouth breather who scrolls through pictures of anime shit instead of working. Am I getting too personal here?
I think to some extent you know I’m right- things aren’t always what they seem.
So, dear boy, with a pocket stuffed full of dollar bills, proceed with caution, because the fantasy you’ve built up in your head may not be all you’ve dreamed of. Behind those glorious tinted windows lies a dingy dark room with $5 day old steaks and sad looking girls with dad issues and love handles.
Isn’t that just the way life goes?