So...
...you think to yourself (and not for the first time, believe me!), the pre-Christmas season has been such a blur for so many years and what a stoopid way to make a living. You wonder, how in the hell can I convince, or make see, to those folk around me, just how f***in' hard I am working and why I am a crabby, miserable bastard when I finally get home? You think of various ways to explain that copious amounts of beer are necessary, in order to quickly wash away the day, ease the ache in the bones and put out the fire. All the while, begging your battered liver to hang in there..."C'mon, little buddie, you can do it...you are made of stronger stuff than that!"
For the most part, I am happy and content that I have a pretty good paying job - for a guy who dropped out of high school to be a rock star. By "pretty good paying", I mean I will never drive a Maserati (well, unless some idiot leaves it running while he pops into the 7-11 for smokes and I just happen to saunter by) but, it has provided a roof over my family's heads and kept the whole child-raising stage alive, if not for the most part well.
And then, as the evening winds down, yawning becoming a more frequent occurrence and my mind settling back into what is real, I think, "You sir, are a pretty lucky guy." Did I have to work in the coal mines of Silesia today? Did I have to labour in a sweat shop in Bangladesh? Did I have to clean toilets in a McDonalds in downtown Chicago?
One day, fingers crossed, it can't be too far off ("Karen! For god's sake, I ain't getting any younger!), I will do as Bobby Orr did and realize that I "can't play no longer" and retire. In similar fashion, I hope they hoist my Purolator jersey with my employee number from the rafters of the depot... Ha! Ha! Gawd that is funny! Chances of that are slim to...
None-the less, we must remain hopeful, mustn't we?
The second in a series... not quite a rant but, well...whatever
In keeping with a recent theme, 'Don't Give Up' - Peter Gabriel (with Kate Bush)...such a great tune!
So...
...you think to yourself (and not for the first time, believe me!), the pre-Christmas season has been such a blur for so many years and what a stoopid way to make a living. You wonder, how in the hell can I convince, or make see, to those folk around me, just how f***in' hard I am working and why I am a crabby, miserable bastard when I finally get home? You think of various ways to explain that copious amounts of beer are necessary, in order to quickly wash away the day, ease the ache in the bones and put out the fire. All the while, begging your battered liver to hang in there..."C'mon, little buddie, you can do it...you are made of stronger stuff than that!"
For the most part, I am happy and content that I have a pretty good paying job - for a guy who dropped out of high school to be a rock star. By "pretty good paying", I mean I will never drive a Maserati (well, unless some idiot leaves it running while he pops into the 7-11 for smokes and I just happen to saunter by) but, it has provided a roof over my family's heads and kept the whole child-raising stage alive, if not for the most part well.
And then, as the evening winds down, yawning becoming a more frequent occurrence and my mind settling back into what is real, I think, "You sir, are a pretty lucky guy." Did I have to work in the coal mines of Silesia today? Did I have to labour in a sweat shop in Bangladesh? Did I have to clean toilets in a McDonalds in downtown Chicago?
One day, fingers crossed, it can't be too far off ("Karen! For god's sake, I ain't getting any younger!), I will do as Bobby Orr did and realize that I "can't play no longer" and retire. In similar fashion, I hope they hoist my Purolator jersey with my employee number from the rafters of the depot... Ha! Ha! Gawd that is funny! Chances of that are slim to...
None-the less, we must remain hopeful, mustn't we?
The second in a series... not quite a rant but, well...whatever
In keeping with a recent theme, 'Don't Give Up' - Peter Gabriel (with Kate Bush)...such a great tune!