I called in "sick" to work today. The circumstances which led to this fine exercise of employee rights are various and somewhat humorous, but better left to be written about after I've had a couple of beers. Needless to say I was in no mood to spend this glorious day cooped up at a crappy animal shelter. For the past couple weeks, I've thought about calling in "sick" each morning while I sip coffee. Every previous time, I'd pushed aside the thought with feelings of responsibility. Today though I had a breakthrough.
Last night I was duped into fostering a little puppy for the evening. Usually other people at work take the puppies home for the night. I have no use for puppies, especially puppies interrupting my leisure time. I was assured that this little she-devil-bitch-of-a-terrier puppy slept peacefully through the night and would be little more trouble than setting out water and walking until it peed.
I was lied to. This spawn of the devil kept me awake the entire night yipping and trying to escape it's kennel. I ended up going into the spa attached to our house at two AM, finding the room farthest from our bedroom, dragging the puppy kennel into the room, plopping down on the ground with the damn thing, and trying to keep the hellion quiet.
Needless to say, I was in no mood to work today. As soon as it got light, I drove that damn dog back to the animal shelter, put it in my bosses office, and left a note on the desk informing her that I was unable to make it into work today.
Man, I got one very angry phone call when the office opened...It was your standard "you need to be more responsible, etc" spiel that one could expect. A combination of attempted guilting and prioritize employment in your life. It just so happened that I got the phone call as I was driving along this stretch of road along the Atlantic Ocean, a sailboat was running along with a fresh breeze several miles out. I had to roll my eyes, politely inform my boss that I indeed would not be making it into work today, and continue on with my day as planned.
I read this book in California called, "The Art of Vagabonding". The main thrust of the author's philosophy was that the one truly finite resource in one's life is TIME. And the most responsible choice a person can make is to spend one's time wisely and in pursuit of your true desires. Today, the best use of my time is to nap off the memory of that stupid puppy, eat a massive breakfast, buy my wife a birthday present, walk along the wharf staring at the schooners, and then have a beer in honor of my wife's 25th birthday tomorrow.
Cheers.
2 comments:
Ben,
Be aware of tech savvy employers who use blogs, social networks, etc. to quietly discern who is getting over on them. Why is it a "crappy" shelter? What could you do to improve it so it isn't crappy? I started with the City before you stopped playing with Thundercats. I am still amazed at the network of people who respect me due to habits I demonstrated when I was working a "crappy" job sucking out sewer lines to support my family. That work ethic established back then serves me well today. Right now I'm sitting in my own office (Tyler is here eating his lunch) and nobody questions what I am doing.
Of all the crappy jobs I have worked, I have found that God will put you where he wants you in his time.
Manual labor is honorable work. My writing professor talked a lot about that. You wouldn't diss Grandpa Caywood because he fixed forklifts for Kroger.
You are a good writer, why don't you concentrate on submitting articles in your spare time. If you can break through, there is no better satisfaction than knowing you did it the right way.
John,
I'm not ragging on manual labor. I'm trying to land a labor intensive job on a fishing or charter boat. The only job experience that matters trying to land a job on a boat is experience on a boat. It seems to follow, to me, that spending one's days in an unrelated field is a poor use of time.
I guess I'm not overly worried about an employer reading through my blogs. I'd say approximately three people read these missives, almost as many that still read paper newspapers.
I would consider a job 'crappy' if it doesn't further my goals in life, or sufficiently reimburse me for my time/troubles.
I would contend that there are many paths to writing. My most productive writings come from spending afternoons in a smoky bar, Neil Young in the background, beer on the left hand side, coffee on the right, and an ashtray next to my notebook. I think some people spend a life time saying what they're gonna do, and then some people take the leap and just do it. I guess that I'm the type of person who uses my occupation to fuel my writing. Running a bar was good for my writing, working at an animal shelter was bad. Consider it a variance of Gonzo-style writing. I'm gearing up for the day when I can simply exist and fund it all with writing or sailing.
I would say that there is no singular path to getting truly published($1/word), but a realization that that is the GOAL at the end of the day is a big first step.
Until that day, I will consider all other jobs as temporary diversions.
Cheers,
Ben
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