I fought “the man” and “the man” won

I fought “the man” and “the man” won. Today for the first time in five years I started a job. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had jobs…just not a job job. You know the kind of job that has a human resource department, 401k pamphlets, and a security guard that stares at you as if to say “what the hell you lookin at…punk?” I got a badge with my name on a piece of tape…below the name it has the word temporary. I didn’t know if that represented the badge or me, oh the irony. I walked through the security door and saw the mass of people that seemed to fill the room like little worker bees. One guy sipping a cup of coffee. One girl listening to a story then ending it with fake laughter. One guy walking down the hall trying to avoid eye contact with me. This is a whole new world for me.

I make my way to the room filled with new employees. Everyone looks around and sizes each other up. It’s definitely a complete mix of personalities. There is the classic ass kisser, the know-it-all, the over achiever, the slacker, and the completely lost. The question is…which one am I. Probably a solid mixture of all of them. After an hour of new hire jargon they started into our training. Nothing too complicated, just a lot of information. I know this sounds strange but I just felt out of place. It’s like I stepped into the wrong class but didn’t have the courage to walk out and find the right one. The thing is, I’m confident I’ll be successful over the long haul. I won’t be the best but I’ll be better than average. I might even pull employee of the month or something on par. I’ll probably call Jill and be genuinely excited. Then I’ll say something like, “Jill let’s go to Olive Garden to celebrate. (pause) No no, they gave me a 25 dollar gift certificate. I know, it’s good to be the EoM.”

There is nothing wrong with success, nothing wrong with making money, nothing wrong with trying to be a great employee. But for me I found one major draw back. It came to me on my drive home. I was stuck in rush hour and the rain was pouring down. I was thinking about my day and trying to replay the information. I was trying to retain as much as I could. There were cars wall to wall and then it happened. I started to dream. Simple, perfect dreams. Stuff nobody else cares about, but I do. As I sat in my truck I started to get a lump in my throat because it leads to an obvious question. Wasn’t I meant for something more than this? Wasn’t I meant for more than pushing products and up-selling warranties? That is a hard question because maybe I ask with too much pride. Maybe I wasn’t…maybe this is it…that is what makes the lump in my throat so hard to swallow. I have passion but that doesn’t pay the bills. The problem with being a dreamer is that you always see the world the way that it should be and not the way that it is. And when the world tells you the way things are it doesn’t seem fair. I’m forced to be a realist in a dreamer’s body and it doesn’t feel good.

I feel like that girl in the movies. You know the one…it’s the girl that was born in a small town and only knew about country living. One day she caught an image of New York City and became obsessed with the desire to experience this magical way of living. She saw people every where, 24 hour restaurants, and unique fashions she wanted to try on. But you know the story, her parents were too poor and couldn’t afford to send her. In fact her whole community was so poor that nobody ever left that town. Everyone was born there, worked there, and died there. People around her were satisfied with continuing the cycle and didn’t see the need to rock the boat. But not this girl, she never let go of the image. Then one day while working for her parents she came to the conclusion, “I may have to work the fields today and I may have to work the fields tomorrow, but you mark my words, I’m getting the hell out of this town.” And she wasn’t satisfied until it happened. All she ever did was work and save…work and save. The day had finally come and she had all the money she needed. And in dramatic fashion she hops into a rusty beat up truck and starts driving east. The sunset hasn’t yet cleared the horizon but a tear streams down her face. That was the day that the realist became a dreamer. So here is my resolution, I may not have meaning today and I may not find it tomorrow, but someday I’m getting the hell out of this town. Someday my life will mean for something more than this.