October 27, 2009

The Shine of Golden Handcuffs


When I reflect on what I wanted to be 5 or 6 years ago, and where I am now...things certainly veered a touch. I never was a wild one, or even remotely interesting on that front, but still...police? Really? After bouncing from elementary school teacher to here, while it hasn't been a jagged line, full of wild anecdotes about strife or loss. I got middling meandering. That I have. But still, to be here now instead of in another year teaching just seems strange. And where I landed, this isn't a job anyone would ever strive for. No child growing up in America says to himself, someday, I'm gonna push paper for the po-lice. Nope.

Funny how many jobs there are that are like that, too that wind up being careers. Life's work in doing some menial, yet essential thing. And I always wonder how people reconcile that with what they wanted...how are they able to let go? Or, maybe, jobs like mine is where people without plans wind up. Just adrift out there and their little balloon of life gets hung up in a corner, so there it nestles in for as long as the helium will let it because there is as good a place as anywhere else.

All this is on my mind today because I endured a new-employee orientation session with what I believe to be an honest-to-god motivational speaker who said, when he left, "I'll see you on the flip flop," which sounds funny from a 64 year old. At this event, they talked about a lot of planning for retirement, and one person chimed in that they knew of someone who had retired after 40 years in parking enforcement. Writing tickets for 40 years. A lot of helium in that balloon...or maybe the person just loved pissing off people, I don't know. Those kind of folk exist. But, this gig here, in all it's splendid mediocrity, so long as the technology doesn't make me obsolete, could, maybe be a career. Maybe. Not the best choice I made, but if we're talking solely money wise...I'm doing about as good as I would be teaching elementary school...and it's less dangerous (I got some bullet-resistant glass where I'm at now). Oh, these golden, golden handcuffs.

All this isn't some round about way to say I'm unhappy. Like I said, I got 300 more dollars in my paycheck and I never have to listen to old ladies and their foul pooping ever again (I don't think). What's to be unhappy about, right? Well, there's this information I suppose, that's enough to give a person the heebie jeebies about the world outside (punch in your address...while only select cities provide criminal data, you could still look up the sex offenders in your area here).

This is a `round about way of saying, "So, this is where I am now. Hm. How about that shit? Didn't see this coming. What the hell am I doing now in order to do something next, if there even has to be a next?"

viva el mustache

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