Taking Stock of Myself...
I received a most interesting phone message the other day. An old friend is apparently starting up a company which does team building through improvisation as well as corporate murder mystery events. I would be a backup in case he or his partner were unavailable to attend a particular job. The pay is very good for just a few short hours of work, they anticipate. This is actually something I have experience with. I did improv in NYC for several years, and periodically was a part of the murder mystery set while in college. Honestly, for years this is exactly the kind of phone call I always hoped to get. Easy money, time in the spotlight, start-up company, room to grow. My response? Not interested.
I'm learning an awful lot about myself these days. I don't know if age is setting in, or if I simply have the acting bug out of my system, but I just don't want any more work. I don't want stage work. I don't want regular job work. I just want to sit and drink coffee (before noon) or beer (after noon) and write. Now, admittedly, I rather like my 'day job', serving fresh food to the locals in one of the more posh (or so in considers itself) neighborhoods of North metro Atlanta. I have 4 shifts, 5 if I'm covering for my wife as I am now. This might seem like a standard work load, but it's honestly the least amount of hours I've worked since I was first hired by McDonald's my senior year of high school. And I am fine with it. Part of me feels selfish, like I'm walling myself in on purpose, not extending myself to help out where I normally would. Part of me, the poor whelp from the great white North, is sickly fascinated and even remotely horrified at the amount of lucrative offers I have turned down lately. For so many years, I became conditioned to take any job that came along, even if I had to shoehorn it in among 2 or 3 others. Bills don't pay themselves, I might have said through my actions. It is not an unfounded concern, given my life. Shortly after I left Michigan, so did the last of the GM plants. Shortly after arriving in NYC, the towers fell. Shortly after relocating to Atlanta, the economy bottomed out. I'm not glib and neurotic enough to blame myself for these disasters, but I have developed a severe 'get it while it's dangling there' mentality. At least, I though I had. Perhaps I just feel confident for once that the work I have is steady and secure and sufficient to cover my needs. Even writing these words feels odd to me. Could this be the surmising be something like akin to those of the fabled 'other half'? Only time will tell, I suppose. For now, this workhorse is finding new found contentment in simply hitting the hay.
I'm learning an awful lot about myself these days. I don't know if age is setting in, or if I simply have the acting bug out of my system, but I just don't want any more work. I don't want stage work. I don't want regular job work. I just want to sit and drink coffee (before noon) or beer (after noon) and write. Now, admittedly, I rather like my 'day job', serving fresh food to the locals in one of the more posh (or so in considers itself) neighborhoods of North metro Atlanta. I have 4 shifts, 5 if I'm covering for my wife as I am now. This might seem like a standard work load, but it's honestly the least amount of hours I've worked since I was first hired by McDonald's my senior year of high school. And I am fine with it. Part of me feels selfish, like I'm walling myself in on purpose, not extending myself to help out where I normally would. Part of me, the poor whelp from the great white North, is sickly fascinated and even remotely horrified at the amount of lucrative offers I have turned down lately. For so many years, I became conditioned to take any job that came along, even if I had to shoehorn it in among 2 or 3 others. Bills don't pay themselves, I might have said through my actions. It is not an unfounded concern, given my life. Shortly after I left Michigan, so did the last of the GM plants. Shortly after arriving in NYC, the towers fell. Shortly after relocating to Atlanta, the economy bottomed out. I'm not glib and neurotic enough to blame myself for these disasters, but I have developed a severe 'get it while it's dangling there' mentality. At least, I though I had. Perhaps I just feel confident for once that the work I have is steady and secure and sufficient to cover my needs. Even writing these words feels odd to me. Could this be the surmising be something like akin to those of the fabled 'other half'? Only time will tell, I suppose. For now, this workhorse is finding new found contentment in simply hitting the hay.
posted by Master of None at 11:13 PM
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