Bartending Ramblings: I’m Fucking Lazy!
I’ll admit it. What my dad says about me is true. I am really fucking lazy. Epically lazy. And I am completely shameless about it.
For a long time, I tried to convince myself that my lack of a serious job or direction in life was a result of confusion, a result of having too many decisions and options in front of me. For a while, I thought it was chronic fatigue syndrome, maybe even mild narcolepsy. The truth is, I’m just lazy. If it were up to me, I would sleep, eat, have sex, and lie on the beach all day. Actually, I would probably just sleep all day.
I suck at the jobs I do. I get fired a lot. It’s not the boss. It’s me. Since my first day of work when I was 15, I have hated every minute I have ever spent working. Sure, I graduated top of my class in college. But that’s because I actually wanted to do the work. I liked it.
If you’re a lazy mother fucker like me, it’s vitally important to only do things you want to do. It took me years of doing nothing to figure out that the accessories to a lazy life style- hanging out in bars, sleeping until 3pm, drinking booze, bullshitting with other unemployed weirdos, can actually result in employment.
Bartending is the ultimate job for lazy people. You get to drink at work, hang out, make money every night (lazy people love instant gratification), and all you really have to do is take a shower and sling some bottles around. Seriously. A retarded ten year old could do my job.
My dad spent thirty years in a job that he hated, he spent 30 years in a miserable marriage, and is probably going to die of an occupationally contracted disease. And this mother fucker wants to give me advice, critique my life, and call me a directionless loser? Whatever Mr. Miserable! I’m going partying.
My boyfriend, family, and friends often tell me they think that I am living below my potential- that I’m a world beater and ought to be out there catalyzing social change or banking tons of money. The truth is, I don’t give a shit about money, and I stopped caring about politics/society writ large years ago. That doesn’t mean nothing in life turns me on. Sipping coffee every morning at my neighborhood coffee shop, taking motorcycle rides out to the coast, drinking wine with the people I love, having a killer crazy boozey night at my favorite bar surrounded by entertaining people… that’s what turns me on. My job enables me. It doesn’t define me.
