Thursday, August 30, 2012

It's Time to Pursue a Career in Not Working

This summer was educational. I learned a lot about myself, my likes and dislikes. It turns out, I do not care for working. I do like doing whatever I want whenever I want.

I learned this the hard way. I started out working at a summer camp. There I could only do a few things I wanted to do (play sports and have children entertain me) but I also - most absurdly - was obligated to stay there all day and be responsive to the children's needs. Ooooo, pay attention to me! Oooooo, give me a snack! Ooooooo, let me out of this cage! God, go away, already! What a drag. If this is what work is, than I want no part of it. I'd love to play a game of kickball and then hear an 8-year-old sing Adele's "Rumor Has It" at the camp talent show, but right afterward, I want to peel out of the parking lot in the Camry and do whatever I want whenever I want.

Next I worked at the race track at Saratoga. I had mornings off. This taught me a valuable lesson: I like mornings free and all other times free, too. I could read, journal, take a walk - whatever I wanted. Then 11 ocklock rolled around, and I had to go to work, and it was STUPID. I didn't like one single un-leisure-like minute of it. I'd be sitting there trying to read my book, when some jerk would come up and rudely interrupt me just so he could bet on a race. Do you not see the book in my hand and the look of utter adolescent-styled contempt on my face? I could hardly get any reading done at all there, so what was the point of even being there? And, as with the summer camp, I couldn't leave for several hours. If I wanted to go to a prison camp, I'd travel back in time and piss off a soviet official in Stalin's Russia.* Historical reference burn!

So, what to do with this information? Clearly, I need to stop working immediately and start spending time doing whatever the heck I feel like doing. I'm not sure why this didn't occur to me before. I have to blame my parents and the schools for never encouraging me to pursue a career as an aristrocratic loafer. How could they have possibly believed I would want to do work for a living? Didn't they know that I would much perfer to spend my time playing kickball with friends and taking long, rambling walks while having all of my financial needs covered by my massive inheritence? It's irresponsible of them, frankly, allowing me to take on all of this responsibility. Thankfully, I came to this counclusion before I foolishly worked another day in my life. I've finally found my true calling: someone who does nothing. It feels good. I can't wait to get started!

As a Man of Leisure, I will look something like this:



So beautiful!


*Wow, what kind of jerk compares his First World job to a prison camp? Obscene!