truth is trickiest

Absentminded Prose, Poetry & Philosophical Musings.

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Why Complaining Is an Indicator of Luxury

It’s a sure sign: complaining means I’ve satisfied my basic requirements for happiness, and have room to complain about nonsense.

So, when I’m bitching about customers, it’s only because I no longer have to worry about being broke and depressed… which is pretty damn awesome. How ironic that the thing that makes me happy (hard fucking work) is also the thing that I’d most like to avoid—the thing I avoided for so long this year.

It reminds me of a Dumbledore quote: “Humans do have a knack for choosing precisely those things which are worst for them” (Sorcerer’s Stone 215).

But it’s true.  I chose to be a bum for such a long time… I tried so many things half-heartedly, and felt like I was in limbo.  Now, I love getting off work and having a few hours to spend indulgently, guilt-free.  I finally feel like I deserve to relax. And I’m happier.  I laugh more.  Music sounds more beautiful and multifaceted.  Opportunities seem more prevalent.  I feel the urge to hug again.

I was drowning in an abyss before: no money, nowhere to go, no one to spend time with who was also available (or so it seemed—time passes differently for the unemployed).  Now, I have money.  I have time off that feels good.

I paid for my happiness with my freedom, but it seems to be going okay.  I wonder if now I just define “freedom” differently.

After all, how free are you if you can’t go anywhere or do anything?

I will never be unemployed again. Even if I become self-employed, I will NEVER let myself stop working.  It’s a trap.

It felt like I’d chewed my own arm off when I first got my jobs in October.  But let me tell you, this new freedom is sweet.  Who needs an arm when you’re going to die in a trap?

I’m just saying… customers can be bitches when they know you have to be nice to them… but the annoyance I feel pales in comparison to the desperation I felt when I avoided them completely.  And I do kind of feel good being nice to someone who is a complete bitch.  It’s fake, but there’s a charming smugness to it that’s kind of fun.

One of my fellow partners (Amir) said something to me the other day that really resonated with me: “Remember, T-dawg,” he said.  ”The meanest people have the shittiest lives.”  

And it’s true.  I can afford to be nice to a bitch, because I have enough happiness not to be a bitch myself anymore.

ANYWAY, that’s all for now. ;)

Filed under barista work complaints rant rationalizing justification thoughts

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