Grey's Journal:
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I joined a gym this week. The man who signed me up for my trial membership (lets call him Ted) wanted to know some things about me before he would give me my pass. "What's your gym experience?" Hmmm. I thought back to the golden days of my freshman year. I, like hundreds of fellow college neophytes, had rushed off to buy a gym pass that first week. My thought process was as follows: This is the dawn of a new phase of my life! Time to do things right! I'm going to the gym! I'm doing my homework the day it's assigned! I'm going to change the world! Ah, the idealism of youth. Sure enough, two months later, my gym pass was lying unused, next to a pile of undone homework, in an unchanged world. I thought over this and answered Ted, "Sporadic." Sporadic sounds a lot better than "Once for two months." Sporadic makes it sound like I squeezed it in between conducting groundbreaking scientific research and bringing food to third world orphans. Then Ted wanted to know, "Would you be comfortable with the equipment in the gym?" I correctly interpreted this question as a thinly veiled challenge to my masculinity. With a casual tone, and a dismissive hand gesture, I replied. "Of course." And so, with no experience, or understanding of how the equipment worked, I began my exercise routine. * * *
Scene: Grey's first day at the gym. A small hallway guards the entrance. Behind a desk sits a 20-something reception girl. Enter Grey from outside. Confidently he walks up to the girl. Grey: I'd like to use the gym today. He hands the girl his pass. She smiles. Enter two guys from outside. They push our hero aside and try to talk their way into the gym without passes. It should be mentioned that Grey is way better looking than either of them. And smarter. And taller. And more financially successful. The receptionist remains strong and denies them entrance. Exit the two guys back outside. Grey takes the opportunity to strike up a conversation. Grey: Does that happen often? Reception Girl: Oh, you wouldn't believe. Our hero now begins the art of small talk. Grey's impressive social skills make this a simple task. Soon, the reception girl is overwhelmed with how suave and charming he is. All goes smoothly until she suddenly stops talking. She looks confused and points at Grey's chest. Reception Girl: Do you know... your shirt... is on inside out? Grey reaches behind his neck to find a tag sticking out. Grey: Oh, umm... hmm... didn't notice that when I was getting dressed... Humbled, Grey exits to the gym. * * *
So I had a bit of a panic attack this week. My efforts to secure a job have so far resulted in nothing. Museums and bookstores far and wide have rejected my application for work. So, in desperation, I turned to the career center of my university. I wasn't expecting much, but even so I was disappointed. It was partly my fault. I went into the meeting with no sense of direction. I sat down across the desk from my advisor, laid out my qualifications and asked what kind of part time work I should look for. "McDonalds?" my advisor suggested. Momentarily stunned, I muttered a disbelieving remark under my breath. "Pardon?" My advisor leaned closer to hear. I reached across the desk, grabbed his tie, pulled him out of his chair, and stabbed him in the neck with my pen. Well... That's what I wanted to do. In reality, I just sat there dumbstruck. Perhaps he sensed my hesitation, so he quickly added: "Or Wal-Mart? Yeah, Wal-Mart always needs people. They have a high turnover rate." Gee, I wonder why? And thus began the great panic attack. McDonalds? Wal-Mart!? Well, if that's the kind of part time work I can get with two college degrees, I swear I'm going out and joining the nearest socialist revolution. Some of the ideas of Karl Marx and Max Weber seemed pretty stupid back in college, but 30 seconds in the waiting room for the real world and I've changed my mind. `From each according to his abilities' right? Sounds like a good deal. Non-alienating, interesting, meaningful work might be worth the trade off of `to each according to his needs'. Of course, ask me in twenty years what I think. By then I'll hopefully be living an upper middle class life: nice house, nice wife, daughters in a good private school, lots of leisure time and cash to spend. Ask me then about redistributing the wealth and I'm sure the first words out of my mouth will be: "Well, socialism is a good idea in theory." Leave a comment, send an email or join my
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Copyright © 2003 Wellington Grey  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
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