Look. I get it. The economy sucks ass. It’s terrifying to be jobless. Discovering that the world actually CAN revolve without you is a blow to anyone’s ego. Trust me, I know.
And yes, the financial aspects are horrifying. It’s hard to watch the balance on your savings account drop. It sucks to feel guilty about buying a lunch out (or a pitcher of beer if you have your priorities straight).
I have a whole mess o’ loved ones between gigs at the moment, so we’ve been talking about these issues quite a bit (over pitchers of beer – because, as mentioned previously, I have my priorities straight). So far, not a one of them seems able to stop and smell the foam head. (Roses are out of season, after all.)
But here’s the secret, Interwebz. It doesn’t have to be all bad.
Take it from me, the MASTER of unemployment. You WILL get another job someday. (Don’t you shake that head at me. I believe in you!) And when you get that other job your going to say, “Damn. Where did that time go? That’s the longest vacation I’ve had in years and I spent the whole time fretting and reorganizing my hard drive.”
So here’s my preachy coaching tip for you, my little muffins. (And yes, muffin is totally slang for vagina. Hi Mom!!) Think back to when you were working full time, trapped in your fluorescent-lit cube farm (or execu office, or Mac truck). Now try and remember what it was you used to daydream about while you were trapped to your desk (or backhoe, or operating table). I used to imagine escaping to a sidewalk cafe on a quiet side street with a good book and an ice cold pint of beer. Maybe you pined to see a movie in the middle of the day or spend an afternoon baking chocolate yumminess. (Side bar, if you daydream about baking, call me. I like eating baked good. Win-win.)
Fast forward back to reality where you’re unemployed again. Now how many times have you done that thing you used to daydream about? Mmmmhmmm, that’s what I thought. (I’m looking at you with both stern disapproval and intense compassion, FYI. Also, you can’t tell from my typing, but my hair looks really nice today.)
Well Interwebz, that glass isn’t going to blow itself. (I’m assuming at least one of you always wanted to take a glass blowing class. Also I was worried this post might end up with a paragraph that lacked a parenthetical aside. Crisis averted.) So get out there and drink that pitcher of beer (or start a blog, or crochet your own gimp). You can send out those resumes once Happy Hour is over.
Disclaimer: If your workday fantasy was to sprint to the nearest Porsche dealership, buy the latest model, then cover yourself in gold leaf and vaseline before driving to the country and buying an alpaca farm, you should probably ignore this post entirely because a) whoa, dude and b) I’m talking about an extravagance that costs $20 or less.
As for you lucky stiffs enjoying the spoils of a regular job, there’s nothing to say you can’t knock off early one afternoon and play a little hooky yourselves. I’d even put down my paperback and split a pitcher of beer with you. (Unless the paperback was Twilight. Because that’s a little hard to set down. Not that I’ve read it multiple times. Or, you know, ever. Say, we’re supposed to be talking about you, here. Look a pony!)
But if you’re just playing hooky and still gainfully employed, you should pop for the pitcher. You should also probably buy me an alpaca for my birthday. Or this little tiny gilded giraffe that I want so badly.