Episode 22: Virtually unemployed, I still hate work

Despite the almost daily 'what am I doing with my life' anxiety attack, life after the Item has turned out to be just as glorious as I had imagined. Even though I get up a good 2-3 hours earlier than I did when I worked there, it is still fantastic to open my eyes in the morning and know that I don't have to get up and go to work.

Being tired on your own couch is a hell of a lot better than being tired behind your desk.

In the last six months or so at the Item, in fact, morale was so low and my mindset was so twisted that I would do literally everything I could int he morning to avoid human contact and interaction with my coworkers. This included sitting in my car until the ladies smoking cigarettes at the back door went inside, even if it meant being late for work and pretending to check my voice mail if someone walked by my desk, just so they would leave me alone.

Thinking back, the most absurd thing that I did was take ridiculous, round-about routes to my desk just to avoid having to walk past people. Our office was situated like a horse shoe with a wall in the middle, and all of my department's desks were in a long row on one side of that wall. So, when I came in the back door I would be forced to make the walk of shame past 8 different people, all of whom I was trying not to acknowledge. (It is important to note that the majority of these people were perfectly pleasant to speak to, I was just miserable and had no desire to give anyone the time of day).

To avoid these interactions I took to entering the other side of the building, near the graphics department, where all I had to do was smile, say hello and hope I didn't encounter anyone at the vending machine.This made for some awkward entrances, and probably a lot of curiosity about what the hell I was doing in the other half of the office.

As you can probably ascertain from the above examples, being home has really brightened me up. Knowing I never have to go in to that building, and never have to make that walk again is great, but the honeymoon period at my other job is fading fast, too.

Last weekend, we as a nation celebrated Christopher Columbus' discovery of the new world. We took three days to reflect on his brave journey, and remember how he helped the Native Americans improve their lives by prov- wait. That's not how it goes. Whatever. Small Pocks or no Small Pocks, Americans had a three day weekend and that gave plenty of curious tourists from all over the world an opportunity to descend on Salem, Mass.

Average in every way other than being internationally known as 'that place where they hung witches,' the city of Salem has created an absurdly lucrative tourist industry based entirely on lies and deception. There is nothing haunted in Salem. In fact, many of the events outlined in 'The Crucible' happened in an area that isn't even part of Salem anymore. Nonetheless, the city continues to lie to people and attract them down town for some $4 fried dough, 'mystery ghost tours' and a whole hell of a lot of gift shops and psychics.

For me, your humble neighborhood beertender/ waiter, this means that our normally bustling restaurant was filled to capacity with idiots from all over, irritated that they have dropped so much money on skeleton sweat shirts and tickets to the wax museum, and suffering from low blood sugar that can only make telling them there is an hour wait that much more enjoyable.

When I quit the paper I was excited about picking up more hours at the restaurant. After five days straight of hanging out with a baby, it is nice to go to work and have some 'adult time.' Unlike an office job, I can have fun at this job. I work much of the time with people I am friends with. I can do things I don't get to do when I am home, like smoke cigarettes and get drunk after my shift.

It is still pretty awful dealing with the general public on a daily basis- especially when you are dealing with their food and alcohol, and are as awkward in social settings as I am- but it is a thousand times better than going to HR meetings, putting things together with paper clips and fighting with a copy machine on a daily basis. I have even managed to avoid being awkward with customers, because I realized I can lie to most of them, and pretty much pretend to be someone I am not. That is nice, optimistic, friendly and courteous, and to a few tables on Sunday morning, my name was Patrick.

Yes, things are pretty good as a part-time waiter, I even get $51 health insurance, but all of that changes when it is tourist season.

Tourists are potentially the worst people on the planet. They just invade the city as if people don't live here 12- months a year, taking pictures of the front of your house, ignoring traffic and parking laws, and taking up all of the stools at your favorite corner bar.

For three days I ran around that restaurant. Answering the dumbest of questions like, 'Does the small cheese pizza contain pork?' and explaining (inexplicably) to people the reason for me needing to see their ID's before serving them beer. I even had the pleasure of explaining to one Canadian man that it was still illegal for me to give his 16-year-old son a glass of wine, even though he said it was OK.

Sure, the money was great, and somehow the pain of sore legs and feet and the smell of spilled beer and condiments that covered me gave me a feeling of accomplishment, like I had actually done some hard work for the first time in years. But it also reminded me that no matter what the job is, I am always going to hate work. Always. This brings me back to my idea to use taxpayer money to fund stay at home dads like me. I'm not giving up on this campaign.  It is the only thing that will keep me out of the insane asylum... and a classroom at Everest, or ITT Tech. 

Baer for president in 2012. I'll lead the world in to the apocalypse, and we'll all have a blast before we die.