Monday, October 21, 2013

A college graduate pushing baskets

            As the sun beams down on my neck, and my camouflage hat protects my scalp, my fatigue, is exhausted, worn out by the sun as I sweat and work my ass. I collect the baskets, gather a row of 10. The life of working in a parking lot is as humble as Jesus being a carpenter and frustrating; possibly frustrating due to the physical demands, the wear and tear it does to one’s body. The constant replenish, the constant need to eat, the constant want for food, the little pay that doesn’t match the appetite. The want for more out of life, but such a humble job cannot support such a complex life. Wanting to work more hours but not able to push eight hours, everyday, in a hot sun, pushing baskets, loading heavy items everyday, dripping in sweat and the sweat rolling in your eye stinging your cornea. 

My drenched back outlined in white, my constant need of having to use the restroom and always wanting more to eat; having to control my appetite because one day, my body will not need such an extreme calorie count. The countless nights when I close, I see people laughing and smiling, going to Benihana, having a good time and enjoying life; the wishing I was in that guys shoes, the one who’s leaving the restaurant with a to-go bag. The angry look on his face, the distance between him and what looks like a beautiful girl; the quiet couple arrive to a car drenched in her perfume and his cologne. Greeted by an alarm, they open the doors to a blacked out Mercedes. I shake my head and think I don’t want that, that distance between you and another, I don’t  want to be on multiple dates because I can’t find the right girl because my spoils in life have turned me into a douche bag; I don’t want that. What I want is what that couple has.

            I collect my row of baskets and see a guy and his girl, surrounded by their friends, laughing and having a good time, intoxicated off of food, alcohol and love; by the laughter and the intoxication, you can tell that the night is still very young for them. I somewhat have what the intoxicated friends couple has, just need to combine it with the douche bag money. Funny as I think about all the different people coming out of the restaurant, I forget, I know none of these people, I don’t know there story, their background, I don’t know shit. All I see is Benihana, people leaving and smiling, arriving and smiling; I see a positive environment. The thousands of people I cross in that parking lot, yet I don’t know what’s behind that smile. 

My job: pushing baskets has its demining moments. Our customers, oh some of our lovely customers want to treat us as servants as if they own us; give us attitude and some give insulting tips; money were not suppose to accept even though we say, “I’m sorry company policy---- and shove the dollar in my hand; I’ve learned to shut-up and take it. Working in that parking lot, when coming across shitty hours, you learn that saving your tips come in handy when you get a check that may last you for about three days. In my situation, there’s more good than bad; the bad customers just stand out. When all of my good customers show up on one day, my work day is great. Even some of the good customers ignore the no tip policy and I’m ok with that; there good people and treat me, treat us lot associate like were human, not some sweaty walking, talking piece of shit. 

We hold conversation, crack jokes, get to know one another, you become incorporated in their lives, you become a person, someone they acknowledge and someone you don’t mind serving. The job has it good perks, but NO WAY in hell would I stay, or would I want to stay in such a position. Someday, I want a family of my own, some day, I want to go to a restaurant and don’t have to use coupons; there’s nothing wrong with coupons, I think there a good addition to shopping and helping save money but I think everyone agrees when I say that, tax season is probably the one season coupons are not used as much because everyone has a limp wrist (Inside Joke if a certain someone ever reads this) everyone is ballin’ everyone’s budget is slightly different; it’s adjusted to your new found wealth. I push baskets with an MBA. It’s not my choice; it was probably my lifestyle shock change. It took me ten years to achieve that goal. Why ten years? Well, if I look back at my past I have no regrets. =)  I had a mother who supported me in everything I did. I wanted to become a English major, music major, switched to science, switched to business, went back to English, wanted to be an actor, I played in a band called Wooddena, I wrote screen plays (still do) I wanted everything the world offered me….but always stuck to school. I finally settled in and realized marketing was my goal; I achieved that goal June 15th 2013 at 4:15 p.m.; I went on that stage, got my “fake diploma” and it was over in seconds.

I spent 10 years of my life for that one moment and I finally achieved it; now here comes the shock. The unprepared/prepared Dean Martin caught in this limbo period of life. I’m caught somewhere between network marketing and Sam’s Club; I’m stuck in my dream of wanting to be a clothing designer, I’m stuck in a good plan but for some reason, my gears aren’t shifting correctly. The way I had it mapped out, by now, September 30th,2013, Sam’s Club was suppose  to be an option of staying. It still is, and I still haven’t given up. The dawn of 2014 is near and I think I realized my plan has failed. Failure is good in my eyes. Honestly, the plan hasn’t failed, I just need to polish up some ideals and come to a realistic angle; my plan, created a year and a half before I graduated, has changed because my life has changed; certain alleys have opened up. 

I hope this post didn’t come out as being dark. I guess there are some dark undertones. If I had given up, this story, this write would have a different twist. It wouldn’t be me; it would be the suicide story, the drug route or maybe the going crazy and shooting up some random place. I choose not because I’m strong. I can push a row of 110 baskets which feels like pushing a small car. What I’ve learned when I began to feel tired: Breathe, let the oxygen fuel my muscles, let the adrenaline kick in and get that shit done! The same strategy used in life…..pushing baskets, how such a simple job can solve some of the complexity’s in life.  


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