An Elitist* Rant

In the harsh light of a particularly bad day, I've decided that I got a raw deal in the life department. No, not in terms of the healthy, able-bodied, good family, roof-over- my-head kind of way, but in the i-did-the-right-thing-and-this-is- where-it-got-me kind of way. Today I got offered a job going door to door to sell Rogers home phones, internet, and cable. Now, don't get me wrong, I think Rogers has been pretty good to me. I know I've complained in the past, but their constant phone calls do stop when I pay the bill. And they've only cut me off like 3 times. And I just upgraded my phone for free. But when I was considering taking this job, I realized the only reason I would take it was to have a job. Period. And I thought, what exactly did I do wrong that I am in the position where I have to take a job that I don't want just to have a job? Well, let's run through my life choices for a minute.

I did well in high school. I went to university. I double-majored, despite additional time and finances. I have a loan that I will be paying back for the rest of my natural life as a result of this education. I worked. I worked 2 jobs sometimes. I took extra classes. I volunteered. I struggled, was constantly broke, didn't buy an excessive amount of clothes, wasn't (overly) promiscuous, gave money to the homeless (and apologized when I couldn't), barely did drugs, maybe drank a tiny bit more than I should have but not enough to send me into a 12-step program, and basically tried to be a good, kind, responsible human being as often as possible. And after all of that, I get offered a job that when I asked what skills it required was told, "Well, you need to know how to talk." Okay, so let me get this straight: I need to know how to a) talk, and b) walk (door-to-door). Skills I just happened to have mastered at the age of about 5. So basically I could have been hammered every day, taken ecstacy, shrooms, acid, coke, and any other number of drugs I never did, had a litter of kids, blown off university, gone on more than 1 vacation, screwed my way around the world, had a wardrobe that didn't consist of sweaters I've owned for 10 years, and would still be able to come back to London to get this job.

So the morale of this rant is don't be too hard on yourself. And if you have kids, don't be too hard on them. Because no matter what they do, as long as Rogers exists they will always have a place in the world, right next to me.

"If you can walk and talk, you can get a job on my block"
-sbg

*I know I sound like an obnoxious snob, but it really stems from my crippling self-pity. Which is almost as attractive as elitism, I know.