Have I wasted my life?
Dear Dale:
I work in the accounting department of a small company that sells birdseed. It’s not a glamourous job but it’s recession-proof because birds got to eat too. I know some people might think it’s boring but I like it and have been doing it for thirty years. I saved my pennies, bought a house and have a 401(k) that’ll give me a comfortable retirement so I can’t complain.
But sometimes I go to a high school reunion or meet an ex-co-worker on the street and they all seem to be doing so much better than me. Some of them are successful but even the ones that aren’t have families or interesting lives while I never married or travelled or did anything worth talking about. Have I wasted my life?
Signed,
Nowhere man
Dear NM:
We’ve all been there. What my bartender calls the dark night of the soul. A terrible time late at night when, having run out of alcohol, you find yourself entertaining gloomy thoughts. Like:
Was working as a drug mule for bikers the best use of your childhood?
Was dropping out of school to join the carnival a smart career move?
Was slashing the tires of all the cars in the teachers’ parking lot the best way to say goodbye?
Was stealing your Christian brother’s car the best way to test his faith?
Was repeatedly referring to his girlfriend’s baking club as Fruitcakes for Christ the best way to win her over?
Was, at their wedding, when the minister asked if anyone knew of any reason why they should not be married, loudly stating that, in your opinion, he could do better the right thing to do?
Was telling your niece her tits are so big you could carve a president’s face in them the best way to win the trust of a shy teenager?
Was hitting on her friend the best way to show how hip you are?
Was kidnapping your six-year-old nephew, telling him his parents had died in a horrible car accident and taking him on a drug-fueled crime spree the best way to spend quality time together?
Was sleeping with your wife’s sister a good idea?
Was spiking your ex-wife’s boyfriend’s drink with acid, taking him to a strip club and photographing him with his face in a stripper’s ass the best way to break up their relationship?
Was showing up uninvited to their wedding with the aforementioned stripper as your plus-one the best way to show there’s no hard feelings?
Next thing you know you’re looking up at the ceiling fan, wondering whether it can hold your weight and if you should spank the monkey one last time before you off yourself.
But then the bootlegger arrives and, after a few shots of Jack, you perk up, banishing those dark thoughts with the realization that you were put on this earth for a purpose: to make others feel better about themselves.
Because, truth is, the world needs losers as well as winners, sinners as well as saints and assholes as well as nice guys.
Just look at the White House. All those principled presidents… where would they be without their black sheep shadows — people like Charles Adams, Orvil Grant, Donald Nixon, Billy Carter, Roger Clinton, Neil Bush and Hunter Biden — whose serial fuckups are the yin to their yang, making them look good?
Same thing at a restaurant. Who’s the most important person there? It’s not the chef. Or the server. Or even the bartender.
It’s the dishwasher. Not because he provides everyone with clean dishes but because, if he doesn’t wash his hands after taking a dump, everybody suffers.
So next time you feel like comparing yourself to others… don’t. You’ll be glad you didn’t. Because comparison is the enemy of contentment, every life is its own story and it takes all kinds.
Truth is, the high are nothing without the low. And that’s what people like us are: lowly workers who, though we toil at the dirty jobs the arrogant disdain, always make sure everyone gets food poisoning. Hope this helps.
Sincerely,
Dale
Hi. If you’ve made it this far, you probably liked the story. So why not check out some others at my Medium page? https://medium.com/dear-dale
