Jobs

I've been thinking a lot about work recently. Not only because that is all that my life has become; but also because it's a stupid concept. I was at my barber the other day and he was talking to me about cutting a hole in his house to make a dog door. My first thought was just to leave the damn dog outside where it belongs. But, that's not really important. So we talked for a bit and then said that he would be able to do a trade for my services if I were to come do the work of cutting a hole in his house to accommodate a wild animal. He mentioned that he could get me credit to go get a tattoo. Which was weird. I don't even have a tattoo, much less a visible one. So what on earth would I do with tattoo credit? Sell it? I don't know man. Maybe just give me money or a giant tub of some hair jelly. And I don't want Fop, gosh dammit.
That just got my wheels turning about how nice it would be to trade services for goods as opposed to paper money. Perhaps the big beard I am currently nurturing is altering my brain waves, and I am thinking too much like a mountain man. But wouldn't that be awesome?
"Hey Terrance, the shitter is full. I'll give you a sack of potatoes to come help me out."
"... Alright man. Feed me lunch too?"
"Deal."
I think that would just be an excellent way to get things in order, and also weed out worthless people. The only way you would survive is to be able to do something. So the people that are currently using food stamps to buy candy and chocolate milk, would have to start eating each other. And the people that just stay in their moms basement and do nothing actually have to go learn how to be useful in life. No more government feeding the worthless. The only way to survive is by a trade. Sounds too good to be true. America.
I guess it's just an odd concept; a job. I do this one thing to get this paper that helps me get bread that someone else earned similar paper to make and bag for me. Then later We are gonna go pay someone to pull down a lever to squirt some frozen chocolate milk into a cone that someone else got paid to make, then we are gonna eat it. And that is what our lives are. It's no longer about living and surviving. It's about paying your bills and trying to keep good credit so you can buy more shit you don't need. I feel like one day all that will collapse on us. And we will actually have to go back to trading meat for bread. And like buying wives and stuff. That will be awesome. Especially the wives part. Cause I know a lot of really ugly dudes (Yeah, me included, thanks for forcing it out of me) that have super excellent life skills and could trade like 40 chickens that he raised for a supermodel of a wife. Whereas right now he has no game and just drinks himself to sleep in his lonely bed. Cause girls these days are seriously awful.
I was gonna go off on a tangent about the girls thing, but I'll spare you. Just know. (Also it's not just girls, its everyone. But mostly girls)
What brought me to think about all this was being stopped by a train this morning. Which totally blows. I think it would be awesome to be a train driver. Not like the trax that runs from South Jordan to SLC, I'm talking like the Union Pacific. I wanna stop cars for a solid ten minutes and totally ruin every one's day. I don't think anything could make me happier than knowing every single place I go, and all the cars I stop, I have ruined some one's day. Maybe like having someone actually have a baby in their brand new BMW because my train stopped them. That would be awesome. Like the wife is just freaking out, and then the baby just comes piling out on the new carpet, in all it's gooey bloody glory. And I wave my engineer hat in the air and shout "Congratulations!" Through my mustache as I drive past, laughing.
I'm living proof that your dream job can be anything. And if you knock someone for their dream job, you're the idiot. I think too often everyone is trying to climb to the top of the ladder without getting all the rungs along the way. Sometimes you have to work shitty jobs and be patient in order to get to where you wanna be. So stop making fun of the kid with the lazy eye working at Goodwill. Home boy has dreams too. Just making ends meet for now.