Gainfully Unemployed

Being unemployed is not all bad. It turns out my world is better suited to the unemployed. It’s no wonder (any more) why being a working stiff was so darn stressful.

The first thing I noticed was the morning routine. I’ve been getting out of bed every morning for years with decreasing levels of success. Naturally, I thought, I’d have the aches and pains, the lethargy, and the undeniable conclusion that time speeds up with R.E.M. And I was slightly surprised by the memory lapses, the slurred speech, and the overwhelming despair… Just me? Sorry. I attributed most of that to aging. Now, I realize the problem has been the job all along. With unemployment, I have no good reason to get out of bed and, therefore, no reason to get to bed in the first place. Yet, I can’t wait to get to sleep as soon as socially acceptable and stay asleep as long as physiologically possible. (That time is pre-determined by the bladder, FYI.) First, I don’t spend money when I’m sleeping. Also, my metabolism slows to something just shy of a hibernating chipmunk, so silencing the siren song of any and all food in the house is an unexpected bliss. Sure, the aches, pains, snaps, crackles, and pops are still there, but since I’m in no rush, it doesn’t matter how slowly I ooze around the house.

That sense of non-urgency is the big revelation of my condition. I’ve heard so much about our rush-rush pace of life these days, that I was surprised how ill-suited the world is to accommodate it. I can’t afford gas, so I’ve been walking more. I live in a small town, so it is actually more practical than I used to believe. Sure, I used to be able to hop in the car, run to the hardware store, and get back home in the span of a long commercial break (depending more on the speed of the clerk than anything else.) So, the fact that I would only be a few blocks along the way in that same time is no big deal. I’ve got more time than money. I can walk any speed I want. No one else is walking to complain that I’m too slow or get in my way, either. Actually, I envy my friends from bigger cities. They don’t walk everywhere, but they walk to the subway or the bus stop, or even the parking ramp. I feel very self-conscious walking around town by myself. People turn and stare at pedestrians, here. I’m sure they are thinking, “That guy must be too poor to buy a car. Maybe he’s homeless.” They’re only partially correct, so I try to ignore their ignorance.

I used to get annoyed when I used a public restroom that only had those air hand-dryer things. I prefer paper towels. But, they don’t bother me that much now since I actually have 5 to 10 minutes to stand there doing nothing except rubbing my empty palms together.

All of this improves my carbon footprint, which is nice. I’m a little nicer, too. So what if the lines at the supermarket stretch back to the milk section? I’ve got time. Someone cut in front of me? Oh well, they probably actually have stuff they have to do before bedtime. Not me.

I even impressed my wife. “Want me to do that?” Yes. Yes she does. No, actually, it is no problem. Life is a whole lot of nothing these days. I may even get ridiculous. I could bake a pie from scratch. I could even do all the mixing with a fork and a limber wrist. Sure, it would take longer. So? I could track down an old washboard and take 15 minutes for every article of clothing in the pile. That could eat up most of my week. My lawn looks fabulous, of course. But, I could use one of those old push-blades. Heck, I could use scissors!

Yesterday, I drove my wife, daughter, and her friend around while they shopped. I sat in the car. Normally, this would drive me insane. Instead, I just sat there like a carpool-lane mannequin. I realized that all the insanity was premised on having other things to do, line-items to check, checklists to conquer, objectives to master, and goals to achieve. Cell-phones pioneered our pursuit to empowered productivity. The world-wide-web wafts wirelessly to limber laptops.

I’m just checking out Facebook statuses.

I used to scratch my head at the thought of celebrities hiring people to Tweet for them. That makes sense, now. I mean, those people are ultra-employed. They’re busy. More importantly, they are getting paid insane amounts of money for… whatever it is they do. For them, the world is moving too slowly, aiming too low, under-producing, even dressing too comfortably. In short, it’s disappointing.

Me? What I could really use is an appointment.