I Dreamt of Work That Wasn’t

Hello, my friends and family! I hope that day 11 of the #WingWritingChallenge finds you in a better place than you were on day 10, which was better than day 9, which was better than … Okay, you get the picture.

If we follow that train of thought, we’d all be exuberant every day. That sounds pleasant, right? A woman can dream.

Speaking of dreams, today’s suggested topic is Dream Job.

My Companion sometimes offers advice to the younger people we meet. Generally career advice. When it’s relationship, they come to me. Cute, eh? One of his go-to suggestions is to find something that you love and then find a way to make money doing it.

Admittedly, that seems like a bit of a given, and it’s also pretty sparse on details, but it’s a nice framework.

I have a feeling each of the participants in this challenge are going to be able to say that they have found their dream job. We’re all writing, yes? Hopefully we’re making some money off of it, and if not, well, at least we’re doing something we love. As we master our craft the money should follow.

I know that I have no choice but to write fiction. The mental scenes that I lose myself in deserve to see the light of day. They’re quite interesting. When I tried to sublimate the inspiration, life was very, very difficult.

When I don’t write, I don’t sleep. When I do get a touch of sleep the dreams will really mess me up. They can be vivid and they don’t like to be ignored. Being scared of my own brain, my own sleep, isn’t something that I enjoy. So write I shall, if only in self defense.

I was working a restaurant job when I began and finished writing my first manuscript, Extremity. If it weren’t for the friends group I had at that time, I highly doubt I ever would have finished that book, to be honest with you. I over-reached. A lot.

The idea of editing that book one more time gives me a migraine, but it must be done. The thing is a mess. I’ve left it up on Amazon, perhaps to encourage me to fix the thing before too many people download it. Nothing like public embarrassment to make me knock off procrastinating, yet that hasn’t worked as of yet. Might be time to come up with a new carrot/stick approach.

I loved the restaurant world – way more than the offices I used to go to daily. I like interacting with customers, and I’m a service oriented person. That is one of my love languages, that I do things for other people. Like folding My Companion’s laundry even though he is fully capable of doing it himself.

Server was one of my favorite job descriptions. It sounds crazy, I know. It’s hard work that doesn’t offer much in the way of appreciation anymore, but it will always be one of my favorite things. I loved the other employees and watching how they handled the stress of a super busy Friday night. I loved the customers and their crazy demands. I seriously enjoyed that it was permissible, nay, expected, that we eavesdrop to ensure our customers have what they need. I treated everyone as family.

The problem with restaurant work is that I am not physically built for it. I strained my first rotator cuff due to the repetition of reaching over my head for glasses. Using a broom to kill a freaking bat is probably what officially tore it. My back didn’t enjoy carrying heavy trays, my arms were always done with me by the end of the night.

Not to mention the goofy accidents like spilling a pot of coffee down the front of myself. It hurt but I was tipped well that night so it’s okay … ?

I enjoyed casual restaurants, but honestly the fine dining establishment I had my last serving job will stick with me forever. It is astonishing how the human condition remains the same regardless of income/class.

Everyone goes on dates, whether they be first, last, or special occasions.

Everyone gets cheated on.

Everyone loses a job.

Everyone gets a promotion.

We all have good and bad things that we must celebrate or mourn and, for the most part, people do it the same whether they make 200k or 12k a year.

Ultimately my dream job would be what I am doing now, which is writing, but I’d also have a part time job waiting tables. I miss it, so very, very much. Clerking at a store would be similar but I definitely prefer serving food to clothing.

What about you, my friends? What is something you love so much, you would continue to do it for free after retirement?

Oh, you haven’t found that yet? Time to keep looking … find the dream, chase the dream, wrestle that bastard into submission. You’ll feel better for it.

 

 

 

 

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