How to deal your way to success.

23 Jan

If you’re prone to heart attacks, the restaurant business really isn’t for you. I often find myself clutching my chest in agony, wondering how I managed to make it to the point in my life where I get to clean up after Tweens Gone Wild in the Ladies Room, or carry cases of beer up and down flights of stairs in heels and a short skirt. Ok fine, neither of these things give me chest pains, but they do make my mind wander to far off and fantastic places where some people get to earn their livings. Like PR Firms in Manhattan and psychiatric hospitals. Here are a few paths I could have chosen in life, but stupidly and/or smartly did not:

  1. Wedding Planner: I really think of myself as a top notch party planner. And that’s being like really really humble (did you have a log flume at your wedding? I didn’t think so). I was sure for many years that my calling was in creating memorable nuptials. Until I started talking to this wedding planner who I knew, and I realized that many, many brides like baby pink bridesmaid dresses and jordan almonds as favors and shit like that. And I was like “NEVERMIND.” I have no patience for conformity. What would my slogan be? “Want to wear white satin slingbacks and a rhinestone tiara? DON’T EVEN THINK OF DIALING MY NUMBER OR I’LL HANG UP ON YOU!” And so, for lack of better slogans, I disposed of my wedding planner dreams.
  2. Camp Counselor: I have every intention on making this dream career a reality for myself for at least one more summer of my life. I kicked ass when I was a counselor. I only wrote “REDRUM” backwards on the mirror twice, and stopped after I made the third girl cry. I got lectured only ONE time for rewriting the lyrics to “Pretty Fly for a White Guy” by The Offspring into something inappropriate for ten-year-olds to sing. Whatever, only weirdos would have taken it as sexual innuendo. Get your heads out of the gutters! I still have a lot of leftover stationery from my sleepaway camp days, and I don’t want to waste paper. I’ve gotta go back.
  3. Screenwriter: I’m just saying this because I went to school for TV and film and I don’t want my parents to be pissed off that they wasted their money on a path that I had no intention on following. Don’t worry, Mom and Dad, I promise you I’m going to write that Academy Award Winning screenplay about a whirlwind romance that takes place in the walk-in refrigerator of a restaurant and live in LA and thank you profusely for rearing me to be a Supergenius. Or at the very least, I’m going to watch the Academy Awards every single year. On your couch. And cry when I realize another year has passed that I forgot to submit (or write) my script.
  4. Gap Sales Associate: This was my very first non-restaurant job. It was actually GapKids. I folded velour mock turtlenecks ALL DAY LONG because they were slippery and tipped over anytime a passer-by breathed near them. I got to use a shirt folding board. I learned how to make even piles of jeans. I learned that the Husky boy’s jeans have hidden elastic in the back so the chubby boys don’t have to feel badly about themselves. The worst part of my life at that point was the velour mock turtlenecks, and it quickly disappeared when the price got reduced and they got put on hangers. I would wholeheartedly love to deal with those stresses once more.
  5. Hotel Owner: I’m really gung-ho on this one. Everytime Harry and I go to Lake George we explore the abundance of FOR SALE signs along the road. But then it comes down to staffing, and suddenly you’re dealing with a 24 hour schedule full of employees who need off to take their brother-in-law’s puppy for pre-op and/or elective plastic surgery. I don’t think my weak heart can handle such a daunting task.
  6. Weed Dealer: I realize that in many states, particularly the one in which I reside, this isn’t necessarily legal. But don’t worry, I’m not nearly organized enough to pull this career off. Plus I heard that there’s an insanely low profit margin unless you’re dealing in massive quantity. And also, at the end of this season of Weeds, Nancy Botwin may or may not have been shot dead, so she really isn’t the greatest inspiration at this juncture.

I don’t think the perfect career for a girl like me is something that actually exists. Perhaps there are jobs out there that are fitting, and I just haven’t stumbled upon them as of yet – Professional Jeopardy! Player, Googling Expert, Mix Tape Maker, Analyst of Teen Movies. Until the day comes that a camp owner comes to recruit me to plan all of the discos and square dances by day, and sell weed out of the laundry room by night and then write a book about it, I’ll just stick with telling food allergy people that we can gladly accommodate their every need, ordering a new filter for the cappuccino machine and hoping my heart holds up long enough to force Riley to become a movie star or 3rd grade teacher.


4 Responses to “How to deal your way to success.”


  1. i am not on acid so please stop asking. « shelbytown - March 23, 2012

    […] you, I think Acid is great.” At least I know that if I decide to pursue my dream of being a weed dealer I’ll have one customer. Surely if she’s dropping Acid she’s good for a bag of pot […]

  2. Hashbrown Harry’s roundup! « shelbytown - March 26, 2012

    […] Hashbrown Harry’s t-shirts will be available for purchase, so bring some cash. (I know what you’re thinking, and if we have leftover brownies they’re totally on the market as well. It’s a variation on my dream…) […]

  3. if you’ve got them, flaunt them. i’m talking about dimples. and breasts. « shelbytown - April 13, 2012

    […] They’re reserved for: days off when I’m wearing layered tank tops, nights out with Charlie or Harry and, most importantly, weekend nights at work. It is imperative that my boobs be […]

  4. selling weed with a one-footed teletubby and a baker with a ‘stache is the only way i’m ever going to be happy again. « shelbytown - April 24, 2012

    […] an impressively stimulating conversation with some future employees when I become a rich and famous weed dealer. We won’t just sell drugs, but also drugs in the form of elaborate baked goods. The […]

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