Stop and Smell the Goddamned Roses.

My first job was as a telemarketer, or excuse me, a “market researcher.” It was dull, mind-numbing and occasionally I would want to rip my headset off, jump up on my desk and scream like a madwoman while throwing my feces at coworkers. Coworkers who chose the job because the Craigslist ad said “entry level” and the ever famous “no experience necessary.”

Shit. That’s why I applied. All you had to do was read a script to strangers over the phone. Type in their replies, and hope some old man didn’t ask, “Aren’t you a little too young to be a telemarketer, sweetie?” While I sat there thinking of a response I would always be hoping the middle aged man on the other end of the phone wasn’t touching his nipple or something even more private. I knew I had a curse of sounding like an eleven year old. So I would always say something like, “I am old enough sir, and I am a Market Researcher.” πŸ˜‰

 

My advice on never growing up is to never EVER over look the small milliseconds of life that make you go “Wow, so that’s what we’re all here for.”

That feeling that you get when instead of making well thought out plans, you wonder to a park and decide to eat ice cream in the grass. Or instead of worrying about being late to an Algebra class, you tell yourself, “I still have two hours, that’s plenty of time for a quick swim, and a margarita.” Maybe that margarita part is just me, but it did make class more tolerable.

When I entered my twenties I was still with my high school sweetheart, still am to this day. I feel like that has something to do with my overwhelming lack of maturity that I have grown to LOVE. I mean, we get to do grown up things and see each other grow, but we also get to say, ” Hey lets pretend were teenagers, even if it’s for a couple hours.” And I don’t feel stupid about it because the feeling is the same feeling I had when I first started loving him. Two poetic teenagers. Minus the pot.

More advice on never growing up: take your own advice.

This past week I found myself in a tailspin, for more than a few reasons. As I was laying in bed last night, I was super quiet, completely lost in my own head. My boyfriend looked at me and said, “I know your depressed right now, I am too, everything is not OK right now. But this is my favorite time of the day when we just lay here together.”

And then I broke down crying.

But after my cry, which makes anyone feel better, I realized that it was my favorite time of day too. Our teenager time. Our fart contest, tickle, and make each other laugh time.

As I find myself in another mind-numbing office job, I find solace in my boyfriend saying none of this is forever. Anything and everything can be overcome. Everybody goes through slumps, and everybody has felt like emptying their account to buy a one-way train ticket (just me?)

Some day my income will be more than my bills, and some day I will not have to grit my teeth and hold back a good ol’ poop-throwing party as I get ready for work every morning.

Some day soon.

 

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One thought on “Stop and Smell the Goddamned Roses.

  1. This is the truth for more people than you know! Thanks for being so honest and raw ❀️ You’re so very talented, Randyl!!! I’m proud of you for letting people into your “personal” “teenage” journey πŸ’•πŸ’•

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