Life During Wartime

Just like any other person who is a recent college graduate and seeking employment, I sought remorse in the disappointment of quitting the first job I was offered—as well as the pancake house I'd called my employer—by doing what any other down-and-out individual would do: Feel sorry for themelf every day, get drunk every other, and fill all available time in between with a fantasy franchise I'd constucted in NBA 2K2 (part of the recently returned Sega Dreamcast package I had loaned to a friend some years back ...).

Tomorrow was to have been my last day being a waffle waiter, but because the chick making the schedule felt like giving me my entire last week off—mostly, I assume, because I had told her I had a new full-time employer—it turned out last Sunday was in fact my last. Unless, I am called in tomorrow—which I am not particularly relying on, nor expecting to honor, seeing as I will sleep through every single phone call that comes in prior to noon, Central Standard Time.

"So today's the last day?" the boss asked last Sunday.

He seemed to be the only one who knew.

And I played it off that way because I had no answer about where I was going, what I'd be doing, or why my cell phone wasn't going to be working should they try calling anytime between that Sunday and tomorrow.

No sadly unemployed and desperately seeking some kind of——any kind of work, I begin looking forward. And while this past weekend was joyous in hanging out with a longtime friend, he also reminded me that, in fact, next weekend I should plan on attending our 10-year reunion.

"They never told me anything about it," I said.

But he claimed he'd told me everything, and it was at some shithole near his house. So, thus, I'm obliged to go. Or, so he thinks.

Because really, what reason do I have to be attending a 10-year reunion. What's my best introduction about what I've been up to (seeing as I never make an actual introduction as it is, mind you)?:

1. "Yeah, I just now graduated college and I'm on the job hunt."
2. "I'm between jobs."
3. "Well, I'm conducting the final years of a test to see if I can drink away most of my 20's."

It should be added that there will be free booze at the reunion, which could only mean likely disaster next weekend considering my current state-of-mind.

And the weekend after that is my grandmother's memorial, which should be some kind of a trip in itself.

And the week after that is a wedding for one of my now-former co-workers—which is to say, a total party (the wedding is at the courthouse, and the party is at one's home).

So I sit in a constant state of self-evaluation, seeking self-improvement, and all the while wondering if the lone attractive idea for future "employment" will be granted the graces of my parents or not.

But I will not wait long. I am growing impatient.

Much like many others, I assume, have grown with me.