It's not easy...it never is.
Being a leasing consultant, that is. Now that's not to say that being an officer, a firefighter or a mail carrier is easy. But there are days that being a leasing consultant is just not worth the trouble. Day in and day out, it is about dealing with people. It's about listening to their problems with that fake smile of sincerity. Giving the illusion that you are deeply concentrated on every word that is spoken, when in reality you are thinking about how soon this day will come to an end. If the day is not spending on listening to a five minute narrative as to why their sink doesn't work or the epic novelization as to why a boyfriend's car got towed. It always boils down to some stupid shit that I don't really give a damn about.
I look at my paycheck every two weeks and literally sigh at how meager it is. I would think poor Bob Cratchit makes more money than me. I have a college degree in Political Science, I had big dreams, big ideas and goals. And now all that degree is good for is to gather dust in my bedroom closet.
It is a shame that after all this time I still have yet to buy a frame for it. Maybe properly framing my college degree might bring some luck my way.
Instead of spending my days in the halls of justice and law arguing policy and issues that effect the world. I walk through muck, through piss drenched carpets and fridges being overrun with maggots and flies of people who live in absolute filth. Believe me when I say that, women are by far the most filthiest apartment dwellers I have seen. Instead of reviewing court cases and resolutions, I am thrown Move-out reports and other meaningless items to preoccupy my time, work that seem so mind numbingly stupid that I feel my so mentally drained and feel my mind just slipping in to some type of nothingness.
What brought on this sudden loathing of my current job...I honestly don't know. Maybe I just overheard some character on a show say how life is short and that we should not waste the time we do have wasting away. The usually yadda-yadda. Or maybe it was that other show where they showcase people who are my age actually making a name for themselves. It doesn't help that the Amazing Race is on the television at the moment, my only window...so far...to visiting different parts of the world. Or maybe when it was that close friend [Diana], asked me, "What do you want to do for a living, that would make you happy?" And I would be damned that the first thought that popped up, was to be a writer [oddly enough the following professions that did not popped up in my head: politician, professor, publicist, or pimp].
Me a writer....
Well being a writer has a better sound to it than being your local leasing consultant.
For a long time I had at my disposal a juiced up imagination. But like the Ark of the Covenant being stored away at a warehouse somewhere, that is how I treated my rich imagination. Keeping it bottled up, never seeing the light of day and never using it properly. That's not to say I have a brain full of story ideas just waiting for me to write them down. I have a few, but with a strong plot and point to the story, it becomes nothing more than rambling.
Leasing Consultant...
A job that I hope to never have to encounter again in my lifetime.
end.
Being a leasing consultant, that is. Now that's not to say that being an officer, a firefighter or a mail carrier is easy. But there are days that being a leasing consultant is just not worth the trouble. Day in and day out, it is about dealing with people. It's about listening to their problems with that fake smile of sincerity. Giving the illusion that you are deeply concentrated on every word that is spoken, when in reality you are thinking about how soon this day will come to an end. If the day is not spending on listening to a five minute narrative as to why their sink doesn't work or the epic novelization as to why a boyfriend's car got towed. It always boils down to some stupid shit that I don't really give a damn about.
I look at my paycheck every two weeks and literally sigh at how meager it is. I would think poor Bob Cratchit makes more money than me. I have a college degree in Political Science, I had big dreams, big ideas and goals. And now all that degree is good for is to gather dust in my bedroom closet.
It is a shame that after all this time I still have yet to buy a frame for it. Maybe properly framing my college degree might bring some luck my way.
Instead of spending my days in the halls of justice and law arguing policy and issues that effect the world. I walk through muck, through piss drenched carpets and fridges being overrun with maggots and flies of people who live in absolute filth. Believe me when I say that, women are by far the most filthiest apartment dwellers I have seen. Instead of reviewing court cases and resolutions, I am thrown Move-out reports and other meaningless items to preoccupy my time, work that seem so mind numbingly stupid that I feel my so mentally drained and feel my mind just slipping in to some type of nothingness.
What brought on this sudden loathing of my current job...I honestly don't know. Maybe I just overheard some character on a show say how life is short and that we should not waste the time we do have wasting away. The usually yadda-yadda. Or maybe it was that other show where they showcase people who are my age actually making a name for themselves. It doesn't help that the Amazing Race is on the television at the moment, my only window...so far...to visiting different parts of the world. Or maybe when it was that close friend [Diana], asked me, "What do you want to do for a living, that would make you happy?" And I would be damned that the first thought that popped up, was to be a writer [oddly enough the following professions that did not popped up in my head: politician, professor, publicist, or pimp].
Me a writer....
Well being a writer has a better sound to it than being your local leasing consultant.
For a long time I had at my disposal a juiced up imagination. But like the Ark of the Covenant being stored away at a warehouse somewhere, that is how I treated my rich imagination. Keeping it bottled up, never seeing the light of day and never using it properly. That's not to say I have a brain full of story ideas just waiting for me to write them down. I have a few, but with a strong plot and point to the story, it becomes nothing more than rambling.
Leasing Consultant...
A job that I hope to never have to encounter again in my lifetime.
end.
1 comment:
Having a mid-life crisis? You'll do just fine. :) You should write!
And women are not the dirtiest creatures! lol.
And yes I did put a bar in my ear BECAUSE we have not spoken in a few days. lol. jk
Talk to you soon,
Diana.
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