Workin' 40 Hours a Week ... for a Living?

Today was my one-year anniversary as a cashier at the cafeteria of Conway’s hospital. This last year has flown by and work has definitely been a lot more fun than anything else. I have a lot of fun there messing around with co-workers and customers alike, probably getting away with a lot more than I should. I never thought that working as a cashier in a hospital cafeteria could be this fun, but there are a lot of cool people there who make it easy to have fun – some by joining in on the hi-jinx and others by simply putting up with it. I’m happy to call quite a few of the people that I work with friends. People you work with are often just acquaintances, but I consider many of these people friends because they really do improve or brighten my day. I look forward to seeing them each day. Maybe (hopefully?) they feel the same way about me.  

Should I enjoy it this much, though?

Five or 10 years ago I didn’t really expect to be where I’m at now. I had dreams of being a writer, for a publication or something else. And, I am a writer. I run my own entertainment website, I have a weekly sports podcast and occasionally I get around to a little fiction or nonsense like this. It’s just not something I’m making my living doing or really something I’m doing a whole lot of lately. I’m not even all that sure I’m good at it. I do, however, consider myself to be a very good cashier. I do my job to the best of my abilities and make a lot of people laugh while doing so (that’s the part I love the most and I really work hard trying to do so). However, I remember something that my buddy Luke said recently. When he started his job as a pot washer his trainer, Rico, said to him [paraphrasing of course]: “I’m very good at washing pots. You don’t ever want to be very good at washing pots.” I’m a very good cashier, but is it really something to be proud of?

Every few weeks I’ll have a customer come up to me at work and ask me questions about my schooling and what I want to do with my life. It always comes off like the bar patrons telling the Piano Man in the Billy Joel song, “Man, what are you doing here?” I can tell they think I should be doing something else with me life; something bigger? Better maybe? These people don’t really know me, but maybe they have more confidence in me than I have of myself. This is likely the most uncomfortable question I get from people. I always tell them, “I was a creative writing major, so that’s why I’m a cashier.”

I got comfortable at doing what I’m doing now. In the year since I started working at the hospital I honestly haven’t even looked for another job. When I get comfortable somewhere or doing something I kind of bunker down for the long haul. Maybe the problem is that I have too much fun at work? If I didn’t like my job then I’d be searching for an out, but that’s not the case. I think my cashier job has turned into some form of escapism. It’s letting me pay my bills and continue living my life and it’s giving me an excuse not to do as much writing as I should be doing or as I’d like to be doing.  I have the confidence in myself as a cashier that I lack as a writer. It’s nice to be confident in oneself, but anybody can do what I’m doing now, hence those asking me questions about what I want to do with my life. They know I could be doing better. I don’t really know it, though. Or maybe I do and I just don’t want to do it.

Am I a failure?

Yes and no. There are days where I definitely feel like a failure. After all, I’m not doing what I thought I’d be doing at this point of my life. Most of the time I just don’t think about it, though. “I should be writing more” is a thought I have every day of my life, but “I’m not doing what I should with my life” is only a thought that crosses my mind every now and then, usually on my worst days.

I think my biggest problem is my failure to realize that I’m 25 years old. I pretty much live my life like I’m an 18-year old. Like I have the entire world and my entire life ahead of me. I’ve kind of been doing this for the last seven years. Doesn’t there have to be a point though where I have to drop all that and finally decide what it is I want to do; what I want to be? Probably. But, I’ll push it off until another day, another week, another month or another year.

I really like my job and I’m good at it. When I started I was a writer who cashiered on the side for money. Have I become a cashier who writes on the side for fun?