Potato Chip Factory

I am so immature. Seriously. Is it acceptable to be this immature at 23? You know what my biggest fear/largest source of anxiety is right now? A job.

And it’s not like I’ve never had a job before. Oh I’ve had plenty. But this one is different. It is going to take my life over completely. This party lifestyle that I’ve had a death grip on for so long? It will pry my fingers loose and I will see late drunken nights in the middle of the week and packing up to go on a weekend adventure on a whim just fly away like some asshole butterfly.

And this is why: This business operates from Tuesday to Sunday so I only get Mondays off. Monday of all days. And on top of that, what I’m going to be doing ain’t all that great. I basically am going to be harassing people at Home Depot about their kitchens and trying to get them to sign up for free consultations. Yeah, I’m that asshole.

But hey, I need a job because I want to travel and continue to party someplace cool like Rio de Janeiro or Buenos Aires. (You don’t have me yet adulthood!) And plus I should have some sort of usable skills for future job endeavors. Because, let’s face it. I have a college degree but didly squat when it comes to career-esque skills. Who wants to hire the lazy college grad drunkard? Yeah, nobody.

So this is what’s going through my head: Oh my god I need to get a job because I have to save up to go travel but it has to pay well otherwise I won’t be able to save because I’m really bad at that and another stipulation is that it has to have some sort of leadership quality so that when I attempt to get a job I actually want, they might actually want to hire me because I have to do something eventually the party can’t go on forever oh my god but I wan’t it to, why can’t it because I need to grow up one day and I have to see things and do things and be happy.

Welcome to my mind. On top of this, my best friend tells me that at her job at a medical office, old people are always coming up to her and saying

“Live your life while you’re still young! Do everything you want to do now, BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!”

And I’m all “Shit dude we need to get out of here. Let’s go to South America!” But to get to South America we need money and to get money we need to have a well-paying job but all the well-paying jobs suck your soul dry… and around and around goes the vicious circle.

Anyways, I decided to unload all of this to my mother who responds thusly:

“Did you know I once worked in a potato chip factory where I had to sit all day and pick out the bad potato chips from the bags?”

And at this point I’m completely stopped in my tracks and the vicious circle has stopped spiraling for the time being because all my energy has now been concentrated on how funny it is that my mom had a job like this once and wondering why she never told me such a hilarious detail of her life and questioning what a “bad” potato chip is because I’ve never met a potato chip that I didn’t like.

And is that even a real job? In my head it just looks like a bad comedy skit. But apparently there’s a pretty sizable amount of potato chips that are deemed unfit for consumption and people have to sit and pull those out. And how do they even train people for such a job? Do they have pictures and charts and grafts depicting what is considered a “bad” potato chip? Are there categories and different levels of “badness”?

Anyways, my mom was once one of those people but now she has a job she loves. So the moral of the story is that no one is ever stuck with a shitty job. If you’re not into charts of bad potato chips, move onto the pretzel factory, right? And then make those fucking pretzels your bitch.