Now that Thanksgiving is over, it’s time for my absolute least favorite part of the year: the fall finals rush. We’re all rushing around, trying to get everything done with what little time we have left, and in the process we leave behind self care and sanity. For me at least, this year is right on pace to continue along with those trends, regardless of how unmotivated I feel. It is what it is I guess.
Anyways, on my ride out to campus this morning I found myself thinking of a very unexpected person. When I was 15, I got my first job at a Staples near my house. It was awful. I unloaded trucks, opening up boxes of school supplies with only my fingernails (we sold box cutters, but it would be too much to spare a few for employees of course). I had to deal with a bunch of stereotypical asshole businessmen who barked orders at me while also being on a phone call in their earpiece. Worst of all though, the head manager of the store was a massive dick who found it fun to bully the youngest associates (me).
It was a terrible first job experience, and honestly the anxiety of it still haunts me a bit whenever I go to start a new job. Sometimes I feel like Staples is where part of my existential dread was born. With that in mind, I was surprised when out of nowhere 6 years later a coworker of mine crossed my mind. His name is Randy, and I always admired his ability to stay positive. I wanted to quit working at Staples very early on, but I had no other options so I was stuck there for a while. One day when I mustered up the strength to walk into the store and start my shift, Randy was outside on his smoke break. He probably saw the mental anguish on my face, or maybe it was just a coincidence, but he said to me, “Another day, another dollar, my friend” before flicking away the butt of his cigarette and walking in with me.
It’s a hollow phrase. The idea that nothing changes and everything is the same every single day is something I’ll always fear. However, this use felt different. In a way, it was encouraging. If nothing changes, it can’t get worse. So, if it can’t get worse, then what is there to worry about?
Randy helped me get through a lot of tough shifts at Staples and when I finally moved on to another job, I said my goodbyes and left him behind too. I don’t know where he is or what he’s up to today, but I hope he’s doing well. This memory ran through my brain on the road today, and I think that his message still applies. It might not be in regards to a shitty part-time job, but it can be in regards to a chaotic finals season or even my life beyond. It’s my fourth fall finals rush and I know what to expect, so why should I let the worries of it hold me back? I think Randy would say I shouldn’t.
Thank you, Randy. I hope you’re happy. Drive safe friends.
