Recently I lost my job. This was definitely not my choice, although my company was kind enough to allow me to “quit.” I loved my job. It was the best job I’ve ever had and the best job I feel like I could have at this point in my life. So, of course, the question remains: why the hell did I lose the job? What could I have possibly done to jepoardize my beloved source of income? Well, I did what I’ve done for LITERALLY ever and figured that since rules didn’t apply to my coworkers, they didn’t apply to me either. I used my employee discount to get a friend some money off of a product. Nearly everyone did it, except maybe management. All my coworkers did. It was common. It was talked about and it was known about by management. Or so I thought. But as I sat in the office and looked at my manager’s face as he explained to me I could quit or get fired – no other options – I realized it probably wasn’t as clear cut as I thought it was. “I thought everyone did this.”

“No…no, they don’t.”

I felt so fucking stupid. Here was a company who had given me a chance. I had been convicted of drug and criminal trespassing charges and had a pending felony and they had given me a chance to do something I loved doing. And I had screwed it up in literally the dumbest way possible. 

I’m so tempted to hate myself for it, to wallow around and be depressed about not having the job anymore. Today, however, I realized something. I need to go get another job, and I need to accept the fact that I almost definitely will not enjoy it as much. The reason for this is because my entire life I’ve been so incredibly negative about every major event, because reasons (Jesus, I don’t know why, that’s just how it’s always been). But losing a job that I love is an excellent, excellent reason to go do a bunch of drugs. And, as I’ve stated before, drugs tend to put me in jail. 

I hate jail.

So I’m going to go apply to Speedway, and to Kroger and Meijer and I might even apply to a few fast food places. Because I’d rather come home smelling like grease every day, being able to make my car and insurance payments, phone bill, and everything else I have, than looking good and smelling good and selling cocaine to scrape enough money together to buy food. 

So I’m going to go to the gym, and drink protein shakes and sweat and lift weights. Because I’d rather come home sweaty, exhausted, and healthy than weighing 110 pounds because I’m always too high to eat. 

Plus I’ve heard you get a high from running!