The dread kicks in not long after the coffee and the mind looks for excuses while trying not to think about the why. It’s not the job. Not the tedium itself. All jobs are tedium. That thing they sold us when we were kids- what guidance counselors, college recruitment mailers sold us – was a lie. A career is a tedium that (in theory) you get trained for. A job is a tedium you’re thrown neck deep into after a two hour orientation video. But it’s not the tedium. I’ve accepted the tedium because it’s temporary. All jobs are temporary. All careers too. The why is that slight twinge in my right leg left over from last night when the pain grew up out of the cement and through the soles of my feet up my legs into my lower back. But I tell myself as I swallow back the dread that the pain too is temporary. Unconvinced I leave my chair anyway.
Tag Archives: flash fiction
King of the Horse Players
10 years ago when I lived in Phoenix, I used to drink with the king of the horse players. We hung out at the same bar with an in-house OTB. He’d come in while he was out “running errands.” Getting his Caddy washed. Running out for a quart of milk. He’d bring the milk in with him and Myka the bartender would put it on the bar fridge. He usually nursed one cocktail over 4 or 5 hours and always played the 10 cent superfectas. His other rules were simple : never bet more than you can afford to say you didn’t win and always bet on the gray horse. He rarely lost. He always tipped Myka well. And he almost always forgot the milk.