Buyer’s remorse is a real thing, and the older I get, the more remorseful I am after spending money. In my younger years before entering the workforce, I spent what little money I had on video games. I grew up in the country, so walking to the neighborhood Sandlot with the #squad was out of the question, meaning I spent much of my time playing Spyro or Star Wars Battlefront or whatever game I was into at the time. The challenge I faced was finding the means to obtain new games. My only income came from making A’s in school and mowing the lawn, so saving up for that $30 video game was a big deal. The most disheartening feeling was when I spent the money and the game sucked a big one. That was 30 whole dollars I just threw away! I would become disgusted in myself, knowing it would be another six months before I could redeem myself and get a better game.
As I got older, the hot commodities slightly changed and became more expensive. Instead of stressing over a friggin’ video game, I now stress over important things like buying a car and keeping happy hour tabs at a respectable number. The knot in my stomach when thinking about checking my bank account after a night out isn’t remorse, it’s terror. One thing I can’t say I’ve ever felt remorseful of is changing jobs. Sure, changing jobs can be scary and downright awful going through the HR lectures and being asked “are you new here?” seven months into the job, but in the end you go to a new job because you’re getting away from a crappy one. In theory, at least.
Since being hired at my newest job, I really don’t have many complaints. It’s entry-level and I want to blow my brains out every week, but I don’t hate it. It has been brought to my attention, though, that my former place of employment has started a new activity. One Friday every month, they drink. beer. at. work.
Maybe this practice is more common than I realize, but the thought of bringing beer into the work place just baffles me. Sure, it’s a two beer maximum and it only comes once every 30 days (story of my life) but do you know how many work days in a week I say I need a beer? Five. That’s every day, in case you were wondering. There’s something about the idea of throwing back a couple cold ones at my desk that make me feel something about an old job I’ve never felt: remorse. Do I really miss that place? Would I seriously entertain the thought of returning just so I could work in a place that offers free beer once a month?
While I’m usually the furthest thing from an optimist, I would like to believe that I could make the most of a two beers at work. For starters, I’m not necessarily proud of it, but I can get a pretty decent buzz after two beers. Just last Sunday I split a pitcher at Hooters and was tipsy enough to require a nap during halftime of the mid-afternoon games. If I skipped out on lunch the day of the beers, and then drank said beers in quick succession on an empty stomach, my Friday just got a thousand times better. For the next 30-45 minutes, that office douche becomes a little less douchie. The loud mouth at the adjacent cube? Slightly more tolerable. I’m in a much better mood, becoming less likely to lose my patience when the new girl screws up yet another simple task.
Everyone knows that the likelihood of slinging some business deals increases exponentially when alcohol is added to the mix, so why can’t one just assume the same can be said about that budget report? Beer in one hand, mouse in the other is becoming a work-fantasy of mine. Am I reaching a little in thinking I could actually be productive? Sure, but at the least, my sarcastic remarks may seem a little less hateful, and as previously mentioned, I’ll tolerate dumb people a little better. Sounds like a win-win. But until my new boss gets with today’s alcoholic trends, I’ll sit at my desk sipping ice water instead of a cold one, wondering what might have been if I stayed at my old job.
*Googles “Best happy hours near me”.
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