Underachieving

I am an underachiever. I should have done so much more with my life. I was given an abundance of gifts and I have squandered them. I am not successful in any meaningful way. I am unemployed. I am unchallenged. I am sitting. Here. All day long.

I have not always been unemployed. I once was a nurse – but if I had pushed myself, I could have been a doctor. There is no reason other than sheer underachievement that I am not a doctor. I was female when the field was begging for women to enter. I was smart enough, a good enough student. And my father said he would pay for med school if I would just go.

I have never wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to be a nurse. I was a nurse.

Doctors work 16 hours days and I wanted to work 16 hour weeks. I wanted to raise my own children. Doctors hire nannies to do that. And then wonder at the distance between them and their offspring. That wasn't what I chose to do. I wanted to be the person to screw up my own kids. And, by God, I did.

I could have chosen a different path. I could have pushed more to get work published – and I still might. But at this moment in time, I'm basically an unpublished writer. Okay, I'm published, but I'm an unpaid writer. While a couple thousand people read or skip over what I write, it is sent out three times a week.

I'm asked what it is that I do. And I can't really say because I do very little. I do laundry. I cook dinner. I make coffee. I keep the crap from piling up to the ceiling. I occasionally, very occasionally, dust. I read a lot, but mostly fluff books. Or even fluff magazines.

I don't think deep thoughts. I just go about my day looking at the world go by. I know that many people have done more with less than I have. That's somewhat disturbing. I chose to be less than I could have been because I'm lazy. And unmotivated. And while I am a consummate consumer, I'm apparently not greedy enough to strive for more money to spend.

I tell people I'm retired. That sounds better than I'm a slug. But the truth of the matter is that I am a slug. At the end of the day, as they love to say in the business world, my day has been filled with essentially – nothing.

And yet … I've chosen to live this way. If I didn't want to live this way, I would chose differently. I'm not driven to achieve great things. I enjoy learning little bits and pieces here and there. I enjoy volunteering. And water aerobics. And sitting around doing nothing.

What do you do? Nothing – much. But I like it.

Post Office

I went to the post office today because I needed to stop the mail. I had some questions and so I waited in line. A long line. There were three work stations at the post office. One was manned (personed?) and the other two sat idle. A customer rang the door bell that was supposed to bring help from the back room. She had a problem with certified mail. She waited and waited; rang the bell four times before it was answered. No one seemed able to help her. She explained her problem lucidly, succinctly, and still … blank looks. Finally, someone found the certified letter.

While I waited patiently in the line for my turn with the one clerk, I watched all this happen. The line was past the door. The clerk is efficient and economical in movement. He never rushes around, but holds a steady pace, taking care of one person after the next. He knows his stuff and takes care of each taxpayer with alacrity. But he is only one.

I left the post office and went across the parking lot to the bank to again stand in a line. The post office is a huge place, servicing a large number of citizens. The bank, on the other hand, is one of many banks. The closest bank is right across the street. Next closest, kitty-corner across the street. The bank had six tellers working for a smaller client base. Ah, private business.

As I stood in lines, I thought how absurd that anyone thinks that national health care would be an answer. The Post Office is a nationally run business – as is the Veterans Hospital system. Neither is run anything like a privately owned business. And yet, this seems to be what some people want. Stunning.

I've heard it said that if there were nationalized medicine, then all people would have the same availability to health care. And I look at the people who say like they were nuts. Of course that isn't the case. Canada has a nationally run medical program. People with money to pay for health care jump line by crossing the border and coming to the US for treatments.

If there were a national medical system, we would all wait in line – like at the post office – for the nice underpaid doctor who might be able to help you if you don't die before you get to him/her. How many people would elect to go to medical school for a government job? If there were a national health plan, would it still be possible to sue the doctor/government for inadequate care? Who will insure the government? There goes the lawyers' profits as well.

Every time I look at a government-run entity, I am overwhelmed by the horror. Replacing a Social Security Card was a major undertaking. Getting a Driver's License was ridiculously difficult. Filing yearly taxes needs an accountant. And we want to hand over one more thing to the government?

There is one immutable law about commerce. If there is something that can be bought and sold, people with more money have a better chance of getting it. Sugar on the Black Market during WWII or guns on the black market today. If you have the cash, you can get the goods. If you don't, wait in line and we'll see what we can do for you.

I don't want my health care run like the post office. And remember, the rates for mail are going up on May 14. Enjoy the service.

Nineteen Eighty-Four

The title really should be written out, not numerals. George called it. I'm listening to the book on CD. I read the thing in high school which was a long time ago.

I go to water aerobics on Monday and Wednesday and the trip is about 20-25 minutes one way and so I have the CD in the car, telling me stories. Today's story is 1984. I was listening to Winston's hope that the Prols do something to save the world from Big Brother.

Winston knows the Prols aren't going to be able to think enough to form a plan beyond the numbers they want to play in the next lottery, hoping for a release from the drudgery of their sorry lives. But he hopes. Hopes against hope.

I just listen to this, the chapter is ending as I pull into the parking lot outside a Target store.

I'm after some dog food since I've had trouble buying darling Loony Bin Dog her bribing food because of all the dog food recalls. Wal-Mart wouldn't sell me the cans of food I selected because they were on recall and just hadn't yet been pulled off the shelves. Great.

I've been dealing with the stupidity of long life, low electricity consumption light bulbs for the past week. Since Earth Day was a recent event, these issues are on people's minds. CFLs contain mercury. Mercury is a toxic heavy metal that causes damage to mammals. It should not go into the regular trash where the mercury will eventually seep into the ground water.

I've checked online and find that the nearest center for the disposal of the bulbs is about 90 miles from my house. Too much gas wasting going on to dispose of a bulb.

My husband is a businessman and he thought that the stores, like Wal-Mart, Target, Home Depot, and Lowe's could be collection sites and they could use their ubiquitous trucks to transport the burnt out bulbs to a safe center for disposal.

So, I was in the right department when a floor worker asked if he could help me. I explained my proposal and a look of abject fear came over him. He called his manager. I waited.

I spoke with the manager who liked the way I explained both the goodwill that the store would generate, the service to the customers that it would provide, and the brilliant marketing gesture the plan would make all while saving the planet. No extra cost – the trucks are already on the roads. Just a public service that would make the store look like a hero.

All I kept thinking was that my first little salesguy was the Prols. He wasn't having any of this thinking outside the box. He wasn't going to be making any suggestions to management. I even hinted that it would look good if he told his boss about this great idea. Not him. No way. He wasn't going to go outside the job description and THINK. Nuh huh. He was a Prol, through and through.

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.