Meat Service Team Member (Retail)

You never know what questions you'll face when you open your eyes in the morning. Those of us with a suicidal bent are often greeted with existentialist queries such as "Can I go on?" And "Is there any purpose in my being alive?" For some however the morning's first question is as simple as an inquiry of puppy love. "Do I want to get up to let the dog out?" There are those too of a feline proclivity who must ask upon awaking, "Is it time already to feed the cat?" The pet free bear no such burden. They can reflect on inquires germane to the self such as "What shall it be? Coco Puffs or Frosted Flakes?" Or "What socks go good with this tie?"

I can only imagine the questions faced by those with their very own brood. And it is not a pretty sight. I've no tolerance for early morning kiddy clamor and questions of why? Why? Why?

For the past ten plus months my mornings have begun with the opened eye inquiry, "How shall I fill the hours of my jobless day?" Some times the question has weighed upon me with enough brooding force to pin me to my bed. And there I have lain, staring at the ceiling, until boredom or inspiration whispered, "Get on with your day." There have been other mornings too when I slipped easily from bed and on to my knees to make my daily supplications. I feel more centered when beginning my day by humbly asking for help from a power beyond my human comprehension. It is a question with faith the answer.

Thusly fortified I surf the net looking for a job while nursing that age old question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" Today while perusing the goal of employment I came upon an advert for a position as a Meat Service Team Member (Retail). The images that ad conjured were both red and graphic, bloody aprons and mounds of cold dead flesh. It certainly in no way invoked the thought that this is the answer to who I want to be, a man who works with meat.

If our time above ground is as the wise have said down through the ages to know thy self, then I have this going for me. I know I am not a man who wants to labor with deceased animal flesh. If only my questions of meaning and purpose were as easily answered. I would rejoice and give thanks upon my knees.