Wednesday, December 27, 2006
I was at the gym the other day when I walked by a guy struggling at the bench press. Being the kind, compassionate soul I am, I stopped and gave him a spot, possibly saving him a few broken ribs or at least a bruised ego. After he'd recovered, the guy insisted he spot me with my lifting, and that's how I got sucked into a forty minute weightlifting session with someone who seemed to define white trash.
When you wear a baseball hat for no apparent reason other than fashion, you're probably white trash. And if you wear a hat to coordinate with grungy gym clothes and rotting shoes then there's no doubt about it. Baseball hats, originally designed to sheild a fielder's eyes from the sun, have little practical use indoors. Obviously not everyone realizes this. And if you're going to wear a hat, at least make sure it's the same color it was when you originally bought it. Besides the hat, he had a multicolored goatee infecting his chin, bushy sideburns, and used bad grammar when he attempted to speak. His stench, raspy voice, and hacking cough showcased his addiction to nicotine, and he was gnawing on a wad of gum the size of a billiard ball. Very classy.
The guy asked what I did for a living and I told him. Then I asked him what he did. Not surprisingly, he worked construction and seemed proud of it. And why not? There's glory in getting arthritis at the age of 35, and having a bad back is quite en vogue these days. Getting skin cancer from being out under the sun all day is pretty cool too, and having hands that are perpetually cut and bandaged is a big turn on for the ladies. Only those who have ever carried a cordless drill on their toolbelt can attest to the almost erotic pleasure derived from it, and it's been recently proven that wild African chimps, much like construction workers, are capable of wielding simple tools. Interesting.
Trying to make conversation, I asked if he went to school anywhere, since he seemed to be in his early 20's.
"Nope, some of us don't need college to be successful," he said.
There was a long moment of silence after this statement. I stood there, pondering what he'd just said, wondering how I was so lucky to hear what is perhaps the most ignorant thing ever uttered by anyone. I almost thanked him for giving me the honors. He might as well have said "Some of us don't need oxygen to stay alive." It was beautiful.
I got a great workout that day, since I could lift more weight with a spotter there to ensure my success, but my mind wasn't on it. I was busy thinking about what the guy had said. The fact that he was deadly serious when he said it was almost more amusing than what he'd actually said.
If success is swinging a hammer all day and then going home to a crappy rental house stuffed with six roommates and fighting over the remote control, then he's living the dream. To my little gym buddy, success obviously has nothing to do with financial independence, or mental enlightenment, or peace of mind. Success is having somewhere to go every day along with something to do, followed by a paycheck in an envelope every Friday night.
Maybe I put too much emphasis on money. I'm often told that I do. But besides the obvious cliches of love and health, what else is there? Sadly, my gym buddy probably won't ever know anything besides his day-to-day existence. When I'm rich and powerful, I might swing by that gym again, hoping to find my friend crippled from years of manual labor. Then I'll make him aware of a simple truth: College isn't always a prerequisite for success, but you do need money to be wealthy.
When you wear a baseball hat for no apparent reason other than fashion, you're probably white trash. And if you wear a hat to coordinate with grungy gym clothes and rotting shoes then there's no doubt about it. Baseball hats, originally designed to sheild a fielder's eyes from the sun, have little practical use indoors. Obviously not everyone realizes this. And if you're going to wear a hat, at least make sure it's the same color it was when you originally bought it. Besides the hat, he had a multicolored goatee infecting his chin, bushy sideburns, and used bad grammar when he attempted to speak. His stench, raspy voice, and hacking cough showcased his addiction to nicotine, and he was gnawing on a wad of gum the size of a billiard ball. Very classy.
The guy asked what I did for a living and I told him. Then I asked him what he did. Not surprisingly, he worked construction and seemed proud of it. And why not? There's glory in getting arthritis at the age of 35, and having a bad back is quite en vogue these days. Getting skin cancer from being out under the sun all day is pretty cool too, and having hands that are perpetually cut and bandaged is a big turn on for the ladies. Only those who have ever carried a cordless drill on their toolbelt can attest to the almost erotic pleasure derived from it, and it's been recently proven that wild African chimps, much like construction workers, are capable of wielding simple tools. Interesting.
Trying to make conversation, I asked if he went to school anywhere, since he seemed to be in his early 20's.
"Nope, some of us don't need college to be successful," he said.
There was a long moment of silence after this statement. I stood there, pondering what he'd just said, wondering how I was so lucky to hear what is perhaps the most ignorant thing ever uttered by anyone. I almost thanked him for giving me the honors. He might as well have said "Some of us don't need oxygen to stay alive." It was beautiful.
I got a great workout that day, since I could lift more weight with a spotter there to ensure my success, but my mind wasn't on it. I was busy thinking about what the guy had said. The fact that he was deadly serious when he said it was almost more amusing than what he'd actually said.
If success is swinging a hammer all day and then going home to a crappy rental house stuffed with six roommates and fighting over the remote control, then he's living the dream. To my little gym buddy, success obviously has nothing to do with financial independence, or mental enlightenment, or peace of mind. Success is having somewhere to go every day along with something to do, followed by a paycheck in an envelope every Friday night.
Maybe I put too much emphasis on money. I'm often told that I do. But besides the obvious cliches of love and health, what else is there? Sadly, my gym buddy probably won't ever know anything besides his day-to-day existence. When I'm rich and powerful, I might swing by that gym again, hoping to find my friend crippled from years of manual labor. Then I'll make him aware of a simple truth: College isn't always a prerequisite for success, but you do need money to be wealthy.
