A Simple Job For A Simple Person
Jan. '71
Back at school, I took The Politics of Eastern Europe, Peace
Seminar, Political Philosophy, and Political Thought and Theory. I
needed to build confidence; so I figured twelve hours of classes
wouldn't be that tough. I ended up, as was usual with me, putting my
time in just one class, Political Philosophy, at the expense of the
others. It used to be that my favorite class would be in Biology,
then it was in Political Science, and now I guess its in Philosophy.
I had no idea how philosophy was going to help me get a job though.
After university, what would happen to me job-wise was beginning to
bother me. It bothered my parents too. They didn't care what I
studied, as long as I was able to get a good job and be happy.
I had nothing against happiness, but I knew my parent's world just
didn't work for me. It probably never would work either. I never
liked competition. The flip side of winning was that somebody loses.
I've never been comfortable with that either. Growing up, I got used
to loosing, my brother (five years my senior) made sure of that.
Even in sports, if I played hard and well that was enough. Winning
was just the icing on the cake. The business world didn't work for
me. Achieving wealth was not an option. Money was good for providing
immediate sense gratification, but after that its accumulation was
not worth the hassle. Achieving wealth was more of a class thing
anyway, sustained and promoted at the top, usually to the exclusion
of the poor underclass. When it came to figuring out what I wanted
to do with my life, I was at a loss.
While taking classes at CMU I tried to join the Peace Corps, but
failed; likewise with Vista (the domestic Peace Corps). In both
cases I got the same reply, "Sorry, you do not qualify"—meaning that
these volunteer organizations did not accept people with mental
problems. One look at my 4-F draft status and one could conclude I
was either insane or a communist.
One day, while sitting in CMU's Student Union, I was feeling a bit
more depressed than usual. I was taking a break from writing a
philosophy paper when I couldn't help overhearing the conversation
that was going on between three CMU janitors. They were sitting at
the table in front of me. I was not drawn to the content of what was
being said. It was just that I found the overall humor of their
conversation interesting. They were laughing and carrying on as if
they did not have a care in the world. Just when I was beginning to
feel guilty about eavesdropping, I asked myself, "What's wrong with
this picture, and the answer came at me like a blazing meteor. "What
a simple solution," I thought, "a simple job for a simple person; no
more problems, no more debts." As I chewed on that thought, it felt
like the ground gave way under my feet. I felt like I had fallen
straight through the floor into an indescribably beautiful place—the
self-sustaining, lifetime environment of a college student.
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