A tasteless lifestyle

There is a man, let’s call him Snack Wrap (though he is known in certain circles as Filet O’Fish), so immersed in the tasteless lifestyle he has been unable to fulfill even the most basic social obligations. Over a month ago, Don Noodle set up this fine blog and asked us both to participate, to share our financial struggles and our journeys into tastelessness. Since then, some of us have gone further down that road than others. I, not known for my punctuality, took a whole month before I wrote my first post. What it took was Don Noodle reminding me that he had paid $10 for the domain name: www.tastelesslifestyle.com. Hearing his tale of irresponsible but selfless spending, I was shook to the core and immediately began to draw up my first post. What if I was short $10, how much worse off would I be? Could I spend without any regard for my own well being? These were the questions that raced through my mind as I frantically typed away and yet, now a week later, Snack Wrap is likely sitting unconscious in his favourite chair, his mouth gaping wide. At his feet, there is a collection of used napkins and Tim Horton’s wrappers (He maintains that the Tim Horton’s Chicken Snack Wrap has the best cost to nutrition ratio in the current fast food market, hence the name). His hands are down his faded sweat pants and…well, you get the picture. This is a man without conscience, without guilt or shame. But that is precisely why Snack Wrap’s involvement here is so important. Clearly, I’ve been unable to completely divest myself of taste and still seek the approval of my peers. But these are burdens that Snack Wrap lives without. So let his utter disregard for civility be an example of how we should all live our lives in these tasteless times! Pray that we might have something of value to offer this great man, so that one day when the cosmos aligns just right, he may share his wisdom with us.

Like Don Noodle, I use to work the same crappy customer service job. Each day we shared our frustrating work experiences (of which there were many) on public transit going to and from the office. The two assholes talking so loud on the bus or train that you felt their inane chatter was physically invading your personal bubble, that was us…at least, until our office was closed and our jobs were outsourced. When the announcement was made, we were oddly silent. And for several reasons. First of all, because many of our co-workers who had been with the company for years didn’t know how they were going to feed their kids or make their mortgage payments in a few months time. We had enough tact not to break into song and dance in front of them or, on the flip side, to trivialize their problems with our own minor complaints and concerns. Take some time and go traveling? Find another crappy customer job? Damn, better hold back on buying that <insert consumer product>.There was also the small matter of being right. In spite of the company’s best efforts to keep us in the dark, it was clear that the ship was going down. Still, there were those that insisted upon our company’s good nature and competence. But again, when we were dismissed with nothing more than a vague explanation of what’s good for business, it didn’t seem like an appropriate time for “I told you so.” So was it simply our social graces that kept us quiet? Or was it something more, a joy or rage so powerful, so profound we couldn’t find the words? I’d like to say that I experienced something of that magnitude when we were laid off, but the reality is that the corporation had numbed me so completely all I could manage was indifference, a slight shrug of my shoulders. Sure, I could have been outraged, but I kept my head down, stayed off the radar, and collected my last pay cheques. It was the same force that kept me from quitting in the past on my own accord, the same force that I now intend to channel as I live the tasteless lifestyle. What choice do I have? I could find another soul crushing customer service job and return to a life of slight respectability, but where has taste gotten me? It’s time to regress, to return to those first days of life on your own, to student living, to instant noodles, Kraft Dinner, and malt liquor. Working for a corporation has taught me so much about cutting back. It’s just a matter of applying those lessons and tipping the scale, trading those costly pleasures (like proper nutrition and beer that doesn’t taste like gasoline) for the soul you pawned long ago. Join me as I try to cut costs to make my life sustainable. I am Jr. Bacon and this is my story.