I had a dream last night and because of this dream, I will be completely messed up for the rest of the day.  I might as well just go back to bed as there is nothing of worth that will be accomplished today.  It's over, I'm calling it.  The trainer is throwing in the towel and I'm pulling into the garage, my race is over.  See what I did there?  I mixed sports metaphors between boxing and NASCAR.  That's what's happening to me today.  So fuck it, I quit.  That's what stupid people do, they quit.  Well, they quit and enter their daughters into beauty pageants at age 3, give them something called Go-Go juice and then go on reality TV to brag about their awesome parenting.  That family is going to have some awesome pregnant teens working at McDonald's.  At least I'm not that bad.

Last night I dreamed that I was doing a series of job interviews.  This in itself shouldn't be that worrisome.  I used to be great at job interviews.  I was personable, charismatic and knowledgeable.  You wanted to hire me, the core of your bones vibrated with excitement after I was done.  I was witty and funny while maintaining professional standards.  When I was done, you thought "Man, I want that guy working here."  But in the dream last night, I was not that guy.  I was a fuck up.  I was stupid. 

I was interviewing, for some reason, in my wife's field of advertising.  I know completely nothing about advertising.  You would think that I would have picked up something from listening to my wife talk about it for so long.  But nope, I still know nothing about the inner workings of advertising other than the SAG salaries of the actors that are hired.  Oh, and if someone gets drunk at work.  I know about that stuff too because it's fun to gossip.  We should all do it more. 

In this dream, I desperately needed a job.  I can't remember why.  However, the first problem was that I was trying to interview while at the same time taking care of the kids, one of which was a baby.  The baby would cry, I would try to answer a question, my son would pee on the floor and my daughter wouldn't stop dancing on the interviewers desk.  I don't think the interview was going very well because I remember thinking "I wonder if he will notice the children?" 

During the interview, I was then asked to take a written exam about advertising.  This used to be something else I was completely awesome at.  I don't have test panic, I don't cram 10 minutes before one.  I once rolled into a calculus exam 30 minutes late, was the first one to finish, got a B and glory followed.  This one was not like that one.  How messed up to you have to be pining for the good old days of taking a Calculus final? 

The first question on the written exam was to define the word "arable."  I have no idea what this word means.  I don't even think that it is a word.  I asked Hossmom about it as she is a word nerd and she replied that it is a word as in "You had a arable dream last night!  Would you like to buy some flowers Governor" she said in her best cockney accent.  She was not helping.  But in the dream I was sure it was a word, a word that I didn't know and couldn't think about because at the current moment my daughter had gotten a hold of sharpie markers and was writing on the walls.  And what was she writing?  Arable.  And yet, I couldn't define it.  I was going to get the job. 

The next question was "What should the first 75% of the clients advertising budget be spent on."  Of course, I don't know the answer.  Why would I, I've never worked a day in the advertising world.  My answer did not go off well as I replied with "Boob jobs"  I laughed and for some reason my son laughed.  The guy doing to interview did not laugh.  Fuck all.  Nothing is worse than when a joke doesn't go well.  There is awkward silence as everyone realizes what a numb nuts you are.  A social incompetent who would do better tending to animals, probably cats, so that you won't make people feel weird in the real world. 

I was given an hour to finish the test but I couldn't finish it because I couldn't get past the first two questions.  So I ran, with kids in tow.  I called my wife and told her to tell her people that I'm sorry I'm so stupid and to tell them that I accidentally stabbed myself with a pen while trying to use it as a fork. 

And when I woke up, that's the way I felt.  I even asked Hossmom why she wanted me to work in advertising.  Now we can analyze the dream.  It's obvious that I have daddy issues.  I'm not really sure of course, as I am stupid apparently, but everything comes back to that so I'll go with it.  Could it also be that I haven't been employed for 4 years and my son starts kindergarten next year?  Will I choke on interviews?  Is it the knowledge that when I eventually go back to work I will have to once again start at the bottom of the rung rather than the level that I earned before leaving the working world?  I managed people, I made important decisions, I controlled a budget.  I was a fixer, I was the guy you called on when things were about to get public and nasty.  And I was good at it, I was not a stupid imbecile trying to define a word that doesn't exist.  Is that guy gone forever, has he been destroyed by dirty diapers and piss stains?  I'm worried that he might be.  Has Spongebob Squarepants taken away all the intelligence I used to have?

I have never taken the stay at home dad thing lightly.  I have always treated this like a job.  I wake up in the morning with the family, I cook breakfast, lunch and dinners.  I go to events, I'm involved in the national organization, I try to help others that are struggling with it.  But this is not something that translates well into the working world.

Unless of course the Webster's Dictionary cares to hire me.  After all, I did come up with a new word, Arable.

1 comment:

  1. Sorry,

    Webster is out. arable is already a word.

    Definition of ARABLE

    : fit for or used for the growing of crops
    British : engaged in, produced by, or being the cultivation of arable land

    I know. I HAD to be the hosehead to point this out.