David Weirdofield

Am I weird for liking my job? I mean, can I even call it a job since I’m “technically” self-employed? How can I like a job/occupation if I’m not getting paid for it?

Whether I shall turn out to be the weirdo of my own life, or whether that station will be held by some other poor chap, this entry will probably not show. I have a tendency to ramble and go off on tangents. So, that original question will most likely not be answered. But, I will try.

I think I’m weird for liking my job because most people hate the jobs where they are paid. One would reason that I’d hate a non-paying job even more. But, no! No, I drive 100 miles a day (round-trip, thank the Lord for that one blessing) and work at least ten hours in a too-small cubicle along with sophomoric, imbecilic loan agents who are twice my age. If it wasn’t for the tendency to blame myself for everything bad that occurs in my life, I’d think Zeus was mad at me. Yet, if anyone is mad, it would be me – mad for coming to work day-in and day-out without any money to show for it. Sure, I drive a “luxurious” Chrysler PT Cruiser, but my savings (from which the payments come from) can only last as long as I can keep myself from walking into a Barnes & Noble. And that is not going to last long at all.

Why do I enjoy making loans so much, though? Well, Mr. Voice-in-My-Head, I don’t think I like making loans so much as I like how much I am learning at this point. I imagine that when I am no longer a student of loan origination, then I would be quite bored. As it is, I’m constantly learning about the ins and outs of getting a loan, knowledge that would be very useful come time when I buy my first house. Hec, I might even be able to help my friends when they buy theirs.

I itch, though. I itch for that “learning high.” Do you know that feeling, Mr. Voice? Of course, you do. You’re a part of me. But maybe someone who was unfortunate enough to have stumbled upon this uninteresting journal of mine might not. This “learning high” is like injecting heroin straight into my brain, only it’s not diacetylmorphine but useful knowledge, and a whole lot less painful than stabbing my head with a bone-piercing grade needle. The learning high that I got when I first started is wearing off. Granted, I still feel the high, but it doesn’t feel the same as the first fix. So, I’m trying to find that next “Ah-hah! That’s how one can improve their credit score!” or “Oh my god, how many loan programs did you say you have?” Ahh… knowledge.

I know. I’m weird. I am the weirdo of my own life. Maybe in a couple of years I can join mainstream society again when I get jaded with making loans… and make some money afterall?

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