Photo by Alexxii
Watching T.V. Eating breakfast. It’s 1:50 pm. Some ad comes on with a middle-aged couple talking about how they had bills coming in from everywhere until they found “My Budget”. When you get older, you spend so much money that you have to pay people to tell you how much money you’re spending? Anxiety levels rising.
What is this shit? I’m not even sure what a mortgage is, but it sounds really boring, and I don’t want one—something about paying off your house for 30 years. Sounds awful.
On the morning of my 21st birthday I was whistling a familiar tune, but I couldn’t remember what it was from. Then I remembered: Peter Pan. The lost boys sing it in the old, Disney movie. The lost boys never had to grow up. Kids are always in such a rush to grow up. I was never one of those kids.
I’m 23, and I completed a useless bachelor degree a couple of years ago—useless in that I wouldn’t dream of getting a job out of it these days. I’m sure many of you readers out there are living in a similar scenario. I’m just letting you know that this shit is scary—scarier than the part in The Lion King where Scar kills Mufasa—and you’re not alone if you agree with me.
I’ve hit a point where in order to make money, I’ve got to have a job that I never would have seen myself doing. Something I don’t want to do but have to do anyway, like kissing really old, female relatives on the cheek when I greet them, or having to apologise to everyone at a funeral because I like to breakdance in honour of the dead. But that’s work, isn’t it? If you want food, and a roof over your head, you work 9-5 til you’re old enough to retire. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to buy miniature jewelry to put on your collection of Furbies.
But I got around to thinking: Why should we have to put all the good things in life on hold until we’re too old to go 30 minutes without a toilet break/pissing our pants? Working a shitty job that you hate, nearly everyday for the majority of your life, until one day you’ll get to drag your decrepit ass into a golf buggy, and swing a club around whenever you feel like it. “You have to. That’s just the way the world works.” That’s very convenient for the people you work for—the people who make money off your work, and get the lion’s share of it. Just like Mufasa.
I remember reading an article on how we should be working 3-4 hour days, but instead of lessening our work hours, technology has insured that everyone is constantly working by creating a myriad of useless jobs. Look, I’m not trying to say that everyone should stop working. I’m just saying it’s ok if you think it’s bullshit that you have to work a bullshit job until you’re so old that you’d prefer a young Steve Buscemi’s body instead of your own wrinkly hide.
So, if you’re strapped for cash, here are some insider tips on how to save until you find a job you can do without the risk of your younger, more idealistic, past self, travelling to the future and punching you in your telemarketing face:
1. MEMORISE ALL FAST FOOD MENUS
Everyone lives off mi-goreng. That’s a fact. But that shit’s the easy way out. Go a $2 McDouble or a BBQ Cheeseburger or whatever cheap shit Maccas has going on. Get some $1 chips then ask for a cup of water. That’s a $3 meal. If you’re not full after this, repeat step one. Memorise all of the best prices, and learn how to get the most grease for the least dough. Ignore all of those fitness-obsessed, cock-nuggets on Instagram. Fuck those people. Deep down they hate themselves every time they have to shovel acai berries and quinoa into their beautiful mouths. They have to hold the tears back. I’ve seen it.
2. WHEN PEOPLE ASK: “So what do you do?”
Fuck. Just be really vague about when you finished your uni degree. Or whenever you finished high school, e.g. “I recently finished my bachelor degree and am about to start working in the industry.” Doesn’t matter if you finished three years ago or if you dropped out because everyone kept telling you to start wearing pants and to stop yelling at the pigeons. Just get away as quickly as possible. Don’t continue conversing with this nosey prick. If they persist, throw a fistful of Dominos coupons at them and run. Come back later and retrieve them ‘cause you’ll need some of that sweet 2-for-1 garlic bread.
From housemates, neighbours, churches.
4. CLUBBING/NIGHT LIFE
Guys: You’re bound to get lonely after three straight weeks of eating stunner meals at Hungry Jack’s. This is when it’s time to hit the town with all of your mates and wrangle up some sweet vaginal bits (or for the ladies: mad scrotum) right? Wrong, cunt. This shit will only drain you of your precious burger-money. Don’t even think about it. The only thing you’ll pick up on a night out is everyone else’s cab fare and some mild chlamydia, if you’re lucky.
Girls: Clubbing is a viable option only if you are wily and trained in the art of saving mad dolla$$$. You can squish up those big, floppy, meat-sack bits on your chest so that they’re popping out of the top of your dress like two, little, bald, Bruce Willis’ peering out from a ventilation shaft to get a shot at Hans Gruber. If you’re lacking in the miniature Bruce Willis department, just dance real provocative like (read: slutty). Do this until a man offers to pay for your drinks in exchange for genuine conversation. If he’s ugly and he tries to rub his beef bayonet up against you, repeat Dominos coupon maneuver from step 2.
5. READ STUFF
You’ll at least sound smart in conversation if you spend your spare timing reading things. It doesn’t matter what—it can be anything from classical literature, to instruction manuals for vacuum cleaners you one day hope to own. Empty shampoo bottles are a great read when you’re on the run.
Guys: Nah brah, don’t even go there.
Girls: Game over. You win. Free stuff everywhere. Play with his dick, and get that tattoo of Vanilla Ice that you’ve always wanted. Simple. Follow these 6 easy steps and you’ll have more than enough time to find a good job, instead of being stuck trying to sell funeral plans to pensioners on the phone all day.
Written by Luke Morrow