Luck versus Irony • Tabytha Towe I am the kind of person who would lose my life savings on a stupid bet or something, or I would find the best outfit in the world that makes me look voluptuous and sexy, but in the wrong color.

Luck is just so ironic. I don’t believe people are born with pure luck or bad luck. I think it’s all chance, but if I were to believe that we started with such a blessing or a curse, I would definitely be a bad luck baby. It’s not major bad luck, just stupid, minor things (on a daily basis) that screw things up - royally I might add. You know, bad luck enough to create a lot more difficulty in my life. I am the kind of person who would lose my life savings on a stupid bet or something, or I would find the best outfit in the world that makes me look voluptuous and sexy, but in the wrong color. Worse, I would get the piece of chicken at a buffet of all places and pick the one that had been dropped on the floor, or I would be the girl at the party to trip down the stairs in a skirt not only in front of everyone, but spilling my drink on someone cute too.

Yes. That is the kind of luck I have.
But there are flukes where I find $20 in my pocket or find the closest parking spot to where I am going as well, so I cannot cry me a river. However, I do believe in karma, so I do know that when there is bad luck there is also good luck bound to come.

I speak of this right now, because as of 45 minutes ago I got suspended from work for two weeks… again!! Well actually I’ve only had one-week suspensions before, as you can see it really shows I learned my lesson. All because I was 45 minutes late, but please note it was for my morning shift after a night of partying until 4 am, go figure. The funny thing is, (and this is where I find chance is timing and time is chance, if that remotely makes any sense to you whatsoever,) is that I had gone over a month without getting drunk - with the exception of one occasion and having the odd glass of wine here and there, especially after work - but for me mind you, a sober month is a job well done.

Of course, the one night I go out and blow it, it also happens to lead me to be broke for the next two weeks. I decided it would be a good idea to blame my lateness on alcohol, rather than say I was irresponsible. Stupid me therefore insinuates I’m an alcoholic instead, which they probably thought so in the first place, but at least a responsible alcoholic; how’s that for a contradiction.
I was mad at first for I remembered how hard I worked and how sore my feet are all the time working like a slave. Also how unappreciated my dedicated hard work is and how underpaid I am all the while, but then I realized that simply that’s the way the hospitality industry works.

Besides, I could have been fired; that is if they decided to be absolute pricks over a few ‘lousy-didn’t-even-need-me-there-because-it-was-so-dead-anyways’ minutes. Little Miss Optimistic that I sometimes surprise myself to be, I am not going to scream at my manager or burn down the restaurant, no, no, I see opportunity here. I think this may be some kind of er… ‘wake up call’ not to be too ironic about this, saying, “now you have to get another job broke ass”. I have no excuse, it’s not like I have other work or anything.

I just can’t wait to get a new job. I’m itching to do something new. I will get so much satisfaction out of going back and thanking the management for suspending me after all, because I have found a better paying job during the time. Although I would also stay there, since I have been with them so long, I would just have to work twice as much as ever.

All thisbetter pay off soon, I have many countries to visit and an independent living to make. I’m already planning what I’d do with my money when I am nowhere near close to it. Psychologically I feel like I’ve already forgotten what money looks like. Is it even real? That is actually a really good question come to think of it. It all comes down to perception. Is that really steak you are eating or is it just what you believe to be steak? Nothing is real and we know nothing. (For some reason I think I have quoted that before.)

Other than bitching about my job obviously I have other interesting stories to tell but they’re a little too personal for me to share. Come on we hardly know each other. My puppy needs to be belly rubbed, the spoiled mutt, so I am not deliberately snubbing you all. You would understand if you had my intolerance to technology and an adorable puppy gazing at you. Hopefully my luck won't run out on me when applying for new jobs…I take that back, knowing my luck, it won't do me any good anyhow – so it can run to Bermuda for all I care. Till next month
© Tabytha Towe June 2002

More from Tabytha's life in Vancouver

TABYTHA GOES TO FLORIDA
• Tabytha Towe's Diary - Our Vancouver Girl
I learned quickly that cruises are notoriously brutal for drinking and unfortunately I like having a nice, cold beer offered to me every 5 seconds.

Previous moments from Tabytha Towe's diary:
ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR
FIVE. SIX. SEVEN. SEVEN and a half EIGHT. NINE -TEN- ELEVEN TWELVE

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