I’m thinking it’s crazy. I got this job now…this loser-side-hustle-stand-there-at-the-Safeway-behind-a-portable-table-and-offer-teeny-sips-of-booze type job. I don’t even know what to call it.

It’s the craziest ass job I’ve ever had. Wait a minute…I’m thinking.

Let me think. Have I ever had a job?

Yes. In college I worked part time at a Seven Eleven.

I had to take the Wonderlic test to determine if I was smart enough to work at Seven Eleven.

Eldon Wonderlic invented the Wonderlic test in 1939. He was passionate about testing the smarts of people. I don’t know what else he was passionate about, but testing a loser’s smarts is a good thing, I guess…

And what da ya know? I did pretty good on the test. The manager told me. He said:

“You did pretty good on the test. You’re hired.”

“I did pretty good?”

“You did really good. In fact, you did better than me. You did the best I’ve seen.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not kidding. Let’s set up your schedule.”

I don’t remember how long I worked at Seven Eleven. I remember nothing about working at 7/11. I think I worked a week. Maybe two weeks. I did really well on that Wonderlic test. That’s the main thing….

I’m trying to think of some other job type jobs I’ve held in my life. Jobs that lasted more than a few weeks. Nothing comes to mind. Most of my life I’ve been on the make. Running a business. A scam. Figuring out ways to make money without actually working. Mostly sales gigs. So…

So this is like the first Job I’ve done. It’s not really a job. Not in the traditional sense. There’s no boss to report to. There’s no tasks to perform, beyond setting up the table, serving free samples, invoicing you’re hours on the computer. It’s kind of like running your own gig. Only you have these presences in the cloud. Superiors watching you from the internet portals. They don’t see you. They see pictures of you. Images you upload onto the portal. They direct deposite your pay. They offer zero benefits. Its a internet job! You could be some AI robot. They could be AI robots.

The Gloomer as an AI Robot Booze Sample Dude

This is a perfect job for a kid going nowhere. A man with no ambition. An Old Man who’s keeping the wolves at bay. A kind of pleasant nowhere dead-end just-give-me-space-to-die-in-peace kind of job!

So far I’m sold

A familiar humming

I got my table set up with my name tag swinging as I pour samples of a pretty good Pinot Noir. I’m making sure I pour itty bitty samples. Like one eighth of an ounce or smaller. Into cups like Reverend Ike used for his sacraments. That way at the end of my shift I got a mostly full bottle of Pinot I can take home.

But now I got this old fart hanging around telling stories about how they used to have real wineries here in California. He keeps nudging me for another taste.

I tell him, “You might want to buy a bottle.”

“I just might.”

As he’s eyeballing my sample bottle for another taste I hear a familiar humming.

It’s the Lobotomy Dude.

He wandered in here from the office right next door.

He’s in here for a sandwich.

“A loser’s Sandwich,” he says. “I like to buy a Loser’s Sandwich and take it back to the Starbucks and eat it there.”

“Don’t you mean a hero sandwich?”

“No. I mean a Loser’s Sandwich. I know what I mean. You look like you could use a Loser’s Sandwich.”

He’s staring at me the way he does.

He turns to the old cheapskate. “What are you staring at?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I asked you a simple question. You look to be appraising me. Are you a Homosexual?”

The old fart moves off, quickly.

“Thanks. I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“Join the club.”

“Club?”

“The Big Hug Loser’s Club. I’m a charter member. You might like to join. You look like a person who joins. You could be the treasurer.”

“I was never good with money.”

“That’s why you’re a loser.”

Is he smiling at me?

He moves off. I feel like pouring myself a full ounce of Pinot. Or maybe just chug the bottle. That’ll get me a raise, I bet. But who’s watching? Can my Superiors watch me from the cloud?

Now I’m getting paranoid.

This is what comes from having a job.

Not a bad idea

The big hug Loser’s club. Not a bad idea.

Every club has a motto.

What would our club’s motto be? How about this:

It’s better to be cool than smart.

Snoop Dogg showing off his shade

And we need a song. Every club has a song. How about this:

What the hell.

This is a good start.