The road less cycled

Spent the evening working tonight, at Domino’s, and am actually still sitting here in my uniform as I write. Put in an 8 hour or so shift, one of my longest to date, as usually I’m in by 4 and out by 9 or 10. I’ll be working quite a bit more over the coming month or so as I try to keep pace financially a little bit. To date I’ve been limiting myself to one or two days a week just because of all the exam and essay pressures, and because I’m really not sure I want to stick around for too long – I have a rather mercenerial approach to this job, and don’t want it to turn into a situation where I get into a comfort zone and suddenly find I’ve been there way too long.

I feel it’s the trap my brother fell into – started in Gr. 11, worked his way up, and now, 5 years later, is supervising a couple of the local stores. Which is great, but to spend 5 years in one location in the food industry? I just don’t know if I could do that. I tend to think that once you’ve learned something, mastered it, made it second nature, it’s probably time to move on and tackle something new. On the other hand, it’s opened up quite a few doors for him and he’s done well. But this is my blog, not his, and I have enormous respect for his ability to make the sensible decisions.

Friends have commented on the unlikely prospects of me doing this job – me, the longtime die-hard cyclist who somewhat snobbishly dismisses all things polluting, darting around the city in a SOV and burning gas like there’ll be no tomorrow, delivering pizzas topped with all that which, quite honestly, I detest. The pepperoni, bacon, beef, sausage – all products of a culture which accepts that our food is raised in often inhumane conditions, fed with food identical to that which many people around the world are eating and which has enough nutritional content to feed many times the number of people thatwill be fed on the meat produced. There’s implicit acceptance that the slaughtering process has to be done somewhere completely removed from the end consumer, in complete ignorance of the social or ethical question marks raised by this process. Or maybe we don’t just accept this disconnect between food production and consumption – maybe we demand it. Could we handle this disconnect being removed? On a bit of a side note, I caught myself being politically incorrect again today. (Those who know me will know I have a slight tendency to shoot my mouth off in ways I’ll regret later). Seems most every place I deliver to has a dog or a cat or two who love to greet the pizza guy, which gives me a bit of a diversion while I wait for the customer to complete the transaction. Anyway, on one of my last deliveries, I noticed a canine companion with a definite interest in the pizza, and I commented as I left, “Share some with the dog too, eh” – not realizing until afterwards what the underlying message could have been interpreted as!

Do I feel a sense of guilt over working in an industry which is completely immersed in this unsustainable culture? Yeah, some, but at the same time, as long as the demand is there, bodies will be needed to serve it up and prepare it. At a certain point, economic realities take over, and until our culture as a whole realizes what it’s supporting and demands alternatives, things aren’t going to change. So why do I still get this nagging feeling that I’m not trying hard enough to find work that I can feel great about doing?

Maybe part of the answer to that is simply that actually, unexpectedly, there’s a certain appeal to doing this job. I’ve never had the desire or motivation to get myself a vehicle, so now that I have, there’s a certain sense of freedom which comes with it. Zipping around town, being one with the road, the traffic, relying on a combination of reflex, reaction, observation, and motor skills (in the bodily sense), does bestow a certain sense of exhilaration. Of being in control; free of the cares and stresses of day-to-day life. For that 15-20 minutes, 10-20 times a night, that it takes to do a delivery, I’m entirely free – free to reflect a little bit on the day, on what tomorrow will bring, on what I’ll put in my blog. That feeling of control is one that is actually quite rare these days, as it seems I just barely keep up with the minimum of my obligations. It’s one of two polar opposite feelings which I think benefit everybody – feeling in charge, confident, relaxed but alert; and on the other hand, being able to relinquish control completely – to somebody else, to a deity, or simply to the open skies, and being able to trust that you’ll be taken care of despite your complete and utter vulnerability.

It’s entirely delusional, of course, as I realize when I’m jolted back to reality, remembering that, really, there’s no freedom in this. I’m still reliant on the liquid black gold flowing out of the Middle East; still merely a pawn to be manipulated by the oilmen with their hands on the levers that have the power to make our society stop, go, dance on a string like a puppet, do whatever suits their latest fancy. I’m still chained to my car – I may be the one gunning the gas today, but tomorrow, it’s the one demanding another fill-up, another repair, another tune-up, another insurance payment, and so on. Really, it’s a cruel hoax and a false promise based on the myth that these last hours of ancient sunlight will never run out. The party’s over, folks, and the sooner we realize it the better. But for now, I’ll bottle all that up, and take my place at a bar that’s slowly emptying as people realize that the real party, the party of sustainability, is just around the corner. Yeah, I’ll be there too, but just give me minute, ok?

Can I get that topped up again? Pour it real slow, too – I want to savor this one…