Slacker Chatter

Dear Rex the Ringmaster,

I work in the financial sector. Once a month, our firm brings in a guest speaker.

Someone with a unique perspective.

For motivation. Sometimes it’s insightful, maybe even inspirational.

I usually enjoy it.

But our speaker for next month?

He’s big in the “paintball community.”

Like, he’s a professional paintball player.

An grown adult who makes a living … at paintball.

I’m happy for him, I guess. If he can get by without a real job, good for him.

Me? I’ve got to rise and grind.

I’m Type A, sure, but not by choice.

Out of sheer necessity.

I don’t have the luxury to play games.

Now I’m supposed to sit through a speech from a dude whose business acumen ranks one step above laser tag?

Please explain how this became my life.

Signed,

Senseless Paintball Lectures Are Trash

Dear SPLAT,

Your letter raises many questions.

Only one really matters: You are not Type A by choice?

By force, then?

A hostage, perhaps.

Held captive by reality, or foolish pride, or some rules you created in your own mind.

I have good news.

None of these shackles are permanent.

Your dreams – YOUR DREAMS! – are worth something.

Paintball Guy chased his dreams, and now he’s giving talks to Type-A finance people.

You’re smart enough to taste the irony.

I think that’s what fueled your letter.

Paintball Guy is indeed not the problem.

His lecture is not what you fear hearing.

You fear looming thunder.

The rising crash of what else could be.

The horizon quaking with lost chances.

If you could do anything in this world, what would you do?

What would that look like?

Who would you be?

I wonder if you even know.

Take measure of the audience in your mind.

The show must go on, yes.

But the show is quite yours to choose.

Counterpoint Commentary by …

Bimple the Clown

Paintball, huh?

Yeah, sounds dumb.

Paintball isn’t the problem, businessman.

I see it all the time.

Clowns take a lot of mockery, a lot of ribbing, a lot of straight-on disrespect.

Especially from people like you.

You said it yourself, you live the Type A life, you run the rat race, you make that mortgage payment come hell or high water.

You grew up, became an adult, and that kid that acted the fool?

That fool is gone gone gone.

Maybe he comes out at night.

After five whisky sours.

After you smoke some herb.

After you scratch your own itch on the Internet.

I don’t judge. We all do what we’ve got to do.

But me and the other clowns and this paintball asshole?

We get to act the fool.

And you?

You don’t.

The jealousy is oozing from your query, it’s running down the screen of my laptop, its bubbling up through the keyboard and burning my router.

Tell yourself you’re better while your heart pumps purple with envy.

Question: Is Captain Paintball truer to himself than you’ve ever been in your entire life?

Question: Whom do you suppose is happier?

Question: What, if anything, are you going to do about it?

I say listen to Paintball Guy and maybe, just maybe, you might learn a thing or two.