Stepping into the “real” world needs an alarm clock

By James Allorski

I AWOKE WHILE it was still dark outside. Six forty-five in the morning. I don’t remember the last time I saw that hour without being on some sort of bender.

I laid in bed, looked at the ceiling and formed one complete thought.

“So this is what my life could be, eh?”

The waking up at truly morning hours. The showering with the lights on. The buttoning a crisp white shirt over perfectly creased suit pants. The tying and retying of a tie until it hangs perfectly at my belt. That’s what I could have. That’s what I want?

Maybe it is. Structure is what I’ve been missing. Structure is what my body craves. Bed at the same time. Wake at the same time. Work out on the same days. Routine, habits. You don’t know how important they are until you live a life without them.

I know I’ve lived a life without structure, which is why I was putting on a suit at 7:15 on Tuesday morning. Job interview promptly at 8.

What job? It’s not really important, other to say it isn’t in the journalism industry — my previously chosen field — and it could finally give me a little bit of balance in my life.

The back story you might already know. But on Oct. 15, I was let go by a Web site I had taken a job with less than three months earlier. It left me with no money in the bank and no real way of making any more. My next check would likely come from the unemployment office. Times were drastic.

I sent out a few resumes. Ok, I sent out one resume. To a job on Monster.com that looked like all the rest. Nothing fancy, but daytime hours, weekends off and no jeans. Maybe something I needed, no matter what the industry. Well, they called back, invited me in for an interview and then invited me in for a second interview.

Which was at 8 a.m. Never heard of 8 a.m. Never wanted to hear about it. Never was a big fan of mornings. But as I laid there staring at the ceiling, I told myself I had to do this. Had to go on this second interview, which lasted a full work day. Needed to see what life was like working a normal job. Something other than 2-11 p.m. as a sports writer, trying to beat deadline, getting paid nearly nothing for doing nearly everything.

I shadowed a potential future coworker throughout the day. I was tired the whole time. My feet hurt, too. But otherwise, it was a largely pleasant experience. And by the end of the day, I had a job offer.

No sir, I said, I can’t accept that right away. I must consult with my family before I make a decision. He understood, asked me to get back to him by Wednesday morning.

Fair enough.

Tuesday night, I called my mom, who said I should take the job. I’ve recently realized that every bad thing in my life happened because I didn’t listen to my mom. I swallowed hard, woke up at 8:30 Wednesday morning and accepted the job. I write this now at 11:20 on Wednesday night. I am due in the office at 7:30 Thursday morning to fill out paperwork. I have to wear a suit again. My official start date is Monday and, of course, I have to wear a suit then, too.

I only have one suit.

But Monday is the day my life changes completely. It’s the day I give into society and take a job with logical advancement and decent wages. I feel good about that, actually.

I feel good about that because my life is screaming for that structure. It’s long been obvious to me that piddling away at a newspaper, chasing that goal of becoming a well known national columnist, just wasn’t the way to go. Maybe you can call it giving up on your dream. I call it adapting.

It hurts a little, sure. But what am I supposed to do when there are no jobs for me in my chosen field and no money coming in anymore? My bank statement, as of tonight, reads negative 100 dollars. I just emailed my mom to borrow money. I swore to her that it is the last time that will ever happen. I’ve made that promise several times before.

But it is time for that to stop. Thirty years old is too old to be borrowing money from mom. And if there is a bigger example of being a fuck up, then I can’t think of it.

So that’s what I’m hoping comes of this. But yes, maybe I’ll admit that I sort of feel I am giving up on my dreams a little bit. Maybe I feel a little like a failure right now. I devoted 12 years of my life to being a sportswriter, and it’s hard now to see me ever getting back into that field.

Sure, I’ll send out portfolios to my dream jobs. And I’ll try to help build the Man Faq into a media giant. But right now, it just seems so far away.

I need a job that doesn’t define me. Just something that takes up 40-50 hours a week, pays the bills and allows me to have some fun from time to time. That’s what I seem to have starting Monday.

And that’s why I feel ok about it. It might not be what I want, but I know it is what I need.