I was at my girlfriend’s house one evening, sitting on the back porch and drinking a beer. The sun was just beginning to set over the distant mountains.
The back door opened and shut, and my girlfriend, Joanne, joined me on the porch swing.
“You feeling OK?” she asked, taking my hand.
I nodded, taking a small sip of beer. “Yeah, I’m OK. Why?”
“You just seem quiet. You didn’t say much at dinner.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m just tired. It’s been so hot lately, and by the time I get home, I’m exhausted. I never feel like I get enough downtime.”
“Are you still looking for other jobs?” Joanne asked.
I tilted my head. “Yeah, sort of. There’s not much out there. It would be nice to have an office job where I could work inside in the air conditioning. But none of them pay much more than what I’m making now.”
“Would you take an office job if you were offered one? I mean, despite the lousy pay?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What I do now isn’t that bad. The physical part gets old, but at least I get to work in the fresh air and sun. I’m not sure I’d want to give that up to work in a stuffy office answering phones.”
“Yeah.” Joanne nodded. “I don’t think you’d like being a receptionist or anything like that. Answering phones and dealing with the general public is the worst. If you’re going to switch jobs, then it should be for something you know you’d really like — not just going from one miserable job to another. It’s like they say: the grass isn’t always greener.”
I moaned, closing my eyes.
“What?” Joanne asked, her eyes widening.
I shook my head. “Given my current profession of mowing lawns all day, I’m not a big fan of that particular phrase.”