I’m one of those types that if the speed limit is 55mph I’m going 64.5. If everyone else is driving 70 then I’m right behind you doing 69.9. I’m going forward as fast as I can get away with. Traffic lights anger me they impede my forward motion. Especially the smaller intersections where I may sit for 45 seconds at an empty 4 way crossing. How dare you stop me for nothing.

I’m always going faster than I have to.

Want to watch me lose my complete shit? Put someone in front of me doing the exact speed limit that’s posted. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you have somewhere to go? Why the hell are you even in your car? Go under the speed limit and I’m having fantasies of murder. Left lane? I’ll come for your family.

I’m joking.

But

Not by much.

I’m this way with everything.

Driving

Walking in malls or supermarkets

Costco? Fuck you if you aren’t pushing your cart at least 2.5 mph. They should have battering rams and horns. Either type of horn works for me to be honest. I’ll honk or gore. Your choice.

Long lines? That means standing still. Are you trying to kill me? I absolutely have to be moving.

Rest days are a joke for me. I’ll relax until about 10am then I’m doing something. Moving something, driving somewhere.

None of this is an exaggeration. I’ve been programmed over time. I imagine if I’d chosen a career of a librarian or a DMV clerk my forward motion would be much slower. Sense of urgency? Literally everything I do is attached to that vibe.

I woke up at 5:45 today. I didn’t sleep well last night, tossed and turned for no reason life ain’t bad just some nights my mind wanders. I normally get up at 5 at the latest. I get up do some Gangwer style tai chi, meditate, coffee, shower and walk before work. Add journaling into that time slot. I allocate three hours for it. Since I woke up at 5:45 I feel like my whole morning now is discombobulated. I have to sacrifice and of course I sacrifice anything that slows me down so no meditation, no chi and I cut my morning walk out by half. I’m still journaling but boy you outta see how often my eye scans the top left hand of my phone to see what time it is.

Every little thing I do is 9.5 miles over the speed limit.

I hate it. It affects my everything.

It’s what makes me high strung even though I’m in my 50’s.

*sips fourth cup of coffee

Maybe I should switch to decaf.

Just an fyi I rarely drink caffeine after 9am. I would probably die..

I’m trying to regulate my nervous system. I’ve become hyper aware over the last few months after my reckoning time was served that this was the next step.

Taming the fascia.

Obeying my own speed limit.

Cruising in the right hand lane on a sunny Sunday afternoon on a scenic highway. One hand on the wheel. Throw the damn horn out the window.

Setting my own personal cruise control. Taking the foot off of life’s accelerator.

It ain’t easy. Putting the bottle down was easier. I rarely drank before 5pm. All I had to do was keep the bottle away from me for the last few hours out of my day. Slowing things down starts at sunup and ends when I’m asleep.

I’ve known only one vocation my whole life. I’ve had a few other jobs such as a greens keeper at a golf course, I bagged groceries and even tried my hand at mortgage lending but it’s always been the hospitality industry for me.

There ain’t nothing hospitable on the other side of the counter.

I can’t speak for all vocations but I can speak firmly and accurately about mine. I was thrown into the foray of the service industry. No helmet no shoulder pads hardly any instructions.

Man I hate forced deadlines. They’ve been the bane of my existence for almost 40 years.

40

The Hyatt we had around 3 minutes to respond to room calls to and knock at their door to grab their luggage. The transportation side you may have an hour to drive to the airport and back or it may be 45 minutes. Ever gotten cussed out by a pilot for making him late for his own plane trip?

Serving? Just constant ptsd of your food coming out in a timely manner. Just take the fucking AZ steakhouse that I became brainwashed in for 16 years

Serving?

You had 45 seconds to greet the table with bev naps down

90- 120 seconds first rounds arrive. Rub a fucking lamp if you think service bar will have your margarita ready in two minutes on a Friday night. Apps out in 4-6 minutes, entrees 12-14 minutes. If they order dessert 6 minutes tops.

For a few months I was the guy in the kitchen that got yelled at once the tickets started reaching 17 minutes and they did often.

For about 10-12 year I was the guy that yelled at the kitchen when tickets hit 17. 20 minutes meant a table call. Table calls at Arizona in Greenville were a hoot. The things people will say to you when their food is late is astonishing. I got my face ripped off at least once a week. That was a good week. Simpsonville? Don’t get me started. Columbia? Worst of all three. My last two years I’d travel to all of the steakhouses and teach the managers how to yell at the line on expo. What a time to be alive man. I used to lose my voice every year from expoing. Southern I did inside expo. I had a dream just last night that I was working inside expo there. Haven’t expoed in 5 years. I’m still having in the weed dreams.

Weeds = PTSD. Perpetual fucking weeds

We could go round and round and round but I lose some of you after around 2000 words.

Brevity

Do I still experience the weeds in the deli? You bet your ass. I’ve fixed quite a bit but there will be days sandwich tickets get lost or I have to drive to Publix in 20 seconds because we sold 15 Bahn mis and now we are out of cilantro. Charcuterie? It’s all a deadline and timing situation. You fall behind when you have $2000 in boxes in 8 hours you’re fucked.

Completely fucked.

There’s no outside expo who will jump over the line and help out. There’s no bail. One lovely afternoon we had accidentally scheduled two grazing tables on the same Saturday. One in Clemson and one in Marietta. We drove to Clemson with the table for Marietta. We didn’t even get the first one right. I drove 85mph down 414 and arrived at the ceremony 3 minutes late. I still had to drive back to the station to make another grazing table with components I no longer had. We had friends driving around Greenville buying wooden boards and bowls. We did an another grazing table in 3 hours.

3

Hours

I almost walked away from my business that day. Not because it was as one bad day it was the accumulation of all of them coming back to me. My wife saved me that day by holding my belt loop while I dangled over the edge of a building. She’s done that a lot over the years.

I’m already high strung. This business feeds it. Sustains it. Sometimes mocks it. When you read about my burnout this is why. The weeds have broken me a hundred times and I still have to get back up or go away. Where the fuck would I go?

Breaths in

Breaths out

Yesterday I drove the speed limit the entire time. My morning walk I took my time and shortened it by a mile on purpose. Still walking just easier pace. I always find myself walking faster the last mile because I feel time creeping up on me. Even on my days off.

I’ve talked about how I make my coffee every morning like I’m first rounding a table. I changed my routine and now make it when I get home from work. I use a reverse osmosis machine for water. It’s like a watching a 90 year old man pee. It takes me a solid 6-7 minutes to make coffee. I do this specifically to slow my ass down. The fact that I can tell you that it takes 6-7 minutes is because I’m timing myself without even thinking about it.

It’s all still there. I’m even attempting to slow down my speech patterns.

Even when I write I’m trying to finish at a certain time. I’ll cut things short if I don’t.

Recreational activities I also rush. If I’m camping I’m hauling ass to my destination.

I’m setting up camp like a war storm is coming. The breakdown I’ll start the night before. I’ll have everything tidied up before bed. So I can get home as fast as I can. When I hike buddy I’m hiking like the park is closing in an hour.

I wasn’t born this way. My career molded me.

Programmed me

Ruined me

That last one was a little dramatic. I’m not ruined I’m fixing it bit by bit.

*looks at the time on my phone.

I’m driving the speed limit all day today.

In my car

In my deli

On my walk

Even if I go to Costco I’m doing the speed limit and I’m hanging in the right lane.

Slow and steady wins the race..

That’s what Ned Flanders would always say in the Simpson Road Rage video game.

Don’t think I’ll ever be Ned enough but at least im trying.