Back when I shaved every day for my job, I attended a work function meant to build morale. It was your typical event that involved a few innocuous activities, enough alcohol to make Hemingway puke and an intimate dinner with people you’d never met before.

Before we were seated, we each had a small survey to fill out with questions like, “What is your favorite animal?” and “Have you ever been to Europe?” I rolled my eyes as I read through each of these arbitrary questions, unsure why anyone would care to know my favorite ethnic cuisine.

After our appetizers were served, the designated leader of the table had to go around the table and introduce each of us to the rest of the table. Out table’s leader, a small woman who was more interested in getting free bread than anything we had to say, began reading off the surveys we filled out.

I learned that some guy named Paul likes sushi, a woman named Betka likes the movie Gone With The Wind and that a guy named Erik likes cars. I thought to myself, ‘thank goodness I’ve learned such deep and important details about these people I care to know nothing about.’

When the table leader got to me she announced, “This is Patrick. When Patrick was growing up he wanted to be…independently wealthy.”

The table turned towards me. They all looked confused.

It was true though. When I realized that I would never be the starting shortstop of the Red Sox, I put all my dreams into the idea that I would be rich and not required to work. At a very young age I realized what a job really was, and I didn’t want to have any part of it.

Unfortunately, that’s not how life worked out for me. Instead, like so many people before me, reality reared its disgustingly fat face and I was forced to work for money. However, even though every job since my first part time job at 15 to now was in the name of getting money, my reason for needing money has drastically changed.

Hardware Store:

I have no idea why they hired me at the local hardware store. I knew nothing about anything – let alone hardware matters – and my general skills, to this point, involved obsessing about making the varsity basketball team.

Regardless of their reasoning, I was ecstatic to have a job because it meant I could buy CDs. My brother had an impressively large music collection and I desired one for myself. I figured out that at $6 an hour, every day would be an opportunity to buy four new CDs. By the end of the summer I could have almost 200 CDs.

Apparently it's not something you would find in the paint aisle...

Every time I wondered through the aisles blindly looking for an Auger (while having zero idea what the hell an Auger was!) I was inches closer to a new CD. Every time I had to listen to a customer tell me stories about the nutrients in specific horse grains, I was imagining opening up the plastic wrap on a brand new CD.

At the end of the summer, I had almost 200 CDs neatly organized into a display case. The next summer, I threw them all out because I was embarrassed to own all those crappy Less Than Jake CDs.

Admissions Councilor:

One of the things people love about college is that even though it’s your first step into the real world, there’s absolutely nothing real about it. A campus acts as a comfort blanket where forced meals plans make eating, supplies and fun accessible from a card.

The one thing you can’t buy with the card happens to be the only thing you really need – beer.

My senior year I got a job with the Admissions Department conducting interviews for prospective students. The reason they entrusted students with such an important task is because, well, it wasn’t that important. Interviews at my school weren’t required and were generally discouraged. Since so many parents demanded someone sit down and see how brilliant their child was, they let students conduct the interviews.

Worked just fine for me. I would show up, listen to kids talk in their best attempt at diction and think about the beer that would come as a result of it.

As these pre-pubescent turds poured their guts out about the most meaningful experience in their Nothing Has Happened life, I imagined carrying a 30 pack under my arm as I strode to the car. Every time a kid talked about their countless hours of community service, I thought about the countless beers I was going to drink before these twerps got to their interview at Tufts later in the day.

It was a gig I wouldn’t have objected to continuing indefinitely.

1st Job Post College:

My first job in New York City paid me what accounted to two beans and a smile. Paying rent was hard. Eating was virtually impossible.

One day, I made the horrible mistake of breaking down my hourly wage after taxes. I wept as I realized I’d taken a significant pay cut from my days at the hardware store. Each pay check meant day old bagels, a can of black beans (maybe) and a big fat rent check to continue living in the cruel cycle.

Current Job:

Black Beans for EVERYONE!!!

This...and health care I don't use

While things have improved and I’ve stopped thinking about each day as a way to buy one specific thing, I still hold a slice of that mentality. The other day, as I walked through a farmers market, I saw corn on the cob (the answer to the, “What is your favorite food?” question from the work function questionnaire). After my initial excitement, I said, “$2 for 5?!? What a rip off. No way.” However, now that I’m older, stopped having “dreams,” and realize that corn on the cob is as good as it’s going to get, I circle back around, realizing that being able to buy something that makes me happy is the reason I work.

That, and because I’m convinced people only like me because I buy beer for them.