Nihilism in the Cafeteria

I love my job. I really do. As much as anyone can love a job, I love mine.

Some days I find it annoying, some days I find it tiring, some days I don't want to come in, but I almost never have days that I dread going to work.

It's a fun job, I get to interact with kids all day, which keeps you mentally alert, because you never know where the next psychological attack is coming from next. I feel good about the fact that I'm making some small part of the the universe a slightly better place. I try to make music fun but still make the kids think about stuff.

So, really, seriously...I love my work.

But into every person's life, shadows must creep. And every now and then the stark reality of the vastness of the universe and our feeble attempts to make sense of it all are thrown into our faces when we least expect it. Every so often, a moment occurs which shatters our comfortable worldview, and leaves us staring bleakly at the emptiness and lack of meaning that we try so hard to block out with our routines, our distractions, our hopes.

It happened to me today...during lunch duty.

Again, I usually don't mind all the ketchup packets, Caprisun pouches, and orange slice bags I have to open. It's mindless work, but it doesn't turn lunch into a Ingmar Bergman film. But today...today...

...

My duty mate and I were idly passing the time, lamenting how none of the kids were even trying the sweet potato fries, when suddenly, there he was in front of me. I'm not even sure I remember the kid's name...but he had no ketchup or mayonnaise to open...no need to use the restroom...no, he had something far more terrifying to relay. He looked at me with dead eyes and spoke the words which still to this moment are echoing around my mind and I have no doubt will continue to do so until my final breath, like a modern-day 3rd grade "Nevermore"...


"Dwight ate my corn dog."


I stood paralyzed. I looked at my co-worker, unsure of what had just happened. I'm sure she must have felt it too, the feeling that the room had suddenly gotten darker, the air more stagnant, that all of us had somehow died just a little bit inside. Stalling for time, I asked the child-harbinger of doom to repeat himself.


"Dwight ate my corn dog."


I couldn't speak. Suddenly in that moment, everything seemed pointless. All my struggles amounted to less than a drop in the ocean. The Total Perspective Vortex had done its work. I tried to compose myself, but the kid had already walked back to his seat...he could feel it too...he didn't even want me to try to fix the situation, because what was the point? He was done delivering his message of despair.

And I sat and wondered at where my life had taken me, where all I was reduced to was being informed of an illicit lunch consumption. All our lives, our hopes, our dreams, are just corn dogs in the cosmos, and eventually, despite all our struggle...we get eaten by Dwight.

So to all of you - strive, strive to find some solace, some meaning, some hope...and pray that you never come face-to-face with the fiery messenger, and hear the words that clamp the ice around your heart...


"Dwight ate my corn dog."