Making One's Life Easier

It's always good to do a "people inventory" every now and then. As a function of time we collect a lot of "people" in our lives. Too many of low quality can make one's life far too complicated.

After several wasted nights out of calories recently I have decided to remove everyone off my “going out” list who:

a) can’t turn up on time.
b) goes to bars and restaurants that even as a student I would not have visited.
c) can’t give “yes”, “no” answers without going in over their head with deep meaningless conversation.
d) is work obsessed


a) Turning up on time

is self explanatory. I am almost 32 years old. The average life expectancy of a NZ female is around 80 years old. My Nan and all her sisters lived angelic alcohol and drug free lives past 90, their mother likewise to 103. My Grandmother to 85. But I differ. I don’t expect to live nearly that long as I work, eat meat and drink champagne. My stress is far greater. Living three years in Hong Kong surely must have knocked at least 10 years off that life expectancy in any instance. Take more time for the alcohol and substance years in my 20’s.

If I can expect to live another 40 years to age 72, some of which will be utter pants unless I can get into a rest home with a running supply of Dom Perignon and a Michelin stared Chef, I simply haven't got time to fuck around waiting for people to show up.

7.30pm for dinner doesn’t mean you leave home at 7.30pm in the cab then tell me the traffic is bad so you will be another hour. What am I meant to do in the meantime? I am not allowed to friggin’ order anything to eat by social convention so I have to sit at the bar and drink. By the time you get there I will not only be pissed, chances are I would have found better company.

My biggest concern with latecomers is that they usually are not worth waiting for in any instance.




b) The budgeters

is self explanatory again. I am 32 years old and have been in the upper income bracket of most first world countries now for well over half of my working career, more so since leaving the low-income paradise of New Zealand.

I simply won’t go to bars where the drinks are happy hour price as this only attracts Jews, Yorkshiremen, leechers and prostitutes. I can afford to be in nice places with nice(r) people, eating and drinking nice food and alcohol. Don’t make me sit with people who worry about the price of electricity, talk about minimum wage and the wealth gap and moan about the cost of household detergents. Or those who loudly complain about the price of everything in the bar or restaurant that "it's expensive". People who scan the drinks list not for what is in that mystery cocktail, but for the price of the drink. Those that regardless of how much money they make, will forever be pleading poverty so they don’t have to pay their round. We don’t have to go to the Ritz Carlton, but I am simply not going to bother anymore with bars that would do University pubs proud and restaurants that are no better than McDonalds. I would rather stay at home, order a pizza and watch a DVD.

Being afraid of the "snobby" people who attend nice establishments is ridiculous. Yes, they are wankers. But they shower. And you can either ignore them (as likely they are you) or quietly and subversively make fun of them, all in the meantime enjoying clean toilet facilities and tables that have been wiped down at least once in the past decade.



c) The philosophy wankers

this group rounds off a bad night. You run into them everywhere. Those who think they are deep thinkers but they are really just boring fuckwits because they don’t actually say anything even after talking for half an hour non-stop. Wellington as a city is overpopulated with particularly women of this breed. They have no commercial nous for anything and so will forever be poor or pretend to be so. They will quote from scholars that they really shouldn’t be quoting because they have never actually turned any of their knowledge into even entertainment. Thing is, these people usually don’t actually achieve or do anything. Often they are into sci-fi and speak to each other in code. Some have Ph.D’s and fake intellect but really they are just boring fucks who spent far too long at University. They will find out you are a lawyer or other professional and challenge you to a duel for some kind of masturbation session that is designed to make them feel better about never having turned their intellect into something of fiscal sustainability. Change the subject quickly to sports and they will soon disappear back up their own arse where they come from.

They either live off their parents still, or bludge off other people including the taxpayer under the mask of a job in the public service. Most Wellingtonians in this category are bureaucrats and talk endlessly about politics. They call MP’s by their first names and look upon them as demi-gods all the time without possessing an original thought of their own. These are the kind of people that when they meet you and find out accidentally that you have a blog, start calling you excitedly by your blog name. Oh dear, shoot me or medicate me.



d) The work obsessed

these people need to be dropped on their head. Especially if they work for your competitor. I really don’t care if they hate their job, boss or salary. I don’t care if their client is a prick, tightwad or won’t pay the fee. I don’t care what their next career move is or the intricacies of section 34(2)(b)(i). I don't want to discuss the latest job opportunity they have supposedly been offered but will never bloody take. I especially don’t care if they have to work until 9pm on a Friday and so can’t meet up until then. If I have stayed out from finishing work on Friday the last place you want to meet with me is if you are sober at 9pm. That’s not a time to catch up for dinner or drinks, that’s a time to arrange a bootie call. Last of all, I don’t care if they are “busy”. Everyone is “busy”. And guess what? No one needs to know if you are busier than the busiest person in the world.