Now that I have a job (cut to my parents high-fiving each other), I have been taking full advantage of the tasty adulthood-inducing perks that come with being employed. In addition to now receiving steady paychecks, health insurance, dental coverage, and a 401K account, I have also set up a life insurance policy, with the help of a very confused/judgey HR rep, naming my stuffed animal Ranger Rick as the sole beneficiary. Despite his penchant for tranny hookers, heroin, and horse-back riding, he is still likely to out live me and I want to make sure the people/inanimate objects with drug dependencies who took care of me will be taken care of down the line.
These standard benefits are terrific but, I have to admit, they felt a little boring. I scoured the new hire packets for a little something extra, but to no avail! This was it. There were no forgotten wrapped Christmas gifts in Mom’s underwear drawer. Just underwear! Oh, and piles of cash. Which I took.
And then, I found it. That extra something special that I knew I deserved…
The homeless man who guards the subway tunnel I need to walk through to get to work! Now, this may not sound like a “benefit” to you, and that’s because you’re probably a functioning human who didn’t take out a life insurance policy for an emaciated junky who is also a childhood toy. But this guy is great. It’s like being on an episode of Family Double Dare alone where your only option is “Physical Challenge” and the host is the hungry troll from the Three Bill Goats Gruff demanding that you pay him in American dollars. So yeah, I am living the dream, folks.
Sometimes he softens his approach, too. This morning, he was holding a bouquet of flowers, and I thought, “Finally! Someone who wants to be my Valentine!” However, I was mistaken.
Those were the flowers he wanted to pee on. Which he did.