Oh yeah, “the Thrill is Gone.”
I just came back from the pub, and it’s a very strange feeling, as I’ve only had 2 pints in the last 2 hours. That’s way below quota. Way, way below; if I were a line worker in some dodgy Mainland manufacturing plant, I would probably not be getting my rice rations for the week.
What’s wrong with me? Instead of staying out getting thoroughly blottoed, I’ve actively decided to come back home and get on SWSF pages 669 to 672. What is this new, alien sensation overcoming me with utter disregard for rhyme or reason? Is that maturity and responsibility I see or just the big, gaping gash of a zero-point-zero on the Final Exam that’s just pulled me back in from some thoroughly missed bar banter?
Whatever the case, I do have to say I’ve started to look at the world with a bad-a$$ new set of lenses. The 24-hour store has morphed into a living lesson in PPP; my mates are no longer just drinking buddies, but “foreign labour surplus” (who just happen to get more than 4x what I get); and debits and credits have become a higher priority than whiskey and diet coke!
I guess this is one of those things that the CCMBA program was meant to do – you know, aside from “intentionally developing tension”. I guess, those 2 torrid, horrid weeks have re-aligned my thought processes and now I’m thinking “yeah, it’s ok to sacrifice an evening’s craic for a P=MBA.”
Sure, the thrill might be gone, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to stay gone. I’ve only got one shot at a better life; the next pint is always gonna be there.