maybe I do eat the red ones last

I had picked the red smartie, the day had been shit and yet I had to have picked the red smartie.

It was a game designed to encourage sharing amongst all the new volunteers at the orientation night. I was there to offer my services to under privilege kids with tutorial services in math and physics, but in order to do so I had to pick a smarty first. I picked the red one.

The day at work, my last Friday before the lay off, had been taxing. Fear had found me in the morning and I worked the rest of the day fighting off the doubt about my success in figuring out what exactly to do next. My drive was nonexistent and I was truth be told looking forward to this orientation as a distraction from all things ‘next steps’. This anticipation thwarted as the volunteer coordinator explained why I had to have picked a smartie.

Each smartie corresponded to a question each potential volunteer would have to answer in an attempt to introduce each volunteer to the group with a personal revelation. As she posted the color coded legend on the chalkboard in front of us I gasped and uttered “fuck off” under my breath when I discovered that the question for the read smartie was ‘What is your passion and why?’.

I am not sure I have a single passion other then masturbation that defines me as a person. In fact I have spent my life searching for that definitive goal that pulls me out of bed always and clearly focuses my vocational trajectory. I have not found it yet. Earlier in the day I was told by two coworkers that I should be prepared to discuss in my next job interview the jump I had made from career one to career two. Discuss it almost to justify it like I had done something wrong or was to be considered lucky for the job that was very shortly laying me off.

“So Bradley, what is your passion and why?” the lovely altruistic volunteer coordinator asks of me as I hold my candy coated red pill. I wanted to throw it at her.

I bullshitted my way through something about cooking etc, it was a socially acceptable passion and appeased the group. It was my neighbors turn next and she had the pink smartie, the ‘what makes you laugh and why?’ smartie. I giggled and uttered under my breath ‘my inability to own the red smartie’.

One day.