Do you think it’s ok to be high at work?
Sure. I’m working, and I’m high right now. Not on purpose, mind you. But when you live in a shed, you room with some pretty gnarly chemicals. Like within any shared household, compromise is key: I don’t force them to create explosive substances by which to make good on my manifesto threats, and they get me high in return. Just like all of my past successful roommate situations. Everybody wins.
As to your question, It depends on the job obviously. This being a Tipped Off column, I’m going to assume that you meant working at a restaurant, not working at a daycare. If you work at a daycare, I don’t know what to tell you, David. Quit maybe? Then get high.
But at a restaurant there’s some leeway. However, it comes down to how you’re able to answer the following questions:
1. Are you good at your job when sober?
2. Can you function well when high?
3. What kind of “high” are you?
4. Is your manager high?
5. Is the restaurant tanking?
6. Are you a nihilist?
So to break it down:
If you’re good at your job when sober, then you are going to be able to get away with sin. Everyone knows you’re untouchable if you’re lead server. They can talk that zero policy bull all they want, but you know and they know if you show up on time, do your job and do it well while requiring minimal guidance from management, that you can show up desert-mouthed and red-eyed and they’re not gonna can your ass.
Why? Because you’re lead server, you shining fucking star. You should try your hand at murder sometime. Test out the true extent of that wielded power. UN-TOUCH-A-BLE. Unless…
…you can’t function well when high. This is going to completely negate everything I just commended you on. Because you’re not being cool, man. Just be cool. You’re gonna get us arrested. Just shut up and let me do the talking. What did you dose on anyway?
HO-LY SHIT. Tell me you didn’t snort flakka before coming to work. And now you’ve gone full Florida. YOU NEVER GO FULL FLORIDA. This is not the kind of high you want to be at work. Uninterpretable interpretive rabid-chicken dance is generally frowned upon. So far you still might be ok though, David. Lucky for you the customers think it’s just part of an in-house server birthday performan— Shit, never mind… you’re eating their faces now. I’m not sure if there’s any way to spin this.
Although, if your manager is high too, you might still be able to salvage this.
Look, he’s been a server before as well. And he’s definitely also been high at work before. And he’s possibly high right now. If you know he’s high, particularly because you sold to him and even got high with him in the parking lot before work, then you’ve got leverage. Use it. Or eat his face. If you’re still hungry. Either way, you’re taking charge and solving problems.
Of course if you’re working a dead-end job at a restaurant that’s been circling the shitter long before its employees turned zombie, then why do you even care, David? Get as high as you want. You’re not going anywhere here. This is as pointless as your daycare job, only with less mature clientele. Your flakka-addiction may be the most interesting thing you even have going for you at this point. The only reason you’ve even stayed at this job this long is because…
Nothing matters. Life has no intrinsic meaning or value so why should you aspire to be anything more than a shit employee at a shit restaurant where shitty customers eat shit and tip you shittily? Answer: you shouldn’t, David, if you don’t think you should. Get as high as you want, Deb-Downer. It’s as good a reason as any. And I’m sure not gonna talk you out of it. A healthy dash of nihilism hurts no one. Get it? Cause you’re a “no one”. And it actually hurts you. It’s just that your pain doesn’t matter. Even though you feel it and think it does. That why you continue to add to the shitpile, through a subconsicous effort to acknowledge your acceptance of existential insignificance even though the only person that hurts is you, further facilitating your descent into ultimate madness. It’s your destiny, after all, David. And who would I be to deny you that? Just another ‘no one”.
Let’s not overstate the importance of service-industry work here, ok?
Yes, you have to multitask, and yes, customers are generally horrible people, and yes, if you wanted to waste your life you probably could’ve found a more lucrative way to do so if only you had the body for it, but serving is essentially dropping plates off at tables and making casual small-talk. You can TOTALLY do that while high if you’ve half a brain.
And I know you do, David, because I saw you munching on one during that flakka-fueled snack-attack. So get as high as you want. Tell them Sir Jables, a man who lives in shed, said that you could. They’ll mouth, “He’s crazy” to each other as they haul you away.
And can you blame them, David? I mean, all you really ever had to do was show up to work sober. It’s a six-hour shift. You could’ve still gotten high after work. But you’re an addict. And I’m an enabler. Not out of misguided love. But rather because I enjoy stoking the swirling chaos of others into a blaze by which I might roast my S’mores of gooey evil content.
Sir Jables' vast wealth of knowledge can be tapped at firstname.lastname@example.org. He can also be contacted by Morse code eye-blinking, intentionality in astral projection, or through his Ouija username: hailsatan.