Britain 1923s - Early 1900s
By Alexander Grey

I used to work at a restaurant. Within the first three days of my being hired, a large number of the employees at this establishment were found out to be illegal Czech republic immigrants. The immigrants were all laid off and I was put in charge of working breakfast and lunch shifts for, like, five days a week. This was initially very good. I made six dollars an hour plus tips, and it was really cushy in that time between breakfast and lunch rush. Yet I found a sort of emptiness with my contribution to the modern work force.

I realized it was my duty to spice up my day and baffle the customers. I invented the "once a day act of randomness" to prevent my ennui from overtaking my body and forcing it to commandeer a tractor into a local bookstore or something. By doing something completely absurd once a day, I could successfully go to sleep that night knowing full well that I made a difference, be it positive or negative.

For instance, a customer ordered a small glass of orange juice. I promptly brought him his orange juice, accompanied by a complimentary cup filled with mayonnaise. I didn't care for his reaction, because I knew my work had already been done, yet I watched as he awkwardly pushed it aside so he could get on with his day.

Now think about it. Not only have I made my day better by secretly chuckling at the absurdity of my actions, I've also made the next conversation he has with someone more interesting. Now, instead of the standard, "My day was fine, honey. Work was great, and Bob's watercooler-side joke was a riot," he gets to say, "I don't get it. The busboy" (my actual title was foodrunner... which was the equivalent of "glorified busboy") "brought me a full freaking cup of mayo with my orange juice."

And his wife would respond with, "Fuck! Holy crap!" or perhaps the more benign, "That's odd. Why do you suppose he did that?" And the subject of my chaos would come up with some sort of odd explanation to continue the conversation. My point is that I made his day better. NOT ONLY does he get to talk about his mundane day at work and the great joke his work buddy told, he also gets to throw in a bonus story about something that's never happened before and never will again.

This same theory applies to my generalized behavior and my interactions with peers. Those that think I kick ass hang out with me and have a good time and are the better for it. Yet, contrary to what one would think, the people who think I'm a twisted, psychotic fuck also have their existence improved by my interaction with them. They can all get together and talk about their mundane little existences and all agree when they look at my work (movies, music, etc.) and say, "Wow...that's fucked up." Without me, they'd have nothing to compare their status quo, cookie cutter lives to. They can always bond with another social sheep and say, "Man... you know Alexander Grey? I just don't get him." And the other sheep will respond with, "You're right. He's out there." Mission accomplished. Without any added effort on my part whatsoever, I made two people just a tiny bit closer because they both can bond over not understanding Alexander Grey. Everybody who interacts with me, whether they like me or hate me, wins.