Ask an Opinionated Drunk

Thanks to the very name of our site, we at Drink at Work.com are often inundated with numerous career-related questions. But rather than provide you with glib answers or do anything that breaks us out of our regular routine of peanut butter crackers and napping, we instead now turn your queries over to our advice columnist, The Opinionated Drunk.

Q. When I accepted my new job, I was promised a "promotion track" position brimming with "career-defining" potential. As it turns out, because of the nature of the organization for which I work, my job has mostly involved a lot of tedious paperwork with all the aggravation, but none of the fun, of doing one's taxes. Am I the victim of a bait-and-switch technique or is this just the slow start to greater things? — Stalled in Secaucus

Opinionated Drunk: Sometimes you just have to make the best of a bad situation, like the time I sprayed water on a small grease fire only to watch my illegal sublet burn down but then later found a nickel at the shelter. For example, a few years ago when I was just starting out starting over yet again, I took a position defined as perfect for a "team player" who wanted to "think on their feet" in a "collaborative environment" where one could "truly be proactive" and "determine their own career path." But then the bottom fell out of the carny business. So much for the so-called "New Economy." Gone were my dreams of a lucrative career guessing people’s weight, age or—in the "red states"—our customers’ ethnicity or sexual preferences. Instead, like you, I was relegated to pushing papers around on a desk in what proved to be the travelling sideshow’s least enjoyable performance attraction ever. Eventually I was downsized—to the midget tent—and forced to juggle people no bigger than your average well-fed twelve-year-old, which not only proved hell on my back but resulted in more head traumas and spinal cord injuries than I wish to admit in print. By the end I was left with nothing to do but hide the liquor from the clowns, who proved even more frightening sober than when they were on a Listerine bender. Still, I did get plenty of fresh air, grew to appreciate facial hair on women and even got to keep a two-headed calf as a pet until bad press over "Mad Cow" disease forced us to advertise it as a it as a two-headed unicorn, only to have the animal stolen one night by the Society for Creative Anachronisms. But looking back I had fun and when there’s no cash to be made, nothing else really matters…except health insurance, a roof over your head and meals that don’t consist entirely of spare cotton candy and peanut shells. Ahh, good times. Good times indeed.

If you have a work-related problem and are sick and tired of seeking help from highly-qualified professional career counselors, post your question in the comments section below and we'll give it to The Opinionated Drunk just as soon as he's through screaming at the Golden Tee machine at the far corner of the bar.