Thirty Bucks Worth of Beer

“Tell me about yourself,” said the waitress.

“Why?”

“Because you seem interesting. Everyone who comes in here just drones on and on about their new cars and real estate deals. No one in here ever talks about anything of substance.”

“Like what?”

“Like the meaning of life.”

“Never notice when you win. Never care when you lose. And always smile.”

“What’s that? The meaning of life?”

“To me it is.”

“Oh,” she said. “Let me get you another beer.”

And she got me another beer.

“How can you not notice when you win?”

“It takes practice.”

“How would I start to practice?”

“What do you want right now, that you are having trouble attaining?”

“Well,” she said. “I’d like to find a nice guy. One who’s smart, funny, attractive and real.”

“Okay, now imagine you’ve found him.”

She smiled.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ve found him.”

“Now imagine he dies a week after declaring his love for you.”

“Oh no.”

Her face curved into a frown.

“Why would I want to do that?” she asked. “That’s like killing a dream.”

“Exactly,” I said. “You see, for most people, life is a series of ups and downs. You can’t enjoy not having what you want, you can’t stop yourself from enjoying what you have, and then you can’t bare to lose what you have. It just goes on like that. Over and over again. You want it; you’re unhappy. You get it; you’re happy. You lose it; you’re unhappy again. And on and on.”

“So?”

“So, by eliminating the need for happiness, you eliminate the unhappiness as well. You are now free to always smile.”

“Is this easy for you?”

“No.”

“Do you want another beer?”

“Yes.”

She never said a word to me the rest of the night. She just kept the beers coming. But hey, at least she picked up my tab.