I play music as a hobby. At one restaurant I play regularly, a guy started hanging around me about a year ago. We’ll call him M. M is 26 years old. He still lives with his parents. He got his first job last year, as a part-time cashier. He spent the previous six years earning an associates degree in general studies at the local community college (which, if you do the math, means he took about one class at a time, for the whole six years).
You might think with such a history that he’s mentally challenged. But he appears to be of average intelligence. He’s just *incredibly *lazy. When he said that he played harmonica and expressed an interest in learning more, I loaned him some instructional materials. He never cracked them open, not once, in the six months he held on to them. He never practices, and is still limited to the one or two licks he could play, very poorly, a year ago. He is, however, always pestering me to let him sit in. I’m too polite to be more honest with him (as are most people at the restaurant), so he has no clue how bad he sounds.
Several people who’ve observed him say he may suffer from some form of Asperger’s Syndrome. He will follow me so closely that he’s almost crashed into me a couple of times. If I get up to walk 10 feet to flip a light switch, he will tag along. The other night, I returned a cart to the grocery store next door that someone had left in front of the restaurant. When I came back, he was waiting in the doorway, announcing that he’d “needed some air”. Once I went to the bathroom, and he came in while I was at the urinal, assuring me, “It’s OK, I had to go too”. (And those aren’t the worst things he’s done!)
I get the impression that his parents over-accomodate out of sympathy for his social intelligence disabilities (I’ve met the father, who seemed like a reasonable guy, so I suspect the mother is overly protective). While understandable, it doesn’t seem like the best thing for M. He is milking their lenience for all it’s worth. He puts in his grueling 16-hour weeks and spends the rest of his time watching TV and playing video games. And eating. That’s another obvious problem M has: he is really overweight, does no exercise and eats a horrific diet. He will often eat a second dinner at the restaurant after eating dinner at home. I know that his health is none of my business, but he’s always telling me that he wishes he could lose weight. My suggestions that he should eat less and exercise a little are politely ignored. He was talking recently about asking his doctor for weight-loss drugs.
M is basically living the way I did when I was 12 years old and on summer vacation. Remember the sitcom, “Get a Life”, which starred Chris Elliot as a 30-year old paperboy who still lived at home? M makes that guy look like a human dynamo.
Why do I give two hoots about M?
First, I feel like an enabler: I actually regret encouraging him to play an instrument, when I honestly feel like he has more important things to focus on, like losing some weight or getting trained for a better job. And yes, I had thought that learning harmonica might have given him confidence to tackle more substantive things. But he doesn’t seem to want to actually learn anything. He’s content just being able to tell people that he’s a musician, and thinks that the efforts he’s made are sufficient. He only plays when there are people around, which wouldn’t be so bad if he could actually play. He once asked the owner if he could substitute for me when I was away for a week. The owner was about to laugh in his face, but I stepped in and explained to M that harmonica isn’t really a solo instrument, so an unaccompanied harmonica player can’t handle a three-hour gig on his own.
Which leads to the second reason: his insistence on squeaking on his harmonicas is getting to be a pain. One bartender (a retired MP who doesn’t mince words) once told him to “put the fuckin’ harmonicas away” while I was playing on stage. M responded, “F.U. is playing his guitar - why can’t I play my harmonicas?” Like a little kid who claims his brother got a bigger piece of pie.
One regular spoke at length with M once (he had asked the guy for job-hunting advice). The regular was amazed at how little M was willing to do to make himself more marketable. Suggestions that M should consider a course in computer repair were met with, “I don’t think the time is right for that” and other canned excuses. M puts a surprising amount of effort into getting his way with people he’s close to. It’s sad to think of what’s going to become of him after his parents are gone and he has to fend for himself.
The regular speculated to me afterward that M had suffered really bad bullying growing up, which frightened him of doing anything competitive. (M is about 5’3", and has a really high voice. If you met him, you would probably guess he’s 15). This made sense to me, and I wonder if taking up karate or something would be good for him.
My sad little stalker. At least he ain’t a knife-wielding Glen Close.