The Year of the Shrimp
Let me start by clearing up your expectations, maybe disappointingly, the “year of the shrimp” is not a whimsical reference to a metaphorical sea creature in traditional Chinese calendar-style, though that would be cute. Under the Chinese Zodiac, 2025 is actually the year of the snake, symbolizing good fortune and fertility.
What I mean by “year of the shrimp” is that this summer I’ve been surviving a full-time job as a catering manager for a low-country seafood boil company. Cue the shrimp.
Dancing shrimp. Yes I drew this specifically for this moment.
What makes this particularly interesting and comical is that I am vegan, and all day I assemble and pitch the glory of shrimp boils to tourists who travel to the Outer Banks for an authentic, southern, and casual beach-going experience. All day, I experience the grandeur of defrosting farm-raised shrimp imported from Ecuador in an industrial grade sink under the cruel comfort of fluorescent lights and the ever-present scent of fishiness. Do I tell people it’s local? That’s none of your business (it’s not my business either lol).
I fear I smell like seafood all the time now and giggle when small children enter the store and immediately pinch their noses decrying their mothers, “Mommy! It smells like FISH. EW!!”. My favorite interaction was a recent child who declared to their parents that people shouldn’t eat shrimp, that they’re gross because they spend their time cleaning other fish and are bottom-feeders. I was impressed by this child’s knowledge of shrimp given he was max 6 years old. Decidedly, not an iPad kid. It felt validating to hear a child who has yet to learn cognitive dissonance explain that it’s weird to eat the sea bugs when we don’t have to, but I digress.
This brought up a memory of when I first became vegetarian and thought I may still eat fish (pescatarian), so I ordered a shrimp scampi pasta dish at a restaurant with my family. I remember the dish arriving and having a moment of total despair seeing their little curled up bodies splayed across my plate, and yes--god--I began to cry. I cried about the shrimp's little nervous systems and didn’t eat. My family made fun of me for the rest of the year which was arguably justifiable, and moved on to become a full on vegan months later.
So here I am, three years post-grad, treading water in some kind of hilarious side quest in which conveying thousands of shrimp to their well-seasoned deaths, I am able to live.
We are all aware of the economic flailing that’s happening in the world of white collar jobs in America as AI becomes a (supposedly) unavoidable rip current that’s taking us all for a ride. Yes, I land one interview for every forty job applications. If you’re struggling too, you are not alone! Yes, 33% of all food service workers have a college degree in the U.S.
Enjoy this text thread of me combating the use of AI even in my current workplace. I will do battle!! Tomato tomato!!
I like to think the people who are advocating for the readily passionate adoption of AI are the same type of people who eat their low-country boiled shrimp unpeeled and wonder why it tastes dry. You aren’t supposed to eat the shell, Sharon. Should we tell her though? Comment below.
Anyway, for me, this has been the year of the shrimp. I have had many a side quest in my life. I have lived in Italy, gone to 4 universities, lived with over 30 different roommates, worked in such a variety of job titles in varying capacities, that I have gotten to the stage of finally decoupling my self-worth and identity from my job. Finally, I’ve set myself free from the mental chains attaching me to the ghost of career ladders past.
Jobs and work are different. I have a job to pay my bills, but my work, my life’s work, is to write and create art. I will continue doing so until the end of my days. Selling shrimpies? Probably not for much longer. (If you know anyone hiring for a full time writing job anywhere from Richmond, VA to Charleston, SC, hit me up dear god please).
I am mostly sharing this silly blog post as a way to make people feel less alone. If you feel “stuck” in a food service or retail job or otherwise undesired job to make ends meet, join the club. (This is in no way devaluing this work, it is necessary and valuable work, but not work you go into college-level debt to achieve). We are doing our best, and considering the boomers in the 70s had 8x the buying power for housing and education than we do now with a median wage job, it is not you. It is simply the state of affairs.
So, like a shoal of shrimp, we can take synchronized and coordinated movement in the direction of bettering our future by participating in our community’s political organizations, supporting public works, advocating for and educating each other. Lately, I have found the time to protest, donate to causes I care about, and join organizations who regularly meet with local governments. I want to go to a town hall meeting next and maybe try my hand at organizing a local letter-writing event or something. Maybe I will bring shrimp as an offering. Sometimes I think our country is being run into the ground by a bunch of technofeudal billionaires with shrimp-dicks, but at this point in my relationship with shrimp, I think it’s an insult to our beloved sea bugs.
While I am embracing my year of the shrimp over here, what is your year’s theme turning out to be? I’d love to read in the comments below.
With love and hope, thank you for reading.
-gabby
