I’m not supposed to be stressing during summertime. That’s a rule. But now I’ve got something on my mind. I’m not happy about it.

I decided I needed a little walking-around cash, so I immediately sought out the most part-time, low-responsibility, easy-to-get bullshit summer job available. Perfect fit: delivery driver for my local auto parts shop. My dad’s girlfriend is the manager – all I have to do is fill out an application and I’m working the same day, driving around town listening to music and getting paid. Easy as could be.

One other thing. You’ve got to pass a drug test.


And now you see what I’m worrying about. It pisses me off that I’m worrying, because I shouldn’t have to – I don’t even use drugs. Just hand-rolled cigarettes, that’s all those are, sir. One-hundred percent natural. Healthier than the ones they sell at the store and better for headaches than Tylenol.

But now this habit of mine, coupled with my potential employer’s bizarre desire to inspect my urine, has put me in kind of a tight spot. Because on these tests, in their eyes, there is only pass or fail. If you fail, it doesn’t matter if it was for smoking hand-rolled cigarettes or smoking something out of a light bulb. A failure is a failure. No job for you, no cash, and oh yeah, I’ll have to tell your dad.

The thing that makes it even funnier is it’s hardly even a test. I’d say crapshoot is a little more appropriate. There are plenty of products out there that will test you clean, but sometimes they just don’t work. I’ve seen someone smoke like a chimney all morning, guzzle some of that awful shit and then pass a drug test that afternoon. I’ve also had a friend who spent two smoke-free weeks exercising and douching his system with water, then guzzled the nasty shit and failed.

Crapshoot – now it’s my turn to throw.

This thing came completely out of nowhere to me. The last job I got was in journalism, and the “drug test” went something like this:



“You passed.”

That was for a job that actually required me using my brain. This auto parts job is work that is already done by machines on most planets. They hand me a box and give me a destination. I drive the parts to the destination. I return to the store. Repeat.

But they somehow believe that smoking will impair my ability to perform this brainless function. First of all, just because I’ve smoked in the last three months doesn’t mean I’ll be constantly driving around trailing clouds of smoke, stopping at burrito places and taking Xbox breaks at friends’ houses on company time. I know how to be a good employee.

Even if I did come in feeling a little Irie one day, it doesn’t mean I’ll be crashing into anything. I’ve got a clean driving record. If they want to set up some cones behind the store, the manager can sit in the passenger seat and watch me navigate the course while rolling one.

I’m not even going to get into all the studies out there that have shown that herb doesn’t impair driving ability, because studies and statistics always come from one side of an issue.

Like the latest anti-drug “it’s more dangerous than we all thought” commercial. Two crash test dummies share a J, then as they plow into the wall it says, “One-third of all reckless drivers who were tested for drugs tested positive for marijuana.” Wow. That sounds like a really confusing way of saying most reckless drivers weren’t smoking marijuana. Chances are it was something they don’t test for causing those people to drive recklessly, like alcohol, a girlfriend or a combination of the two. But I do think that ad made a powerful statement to all those idiots out there who have been lending their cars to crash dummies.

So because of all this bullshit and some silly test that might lump me in with real drug users, I get to spend the week worrying, then pay 50 bucks to swill some awful-tasting substance that provides me with 1,746 percent of my daily allowance of riboflavin. Can that be good for you?

Daily Nexus campus editor Travis Hunter would take enough riboflavin to kill a small dinosaur if it keeps him happy and high.