Ten years ago (not 7, as it's stated somewhere on this site) I was given
an opportunity to try and make a difference in the world by writing a
"weekly" column with the promise of worldwide fame and fortune.
At first I was hesitant. I had an incredible, high-paying job and a few
good women ready to furnish my every need for little to no money and I
really didn't feel it would be in my best interest to leave that all
behind because of someone's whim.
After a few months of unrelenting pressure and nasty blackmail, I was
convinced to leave the job and the women behind and work for this here
Sadly, there hasn't been any of that fortune Rob (fake name due to
possible legal ramifications if I used his real name) promised (I have
earned a total of $11.67 in ten years) and no fame (when I stop people
on the street, they have no clue who I am). Topping that off, surviving
on a diet of peanut butter, crackers and Ramen noodles for the past
decade just hasn't sat well with me so I had no choice but to find a
So the last few weeks I have hit the pavement, trying to find a job so I
could leave this mess behind and chalk it up to a bad life decision.
This would rank up there with the time in '76 I drank some homemade
liquor brewed up by Rob and then found myself trying to commandeer one
of those Bicentennial ships because I needed to hunt down that white
whale. Those in charge didn't look too kindly on this and I lost my
wife, children and scholarship to a local community college because of
this small mistake of trust.
I've been getting up early and dressing up nicely and then following
traffic until I would end up at a place in Detroit where it seemed most
of the traffic ended up. I then assimilated myself into Corporate
America and followed the people around, just so I could get a feel on
how real America went about their daily business.
I noticed that people don't have issues walking up stairs. Hell, some of
them even took two stairs at a time! I was mighty impressed with this!
Then I wasn't so impressed when these same people couldn't walk up or
down an escalator. This saddened me.
Next I figured I could get the real pulse of working America by hanging
outside with smokers, since they're the cool crowd, as evidenced in
grade school. Again I came away saddened since most of these people
couldn't take the time to put their finished cigarettes into an ashtray
less than 20 feet away, instead just tossing the finished butt onto the
ground. One of my possible new co-workers went a step further by
throwing his unfinished lit cigarette onto the street below, which sadly
lit a passerby on fire. Amusing? Yes. But totally unnecessary.
I then figured riding up and down the elevators would be another way to
get into the heads of workers, but they were mostly high-strung pricks
who didn't want to have a conversation with a complete stranger. On top
of that, there were the assholes who tried getting onto the elevator as
you were getting off, causing me to accidentally kick one suit-wearing
motherfucker in the face.
After three weeks of this bullshit I decided I would give this writing
thins another 10 years.
Someone somewhere has to read what I write one day.
COMING NEXT: Back to grind I suppose