My Damn Opinion

True story, as wilder_hiryu is my witness:

So, here at the Wellbridge accounting office, we process paperwork and contracts for the various health clubs owned by the company. At the end of every month, the clubs start sending in the paperwork they should have been sending in over the course of the entire month, so we often get slammed on the last day with huge amounts of forms and contracts. Thusly:

My Boss: The Clayton club just sent me a 75 page fax!
Coworker 1: Holy cow....
Coworker 2: That's unbelievable.
My Boss: 75 pages! This is out of control!
Coworker1 : This is madness.
Dan, standing up from his desk and shaking his fist in rage: THIS! IS! WELLBRIDGE!

*hilarity ensues*

I had to go around to Coworker 1's desk afterwards and thank her for the fabulous setup. You don't often get a straight line like that, and it's important not to waste them. ^_^

So, I'm back in the school again, getting there early and getting it set up. It's not in the same location, but it's still a nice place with good benches and lots of space to work, and one wall all mirror. As I'm getting everything put together, students start showing up and getting ready, looking like a good size class. At one point, Mike and Phil and Ken all show up, and they're glad to see me, and glad that I'm teaching today so they can just work out. As usual, the whole place has the feel of waiting for Kenny to show up, but not really expecting him to. Maybe that feeling was always just in me....

Anyway, we have several new students in the class, and Phil & Mike are helping out, and one of them is a tall, athletic handsome-faced kid, looks like he's about 17-18, and he suddenly starts mouthing off to me. He figures he's a bad ass and he's not impressed with what I'm showing him. Mike and Phil back off like, "Hey it's your funeral, man", and I tell the kid if he's feeling so tough to go gear up and we can see who's bad ass.

I come out a bit later, and everyone else is seated around the floor waiting for the match, and the kid is geared up and looking confident. I come out with what little gear I usually wear, but I'm feeling less than confident. I know I'm out of shape, and this kid is strong enough that he might actually hurt me if I let him hit me. Mike starts us out, and I throw a simple test roundhouse, not even landing it, just coming close and making sure to catch him with the pad. And he suddenly stops, his face grows real pale and he takes off his gear and leaves. Mike shakes his head like "Whatever, kid", as he walks out the door and starts to help me take off my gear. But the whole time I'm watching this kid leave, I can't shake the feeling: was he scared and impressed with what little I did? Or was he disappointed and disgusted, and now doesn't want to waste time learning from me?

I couldn't tell as he was walking away.

So, I'm at my mother's house again, up on the 2nd floor where I lived for so long. There's a lot of people there. Mar'questor still lives up there, but jontheunlucky lives there too. angry_joe_buss is also living up there, although I'm not sure where. He's examining the wiring in the house, telling us that we either need to run new wiring or start running extension cords through the place to run all our computers and stuff like we did last time (although that was at Greenwood, not my mother's house.) jontheunlucky has suggested that we all go see a movie we'd been excited about, I think it was a new Firefly film which I would love to go see. annoyed_person and a few others are ready to go, but first I have to fix the roof on the garage, and I just leap from the back porch roof over to the garage, easy enough.

Now I'm trying to get ready to go, but wilder_hiryu is playing in Mark's room on his computer while he's not there. I know this is going to piss Mark off, it always did. I go into Mark's room to find him and drag him out, and he's not there but he's left the computer running, playing a Blade game of some kind. jontheunlucky has made some kind of taco dish which everyone says is good, but you need to crunch up the taco shells before eating it, and you need a bowl to eat from. So I snag one from Mark's room and get my share. It's smaller than I thought, but it's good.

Finally, everyone's waiting on me, but I have two things standing in my way: first, I need to wash the bowl I borrowed and sneak it back into Mark's room without him knowing. I figure I'll wash the silverware of mine at the same time. And secondly: Fuji is coming over. She wants to see me because she's been drawing comics about our relationship. And this time, she's way thin, way hawt, and is wearing a schoolgirl outfit. Even in my dreams, this makes me stumble in my tracks. And everyone is waiting outside for me to hurry the hell up and leave with them. But I can't leave until the bowl is cleaned and put back in Mark's room, and Mark is not standing in the hallway with his laundry, making it impossible to sneak back in his room. And then Fuj is at the front door, looking up the stairs to see if I'm coming. And from the look on her face, I can't tell if she's happy to see me or not.

And then I wake up. And I'm fricking freezing underneath my new (formerly) toasty warm blanket. WTF?

So, a few months ago I tried to sell some things on Ebay. I've always had pretty good luck getting rid of things this way, and helping other people get rid of things this way, and it's a good way to make some money on the side. However, after spending an afternoon creating several listings, I tried to post my auctions and was told that I could not, that my account was frozen. This was news to me, as I had been repeatedly logging in and out of my account, looking for prices and whatnot. I had even gotten some auction notices.

When I dug a little deeper, I found that my Paypal account had been frozen too. I'm fairly certain there was no money on it, I never leave more than a dollar or two, but I was not able to get a response from Paypal or Ebay as to why I had suddenly been blocked and cut off. To this day, I have never gotten a response. Frustrating, but whatever.

Then I read this. If this is accurate, and I will freely admit that I have not delved deeply into the announcements to extract every piece of data, Ebay is attempting to ruin themselves by financially screwing over everyone who keep their business running: their sellers. I encourage you to  read it yourself and come to your own conclusions. However, my conclusion is this: I am done with selling or buying on Ebay. I know that I have had those "psycho sellers" the author writes about, and I have had negative and even neutral feedback left for me unfairly. (That's right jackass, it's not MY fault the postal service wrecked your shipment. I am NOT postmaster general, and leaving me negative feedback doesn't afftect the USPS at all.)

Over the years, Ebay and Paypal have screwed me royally. Mostly Paypal, I admit. The single biggest sale I ever did on Ebay was to the tune of about $600, and the money was transferred from my Paypal account to my bank account at the time. At least, it was in theory. In reality, the money disappeared from my Paypal account and never showed in my bank account. To this day, I have gotten no response from them regarding that money. But when money donated to charity for Hurricane Katrina victims vanished from Paypal as well, I felt at least a little vindicated - they really were stealing from people. When Paypal finally bought Ebay, I knew nothing good could come of it. And now we see the results.

I will not be partaking in the strike that the author is mentioning, but not because I don't support them. It's because I am going on to Ebay and deleting my account right now. There are a plethora of other auction sites, as well as standard retailers and even local frigging stores that can provide you with the wonderful things you seek. Ebay, however, has decided that their reputation is such that they can act any way they please, and the sheep will keep coming back.

As with every other corporation that has tried this tactic, the real effect is only this: the beginning of their death spiral. Farewell.

UPDATE: Funny....the link on Ebay labeled "Close my account".....is a 404. Seriously....this is kind of childish.

UPDATE AGAIN: Okay, so after some digging and following dead links, I found the real Ebay cancel page. I walked through about five steps asking me if I wanted to cancel my account. Taking a bit of artistic license, the conversation went something like this:

D: Cancel my account.
E: We're sorry to see you leave. Are you sure you want to quit?
D: Yes.
E: Are you sure?
D: Yes.
E: Are you really sure?
D: Yes.
E: Are you really super-secret-sugar-swear-sure?
D: YES.
E: Well, you can't. Not yet. You have to wait 180 days before we will cancel your account.
D: ...Six. Months. Why do I have to wait six months to cancel an account?
E: Because you might have auctions still up. Or maybe some bids out on something.
D: Your auctions last a maximum of seven days. That does not explain the six months.
E: You might have a balance on your account.
D: I don't. I can't sell anything on your site, so I couldn't have a balance. You have computers that can tell you this. In fact, they don't need to tell you, you are the computer.
E: You still have to wait six months. Would you like to know why?
D: Yes, please.
E: Here's an email explaining that you have to wait six months.
D: I already knew that, it doesn't explain why.
E: ....
D: Hello?
E: ....
D: Hellooooo?
E: ....
D: ....
E: We're sorry to see you leave. Are you sure you want to quit?

More than ever, fuckass. More than ever.

I hate reading the internet.

There are some notable exceptions, of course. I enjoy reading LiveJournal, because I have chosen to listen to what you all have to say, and if you piss me off too bad I can simply drop you like a hot rock. But for the most part, wandering the internet randomly and reading the steaming mounds that people have grunted out either saddens or angers me. But sometimes, I take a chance.

And sometimes I win.

For some unfathomable reason, I was reading various blog posts on OkCupid. I came across one where the fellow was ranting and raving, making a point I myself have often considered valid. And in the comments below came the usual snarky semi-witty responses, being mean and rude because the internet grants us that power, the power to be completely anonymous and therefore not at all responsible for our own actions. However, hidden in those kernels of nastiness were some rather valid points, and some good responses to the argument presented in the post. And then came the response from the original poster.

"You're right, " he said, "I didn't even see it. How arrogant of me to assume I was right without considering the other point of view. I apologize for my ignorance."

Stunning, I know.

And the witty response?: "This is supposed to be the part where you defend your position with a series of increasingly absurd rationalizations, dammit. YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING. "

Ah, internet. I think I'll keep ya.

So swgarasuand I get on the train and start making our plan. We've got plenty of time before we get there, so we settle into the empty dining compartment and start looking things over. Just for appearances, Sarah starts looking over the menu. A good idea, we're pretending to be married, so we should look like we're just ordering food. The train starts moving, and the landscape outside the windows streaks into a blur. 

As Sarah continues looking at the menu, we discuss our options of approach and wait for the waiter to show up. All of a sudden, the train slows down, and the hatch on the side opens up, letting in a dozen more people. No worries, they're just passengers like us, boarding for thier destination further down the track. 

All of a sudden, they're surrounding us, shaking hands and pulling out...promotional literature? WTF? The guy in the tie sets up a display on the end of the table, and the girl starts shaking my hand and giving me flyers. They're salespeople! And we're the only non-sales people in this train. 

I get real pissed off at this point, and start moving to a distant table in the corner. Sarah follows me giggling, she seems to find all this real amusing. They continue giving thier presentation and trying to get us to listen, getting real wound up and giving thier pitch to the rest of the dining car. Sarah continues sitting next to me giggling a the absurdity of it all. What the hell?, I say, what about the plan? She turns to me and says something, but I can't hear it over the beeping noise. 

Beeping noise?

I wake up to the sound of the alarm clock blaring me awake. My body says it's nowhere near the 6 am the clock tells me it is. And my first thought is: "How the hell did the damn sales solicitors get into my fucking dreams?"

I roll back over and try to get another ten minutes, feeling like I haven't slept all night.

So last Thursday night, I thought I'd pulled a muscle in my stomach. It kinda hurt, especially as I was getting up, sort of like having been punched in the gut. I was annoyed, but I've pulled muscles before. Be nice to them, they get better.

Friday, I was pretty certain I had done something dumb to my stomach, although I wasn't sure what or how. I rested, took hot baths, and generally tried not to exert myself. For the most part, I ignored it.

Saturday I was beginning to wonder if this was a pulled muscle after all. Sitting upright was pretty uncomfortable, and getting out of the tub was a pain. None of it was major pain, just more of a heavy-duty ache. I began to think that perhaps it was something internal, maybe lactose-intolerance related. I hadn't eaten much in the way of dairy products, but sometimes those things will sneak up on me, building up until I feel like my guts are full of glue. I found that my last batch of Lactaid had expired, so I decided to pick some up. Right after the Video Game Room Staff Meeting. Eventually.

Sunday, I started wondering about this. It wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting better either. I began to wonder if there was something going on inside me -  a weird notion, considering how healthy I've always been. Having hernia surgery was a surreal experience, realizing that there really are things in me that are doing a job that I am unaware of but rely heavily upon. I went and saw my mother, and she told me about her experience with appendicitis. Basically, how it all started by feeling like someone had punched her in the gut....

Now I'm starting to take this shit a little more seriously. When I got home, I checked various internet sources on symptoms of appendicitis. Looking at the list, I've got one. I've had plenty of appetite (just ask the guys at the VGR meeting), I've had no fever or other difficulties...just a pain in my belly. Also, the symptoms mention that things reach a peak after about 24 hours of this, and I've had this going for 72 now. So I mellow out, go to bed, and decide to call the doctor in the morning.

Calling the doc's office the next morning, the nurse says she wants me in the office that afternoon. This is good - it's 9am, and she's willing to wait until at least 3pm to see me - means I probably won't explode before then. Heading in, the doc pokes & prods at me, and finally determines that I don't seem to have appendicitis, mostly because I don't have any of the other symptoms. He finally decides that it's Diverticulosis, where little seeds & nuts can block the small sacs of your intestines and cause infections. He gave me some antibiotics, and said to stick to them.

Calling my mother, I learn that her father had the same condition. He apparently had to have surgery for his, but the doctor feels that as long as I get some results from the antibiotics, I should be fine. And no more seeds or nuts. But this brings me to another new sensation - wanting to know about the various ailments that my direct family members have and have had, so I can be prepared for & aware of them. All part of the slow gradual process of realizing that you're not going to live forever, I suppose.

Gentlemen, here is our plan: we will create....a cell phone company!

*lightning & thunder*

Through this company, we will offer inexpensive cell phones & service to those with poor credit because of thier high medical bills. This offer will be very tempting to these poor souls....

Now envision this: The phone service costs $50 a month. A paltry sum. The service can only be paid at an automated kiosk, in our stores. Our poor victim comes in, prepared to pay for his service. He knows he has $20 in credit on his account. We will freely offer this information on the internet! He goes in with $30, prepared to pay his bill so the job applications he has put across the internet can yield fruit. When he puts the money into the machine, however, he is informed that the machine cannot accept payments of less than $50 even! No coins can be used, and even better - the machine will only accept $20 bills! 

MWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Note to self: make sure that store manager will have to physically open the machine to return the vict...er, customer's money to him. Oh, and make sure the same manager cannot accept a payment at his computer - that would foil our plans. We may end up hiring someone helpful, who would attempt to do everything he can to help our target.

*evil chuckle*

So...

Got a new cell phone. Couldn't get it set up - thier automatic cell-phone setup said to call customer service. Called customer service, they took me through the same dial-in setup process that had told me to call them. Actually held the phone up to the other phone so they could hear the computer voice say that. They put me on hold, and then booted me back to the automatic menu to start all over again. They did this twice. 

Took the phone to the Verizon store, 30 minutes before they close. The wonderful lady behind the tech support desk there called customer service, and customer service called thier tech support. We all spent an hour on hod with each other, and finally customer service said that the recording from thier tech support said they were now closed. The very nice lady asked me to come back the next day. 

I come back the next day. The manager looks up my account, cracks open the phone and says "Oh, the serial number on the phone has two digits reversed in the system. I'll just fix that. " Phone set up great. 

But by this time, the battery was dead. Gonna buy a new charger today. 

My new best friend fallenairmen came out Sunday and lent his mighty expertise to getting my starter back into my car. If not for him, I'd still be sweating & grunting by the side of the road, trying to get the wrong bolt off the car. Car started like a dream with the new starter in it, and I drove to work yesterday. 

Last night, on the way out to see annoyed_person, the car vented it's entire stash of power steering fluid across the engine, creating some impressive smoke effects. However, I filled it back up and made my way across town. This morning, all the fluid basically fell out of the engine, and the hole or damage or whatever is big enough that I went through 3 bottles of fluid (and some leak sealant) just getting to work. 

And Xcel energy wants $350 today or they cut off the power. 

Anybody wanna buy a kidney? ^_^

Anyone else have nightmares last night? I almost never have them, and certainly not at the "volume" I had them last night. Even more interesting, people have had each other in these dreams. Alex had a dream about me bad enough that he woke at 6:00 am and called me just to be sure I was okay. A few other people have had them as well, and I'm curious if anyone else was afflicted with them.


The question remains: anyone else have bad dreams last night? Couldn't sleep afterwards?

I had been hearing a strange rattling/scraping noise from the back of my car for some time. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, I couldn't really do anything about it, other than imagine how expensive it would be. It's never good to ignore these things, so I should have known.

I was in the drive thru near my house when it happened. I came to a stop behind the car in front of me and heard a bang. My car drove over a lump, and I thought I must have hit something in the drive thru. I couldn't tell what, it was just past dusk, so I just drove over whatever I had hit and kept moving forward, coming up behind the car ahead of me.

I hit my brakes. Nothing happened. I grabbed the e-brake just in time. Thank the Gods I wasn't on the highway.

I limped through the drive thru and slowly hobbled my way back home. This was Sunday evening, the day before my second week of work would begin. This was becoming a pattern. However, they were very cool about my calling in broken, and I took the day off to retreive my car from the shop. Only $250, which wasn't bad, considering that the calipers had literally exploded (that's what I drove over in the drive thru) which was something the mechanic had never seen before. I'm just cool like that.

Back when it was starting to get cold, my car began a new idosyncracy - it would get very hot while driving on the highway, and then cool off the moment I left the highway and got onto the off-ramp. I was informed by those in the know that this effect seemed to violate the laws of thermodynamics. I found this very amusing, and turned on the heater in my car so that I could at least get home from work without an overheating incident. The sub-zero temperatures helped with this, and I drove about mostly comfortably all winter. But now, things had taken a turn.

The overheating began gradually, following the same patterns as before. I could drive to work with no problems, as the sun had not heated the roads yet, but driving back was intolerable. I stooped to taking side streets home, but that quickly created new problems, not the least of which was tripling the time I took to get to work. I fixed a few things, like the belts that had never been properly tightened and thus were not really spinning the water pump in an optimal fashion. That seemed to slow down the overheating, but only really prolonged the wait between heat spikes. Ultimately, there's no solution to this yet - I'm still overheating every day when I come home from work, and I'm looking into carpooling. But that makes it hard to donate plasma, and those donations fund my car repairs...

Last but not least, I was driven off the road yesterday by an SUV driver who absolutely had to get into the turn lane I was in, whether or not I had the right of way or was even there. I swerved to avoid it, because my car is valuable to me, and I can't afford to pay for major body work. I was sure the Republican party member that drove that SUV wouldn't be paying for it either. I hit the curb, always a fun thing to do, and just sort of casually bounced off of it. I should have known.

I woke up this morning to a flat rear tire. Mostly an inconvenience, as I had had a flat not that long ago, and I took it to Discount and they hooked me up for free. Not so this time. This time, the tire was too worn to repair, and I needed a new one. Actually, I needed four new ones, because one cannot just buy one tire - one must buy four. I finally talked the counter monkey into selling me two for $120 (people stop hard-selling you when you tell them you have no money), but he warned me of the terrible curse that would befall those foolish souls who only bought two tires: my transmission would explode, ripping a hole in space-time and releasing a legion of tormented souls whose only urge was to bring pain and death to humanity. I drove away as he and his manager stood in the doorway of the store, wailing and gnashing thier teeth, predecting doom and damnation.

Okay, that may be an exaggeration. But it's not too far.

One things for sure: there's never a dull moment with this car. I may have a leak in my oil pan.

I've been internetless at my house for the last two weeks. During this time, I've learned some fascinating things.

The Motorola SB5120 Cable modem has a wide variety of stunning features. The most impressive is the little button on the top, known as a standby button. This button completely removes internet connectivity, but maintains the little blinking light that makes you think Comcast cut you off for non-payment. So while you suffer the indignity and crushing inconvenience that is life without the internet, you can rest comfortable and secure in the knowledge that you are a world-class jackass.

I should have know She had me in her hands the whole time.

I've done a lot of bitching and moaning in this thread. That was part of it really - this has been a great form of release for me, especially regarding the mess with Kenny. I don't know if anyone else ever knew the entire story. But all these bad things have come together in an amazing and even humbling way in the last few months, and that realization was the real catalyst for this whole post.

After leaving Kenny's school, I worked a couple of other jobs, and even spent six months desperately seeking any kind of work I could find. Finally, just as the timer was about to run out on my time at Greenwood, I found not only a new job, but a house and a car as well, thanks to some formers students from my TKD time who I was still occasionally in contact with. The job came from my cousin Alan, who got me on with the software firm he worked at. I impressed the hell out of the VP there in my interview - I can't normally recommend arrogant cockiness during an interview, but sometimes it works out well. I worked for them for almost exactly one year, but eventually business pressures and a changing climate forced them to let me go. They were super-nice about it, and even gave me three months time to find another job. Sadly, I wasn't able to find one before my time was up. I spent four months looking for work and living on unemployment.

During this time, I would regularly apply for jobs over the internet, because it was easy and I had to make a certain number of apps per week. I came across one job that sounded like a peach: Corporate Trainer for MoneyGram. I had actually been thinking that a teaching job would be the bee's knees, but I never imagined I'd be able to get one without a degree. However, I shot out my app just to keep up my quota, and spent the day fantasizing about getting paid to do what I love.

When they actually called me around Thanksgiving, I almost had a bird. I did a phone interview with the training manager, and she asked me to come in for a personal interview. I gladly went in, and got a tour of the company - whaddya know, they're a wire transfer company. That's work I'm familiar with. Sitting down to chat with her, she learned a lot about me. I pretty much geeked out on her, telling her about all kinds of stuff, some of it work-related, some of it not. She asked some very interesting questions - it had never occurred to me that in all my time, I've never really had a confrontation with a co-worker, even just a verbal or "unspoken" one. I've never been in a position to. I also met with her boss, someone much more severe and serious than she, and I felt a little more on-edge with her. I should mention that during all of this I never actually imagined that they were going to hire me. That would be just too fantastic. But it was nice to be getting an interview, and I hoped that other interviews would be forthcoming. They never were.

She thanked me for coming in, and told me that if I was chosen for the final interview tier - a short "practice" class - that they would call me and let me know. I was glad to have gone, but once again never expected that they were really going to call me. And true to form, that afternoon they called me, while I was sitting through Harry Potter. She asked me to come in the following Thursday, and teach a class on PowerPoint. She said I could use whatever materials I wanted, and that I only had to teach for 20 minutes. No problem, I said, I'll see you Thursday. That was Tuesday.

And I didn't know PowerPoint.

I rushed out that afternoon to Borders and bought PowerPoint for Dummies. For the next two days, I spent most of my time (when I wasn't playing Heroscape) learning how to use PowerPoint. Thank God I had Office 2003 already. I cracked out a basic outline, practiced a few times, and jumped into it.

When I finally got there, it all just happened. I was so nervous and tense, until I started doing it. I don't even remember most of it. I just felt my way along for those 20 minutes. I wouldn't have had such great time-management skills if it weren't for Kenny and his insistence that I spend precise amounts of time on each subject during my hour in his classes. It's hard to describe what it was like...actually it's not. It was like flying again after you've spent two years on the ground. I was in heaven. And then all too soon, it was over. The manager thanked me for coming, escorted me out (kind of quickly, I thought), and I was back in my car headed home. But not before I stopped back at Borders and returned the PowerPoint book.

I didn't hear from them for weeks and weeks. I had given up, and I felt that it was to be expected. Someone with a degree or years of actual corporate experience would have gotten that job, and I could expect nothing less than another job driving a truck or shoveling muck. When she called me again, just after Christmas and before New Years, I damn near had a hairy canary. (And then we would have all gotten to see what one looks like.) She told me that they had been interviewing more candidates, and that I was on a short list. The next day, she did call me, and I did, in fact, have that canary. She called me from her home, on her vacation, to offer me the job, and more money than I have ever been paid. And I did, in fact, have that canary.

When I went in my first day, my boss showed me around again, and then sat me down at my new desk. It would actually be a couple of weeks before I could join a new class, so they had a few other things planned for me. She gave me a big stack of magazine articles and seminar notes to go over, as well as showing me where all the teaching materials were. The magazine articles were intriguing, as were the notes - thoughts and concepts on teaching I had never considered, as well as some insightful articles on teaching adults in the modern workplace. Things I found utterly fascinating, but would probably not interest most of you all. As I sat here poring over these things, my boss came back around to ask me my opinion on certain things around the office, or my perception of how things were done versus my own way of doing things. This was boggling to me: she really wanted to know what I thought. That, and she wanted to make sure I got all this information, these concepts and ideas and techniques. She showed me where I could sign up for internal Corporate Training - useful things like Essential Conversations and Meeting Facilitation. It hit me like a bullet - she saw me as a professional. All at once, I understood this new and unusual sensation I was experiencing: she respected me. I was totally blown away.

I decided right then and there: if I won the Lotto, I'd still go in to work. I'd just be driving a better car.

But how did I get here? How did I end up with this fantastic job, with this fantastic company that I love? Everything has just fallen into place, and it seems to have been falling a long damn time, like some kind of cosmic Tetris game. I started out with a shitty job in Wire Transfers, answering the phone in the world's worst phone center, eventually becoming the local expert and honing my coaching and procedure writing skills. I learned quite a bit about the financial world and how it works. Then I moved into another shit-ass job, teaching people constantly, learning to manage my time, plan lessons, coach students, and facilitate classroom dynamics. I discovered a gift I have, and I found my passion in life, the thing that makes my life worth living. I went through mounds and mounds of shit, enduring miserable and even humiliating conditions, and in the end, it really was all worth it. Never once was I not where I should have been, even when I thought I was wandering aimlessly. She had a plan for me the whole time.

I feel like my life has started over. I feel like things are beginning anew, and I really can't wait to see what the future brings. Every day, I wake up excited to go to work. I don't even have anything to bitch about. Everything is good, nothing is bad. And I never would have seen myself getting here by taking the path I did. The hardest times of my life have given way to the best times of my life. Life gave me a lot of shit, for a lot of years. But in the end, it's become shit-ade, and it's magically delicious.

That then is the lesson: no matter how bad things may seem in life, something good will come of it. No matter the hardship, know that you can turn it around. Maybe not today, maybe not even tomorrow, but in time, all things progress towards The Light. You are here to strengthen your soul, and create the purpose you intended for yourself. Persist and march on, and have faith that everything that happens, for good or ill, is exactly what you need to grow and transform. The sunrise is just ahead, as long as you keep walking, and have faith. Your moment will come.

===================

"A single thread in the tapestry, though it's color brightly shines,
Can never see it's purpose in the pattern of the grand design."

- Through Heaven's Eyes, The Prince of Egypt

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Kenny partnered with another local master named Ghassan Timani, and together the two of them bought a third school down in Littleton. Each school adopted the name Korean Academy of Taekwondo, and we effectively joined together. Kenny and Ghassan split their time at the new school, each spending about half the week down there and half at thier "main" schools. Ghassan had a large collection of black belts to support his school in Aurora, and Kenny had me.

When Kenny started this venture, he didn't tell anyone, including me. He just said he'd be out, and not to expect him. After about a week, he confided in me, but told me not to tell any of the students what was happening. Even better, he told me to lie to them about it. His justification? The existing students would panic and leave if they knew what he had done. To myself, I thought 2 things: first, I don't think that's true at all. No one would panic and withdraw their kids. Secondly, if you thought that was true, why do it? But of course, Kenny was The Master, and I wasn't really allowed to voice such things. So I just accepted what he said and told his lies. Eventually, his thinly-veiled bullshit came apart, and he owned up to the parents when it was starting to become obvious. But who got to be the actual liar? That's right: me. I should have seen it coming.

Kenny's first flaw came to light here: he had a problem telling people the truth. I'm still not entirely sure why. I think it came down to power with him: as long as he held the knowledge, he had the power. I fought with this constantly during my time with him. He would issue some bizarre, cryptic demand, and I would just have to obey without knowing what the hell was going on. He insisted on some stupid shit too, and he would just as quickly forget he had done it, or why. I learned to ride these bizarre flights of fancy; often, students would come to me complaining about some new change he had made, and I would assure them that in two weeks time it would all be forgotten, and everything would go back to normal. That leads into his second dysfunction, somewhat attached to the third:

#2 - He had no clue what he was doing most of the time. I think this ties into #1 nicely, and helps explain it. He would learn some new teaching technique, or psychological trick to help learning, and completely and totally misuse it. I remember something we both learned from another Master, and standing there watching him confuse and belittle one of the kids, because he used it completely wrong and botched the whole thing up. I successfully used it myself later, even after he told me it obviously didn't work and I wasn't to use it. When I realized this about him, I should have run. But I had already been fed a line that I will relate to you later, and it was all that was keeping me going. Realizing that I knew more about teaching and how to teach than he did was a humbling and intimidating moment. It meant the burden of my future was square on my own shoulders from then on - I could expect no help from him.

Lastly, we come to the biggest and certainly most fatal flaw: he absolutely would not accept that he made mistakes. Which, of course, means that he never learned from them. As any martial artist would tell you, that's a fatal flaw. You're doomed to keep making the same mistakes over and over again, and never grow beyond yourself. It showed itself in little things: he redesigned the weekly schedule in an attempt to make it easier to read. Unfortunately, it made it more confusing, and parents were simply accepting that they had to conform to what they thought was a seriously cut-back schedule. When I realized what they were thinking, I thought it was hilarious - what a funny mistake! I called him up to let him know about their confusion, and he completely flipped out. Remember: I wasn't allowed to speak in anything but a respectful tone to him, so it's not like I called him making accusations. I was just informing him as I had been instructed. He began yelling at me over the phone, telling me it wasn't his damn fault that the schedule was unreadable, and not to blame him for it. That was one of those creepy weird moments, when you realize that the person you're talking to isn't working in everyone else's reality. I should have walked away then.

Ego is a major flaw in almost all martial arts instructors. I saw it backfire on Kenny again and again and again during my time with him. He would attract other black belts, major talents, and then alienate them with his attitude. He would "partner" with other masters, and then clash with them when they threatened his ego. He would learn that certain students or families were making very good money, and take them aside privately and insist that they pay more in tuition because of it. He lost countless students (and friends!) this way, people I would run into later that didn't even want to talk to me because of him. He would be demeaning and rude to people who were donating (donating!) time or resources to him or his causes, and then decide they'd insulted him when they reacted poorly to his attitude. He never saw that the only consistent factor in all his bad decisions was him - he couldn't! He lost so many opportunities, and ruined a perfectly good business because of this BS. I saw at all and vowed to never be like him. It was an excellent model in How Not To Be.

So why did I stay? Why did I put up with the burdens, the dysfunction, the contradictory expectations, and the unreasonable demands? Two reasons: first and foremost, I loved those kids. Every. Single. One. They kept me going through poverty, though adversity, and it relieved my stress every day to see them and help them grow. Even today, I would teach kids for free. But secondly, because I had been made a promise by Kenny, and it was one that was held in front of my nose like a carrot for nearly 4 years.

Right after I got my black belt, Kenny was nominated by his father and his old TKD master Bobby Kim to go to Korea and represent America in a gathering of Korean businesspeople worldwide. He was one of 3 Americans chosen - it was a great honor. He left me in charge of the school, with other black belts coming in to help out and keep the place running. This was the first time I was completely in charge of everything, and it was a little overwhelming, but I managed. In time, of course, I would manage it constantly. But this was all new to me then.

On this trip, Kenny had an epiphany. He liked meeting with those people and hobnobbing, making connections and getting to know folks. In short, he discovered a love for politics. When he came back from this two-week trip, he took me to lunch and told me his plan: he was going to join the Republican Party, and hoped to run for office within five years. When he did, he wanted me to take over the school. He was going to start prepping me to run the school by myself, and gradually step further and further out of the limelight, eventually to disappear entirely and leave everything to me. Talk about being handed your dreams: this was the big-time. Starting a school is an expensive nightmare, and building it up from nothing is a 100-hour-a-week job with no guarantee of success. Buying an established school is much easier, but still has pitfalls. But inheriting a school - that's like winning the lotto. Students are already there, everyone already knows you, and you've got a potentially profitable business clear and free. This was the lie that made me Kenny's slave for four damn years.

He worked me in every way he could. He treated me like a stupid servant, and I tolerated it because I thought in the end, it would be worth it. Several times, I told myself that I was being stupid and getting used, but I held on to hope. That, and I loved the kids. I mowed his fucking neighbor's lawns, I picked his kids up from school, I babysat for free whenever he wanted. I ran the school (eventually running it myself full-time), I cleaned and maintained the place and taught most of the classes. When he moved into a big new location, he had me working 10 hour days by myself to get it remodeled and ready to open. That new location, while nice, was his full-blown bull-goose mother of all mistakes - it made a profitable school into a barely struggling one, and when financial hard times hit, and many students had to stop coming to class, he had a monster liability on his hands. Which, of course, is how the whole damn thing came crashing down.

When he got into politics, he quit the Littleton school, but continued only coming in twice a week or so. He spent most of his time at the Republican office, where I later learned that he was not nearly as well-liked or respected as he thought he was. However, the extra money kept the school afloat (mostly), and it kept him out of my hair (mostly.) Within the strict framework he created for me, which basically meant doing all the dirty work while he deposited the checks, I ran the school. The school was really struggling, and Kenny had been having me teach at the local elementary schools for free - he kept all the fees, which he used to split with me. His justification was that the school needed the money, and I will grant that he was right about that. But really, it was the beginning of the end.

At a certain point, I just decided I had had enough of his shit. Every time I saw him, it just pissed me off so bad, and I actually started getting angry with my classes just because he would walk in the building. This, I knew, was wrong, and some of the parents commented on it as well. I would teach just what I needed to, and then leave to get the hell away from him. This was pretty rare, however, as he was only coming in once a week to lecture the kids on showing him more respect. Most of the kids didn't really know who he was.

Finally, at the end of August 2003, he sat me down and explained that he was selling the school to another master, and thus was letting me go. By this point, I was almost relieved. But this was not the end of his statement. He then proceeded to tell me how it was my fault that the school was failing financially, it was my fault that there were not enough paying students to cover the rent, much less anything else, and it was my fault that his business collapsed. Nothing to do with his running two schools on a budget for one, or moving into a vastly more expensive place than he could afford because he was angry that the old location charged him to fix a door, nothing to do with the fact that he had hardly been present in "his" school. I almost got out of my chair and punched him. But by now, I could see though this thin veil of lies to the pitiful, clueless, overblown basket-case before me. I knew I had outgrown him, because instead of being mad, I pitied him.

I was angry for a long time because of his actions. I felt betrayed, and rightly so. However, I was also more than a little relieved that he hadn't sold the school to me, because it was a financial black hole, and the new owner got thoroughly taken. The school lasted another year. During the black belt test for one of the kids I considered to be "my" kids (which I was unfortunately unable to attend), he announced in his usual unplanned way that the school was closing permanently, pulled up the mats, and had everything out by midnight. Some of the current, paying students who hadn't been at this test, called me to find out what happened to the school. I hadn't been in months, so I didn't know.

Reading back on this, I realize I've been a little unfair. Kenny did do a lot of things for me, and I didn't always appreciate them at the time. I was not the best "son" he could have had. He helped me get into an apartment near the school, and co-signed on the lease. He insisted that I get my driver's license, taught me to drive (by yelling at me and smacking me while I drove) and supplied me with a car until the day he let me go. It wasn't always a great car, but it was a car. He paid the very large fees to get me registered with the Kukkiwon society in Korea, so that my black belts would be recognized and honored around the world. These were investments of hundreds of dollars that he paid for me, and I still get the use of them. When I injured myself more than once in the line of duty, he paid for it out of his own pocket. When I had my heart broken by one of the girls in the school (what the hell is it about a black belt that makes a woman so damn sexy?), he gave me a day off and a pay raise. That was usually his answer to problems: money. And when money got tight, he'd just get mad at me. But now I'm back to being bitter again.

Thinking back on all the things that happened over those years, and all my cynicism about whether or not he was actually going to give me the school, I know that at a certain point I decided that he wasn't, and thus I wasn't going to bend over backward for him anymore. Quietly, late at night, I sometimes wonder if my own bad attitude created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps, despite all this bitching and all his flaws, there really never was anyone to blame for all this but me.

You know that's the truth.

Yeah, I do. But we Masters have a hard time admitting our mistakes sometimes.

He gave me the very best experiences I've ever had in my life. And the very, very worst. In the end, he gave me my dreams.

Thanks, Kenny. And sorry.

My dream was to teach martial arts. Dreams can come true. But be careful what you dream for, you may get it.

Kenny Yoo was once the greatest martial arts teacher I'd ever known. When I started at his school, one of the things that became painfully clear was that my previous training was woefully poor. There were a great many things I learned from Kenny, just as his student, and the chance to learn to teach under him was awesome. It was a huge honor, and I was determined to make it work no matter what.

Kenny had hired me because he was burned out. For many years, his brother Joe had run the business side of the school, taking care of new students, contracts, bills and other aspects of the office work. It was a good arrangement - Joe was a natural salesman, and Kenny was a great teacher. The school was enough of a success that Kenny was able to quit working for the bank and concentrate on it full time. It grew and grew, but then his brother got married, and found a good paying job in Las Vegas. When he moved away, the burden of this success fell square on Kenny, and it was more than he could deal with, day in and day out. Understandable, really. So he called me up and made his offer - I was to come in and teach the kids classes, and then I could stay for the adult class. He took the time to work on office things and straighten things out in there, and generally take a break.

When I first started, I was awful. I remember my first day teaching the kids - two of them mouthed off to me and ignored me in front of the class. I mentioned it to Kenny, mostly asking what I should do, and he marched right back out there, with me hanging on behind him like a little dog, and chewed those two out good. After some push-ups and an apology, I never had trouble from those two kids again. It was embarrassing at the time, but gradually, day by day, I learned more and began to even teach the entire class on my own. He would assign me more chores, like cleaning the school and taking out the trash, and even started expecting me to open up every day before he arrived. I chafed at this at first, until I realized what was happening - it was "chop wood, carry water", the same method masters have used to teach students for generations. Once I realized that, it was all quite clear to me, and I jumped into it.

I should mention: I was not yet a black belt at this point. I had been a blue belt when the whole thing started, but I was attending class every day, which no one else was doing, and I was experiencing a huge "growth spurt" - I was suddenly stronger than I had been in years, and I had a few awkward "teenage" moments. I clearly remember going to Goodfriends with JC, and when the host showed us to our table, I put one hand on the corner so I could slide down the bench. The entire table flipped up and dumped everything onto the ground, while JC and the host stood there with their mouths hanging open. All I could do was gather everything up and put it back, apologizing for being too damn strong.

I was also experiencing something new, something I had never had before: job satisfaction. I loved teaching the kids. More than anything else I had ever done. They could see it too, and I discovered an incredible bond with children I never knew I had. And with that bond, came something else I had not anticipated: the respect of their parents. Parents liked me, a lot. I got something like 7 invitations to Thanksgiving and a dozen Christmas cards that year. So many things were going well, and I was now looking towards my black belt.

That was an entertaining time. I was in class every day, all day, often coming early and staying late. I was in the best shape I had ever been in - one morning in the shower I discovered that the muscles in my legs were cut - an impressive sight, but not one anyone else ever saw. (I never did lose my beer belly, though - still pisses me off.) I was what Alex often refers to as "hardcore" - pretty much all I did was train. Kenny saw this as well, and started getting serious about giving me opportunities. I attended some seminars and got chances for extra training. He would even leave me in charge of classes occasionally, or have me take over other responsibilities.

There is one time that still sits in my mind, a great memory of how he used to be. There was a student at the school who was a troublemaker. He was a grownup, but one of these grownups who never could stop acting like he was 13. Kenny had spent a lot of time trying to help him and reshape him, but ultimately people will not change unless they want to. This guy had actually been asked to leave the school on more than one occasion, and had always come back begging forgiveness or claiming repentance of his old ways. It was never true, however. During one class I was teaching while Kenny was out, he hurt one of the other students, and claimed it was her fault - an absolute no-no in martial arts. You are always responsible for your kicks and punches. When Kenny heard later, he was furious, and actually went so far as to have his lawyer craft a letter to the guy, telling him he was no longer welcome. A few days later, Kenny and I were talking about it before class, as he was still pissed about the whole thing. I mentioned that I was disappointed, but that I really just felt sorry for him - he clearly didn't like himself very much, and was adept at making himself miserable. I told Kenny that I wasn't mad at him, despite his actions in my class, and I hoped one day that he would find some peace.

He got a strange look on his face, looked me right in the eye and said "One day, I think you'll be a great Master." That made my fucking year.

When time for my black belt came around, there was much anticipation, both by myself and the rest of the school. I had become quite popular around there, something I would have to start getting used to. I was exceedingly nervous, because there would be a variety of masters at my test, not just Kenny, and each of them was going to put me through my paces for their amusement. Looking back on this, I can appreciate it, having sat on the other side of that table. One of the Masters was JC Choi, who we had been developing a semi-relationship with. Master Choi taught a slightly different style of Taekwondo, but we actually learned a lot from him. I liked him quite a bit, and I was both grateful and incredibly nervous that he'd be at my test.

Each of the masters put me through a lot of paces, and then they each had me break a brick with a different technique. I did flying kicks, side kicks, and hand techniques. But Master Choi asked to go last, and with good reason: when I stood in front of him, he asked me: "Do you know what break I'm going to have you do?" I replied that I didn't. He put his hand on his head, and said "Make sure to strike the brick with this part right here, where the hair ends and the forehead begins." Kenny and the other masters blanched at this, because no one in our school had ever done it, but they said nothing - Master Choi was a guest. I was determined to go through with it, so Kenny gave the best advice he could: "Don't fall over afterward."

They put the bricks down in front of me, and I thought to myself, "What's the worst that could happen?" Naturally, I answered myself: "You could break your neck and be paralyzed for the rest of your life." I considered this for a moment, and considered everything I'd been through. I decided that even if that happened, it'd be worth it. I knelt down in front of the braces, and looked at that brick carefully.

And I just thought to myself: "There is no spoon."

When the brick broke, I understand a tremendous cheer went up from the crowd. I don't remember hearing it.

After all that, I got to fight. I fought and fought and fought, because black belt testing is always about challenging your weak points. I did a few forms early on, and then fought until I thought I'd die. Another guy who was a great fighter, did all his forms, and a few others, and fought twice. During my test, I ended up facing something like 7 huge guys, all guys who had trained with me, and who were looking forward to making me earn that belt. At one point, when I was pretty much at the end of my stamina, Master Choi asked me if I was getting tired. I replied that I was, and he said "Here's the deal: You fight one more round against these guys, and when you get tired, then I start counting 30 seconds." That sounded like a death sentence to me, but I was determined to triumph. I don't really remember much after that, except the guys were suddenly holding me up and on my feet instead of fighting me, and everyone was cheering. I was so sore my legs were shaking, and my whole body hurt for a week. It was great. It was genuinely the best time of my life.

And a week later it all fell apart.

This is where things get ugly. I'll keep it short.

I found some temp work at the Rocky Mountain News in thier phone center. I had worked phone centers before, but it had been so long I had forgotten how much I hated them. This was before the Post and News merged, so competition was pretty fierce between the two. Consequently, any time a customer was displeased with us, all they had to do was call up and scream at us and threaten to cancel thier subscription. It was our job to fall over ourselves apologizing and beg them not to cancel. Imagine getting a job, especially after not having a job for far too long, and looking up from your desk to find a bucket of shit hanging over your head. That's your job - to sit there and have shit poured over you all day.
My boss (a very nice lady whose name I have forgotten) explained why subs were so important - it actually costs most newspapers & magazines more to print each issue than they charge for it. All money is made on advertising, and all advertising rates are set based on circulation numbers. You ever cancel a subscription to a publication, but they continue sending it to you for free? Now you know why - it's not your money they give a shit about. My boss gave me this explanation as a prelude to making me a full time permanent staff member in thier center. I felt like I had a laser-sight fixed on my head, so I did what any sensible person would do - I ran.

I was a little worried about finding another position - I had taken the last one because there was nothing else - but I almost immediately got another job working for US Bank. I was keen to start, because I was used to banking work by now, and it was finally downtown instead of fricking Golden.
The job was simple - perhaps you've seen those Consumer Credit Counseling Services, non-profit organizations that "help you get out of debt." They're utter bulllshit, but that's a rant I'll get on another time. When those people collect thier payments from thier clients, they generate a check and a list of accounts to be paid. If several clients all have debts at one location, like US Bank, they send a thick wad of checks and account lists to the bank, to a special department where one harried data entry worker collects them and enters them into the system. Enter: me. The job started temp, but they quickly realized that I was a super-human, and hired me on permanent. It started out great.
I had a cubicle at the end of a row, with a window at my back. No one ever came down to the end of my row unless they needed me or the filing cabinet across from me. I had 90% privacy and a private window to boot. When I first started the job, the morning would be spent entering checks and data into a special program, and the afternoon would be spent watching said program do all the tedious work of interacting with and updating the bank's mainframe. During these blissful times, I spent every afternoon designing the most detailed and in-depth game of Cyberpunk I'd ever done. My boss didn't care, because when I started they were two months behind, and I had brought them up to date all by myself. As long as they never fell behind again, she was happy. Until she moved to another dept.
Her replacement was a dick. The kind of guy who's gotten ahead by playing the game, flaunting the rules, and generally squashing anyone who got in his way. He even checked his voicemail on his speaker phone - Asshole. He saw me spending my afternoons less than miserably, and decided to make an example of me - he tried to put me on the phones in the afternoon. That shit lasted about a week, and then we had an even bigger problem.
The program that we used to automatically update the system was a little outdated, so they hired an outside contracter to write a new one. He cranked it out and submitted it, and per his contract stuck around to troubleshoot and update it as neccesary. But that wasn't the fatal mistake. All you programmers out there, get ready to cringe: they implemented it without testing it at all. That's right: tens of thousands of US Bank customers were giving us thier money, and we were not crediting it to thier accounts as promised. The first day, the program completely failed to work. But they didn't have me re-enter the old checks, because new ones had already come in. Had to keep up, couldn't look like we're falling behind. It was madness. And there I was, right smack in the middle of it. Here comes the very best part of all:
The Big Boss of the entire dept had his office right next to mine. Outside my cube was his secretary, and she was all that stood between me and his office door. I had never been in there - I made every effort to never be seen by that man. He was a large, imposing ex-football player jock type. His method of management was simple: call people into his office and scream at them. I could hear him clearly through the closed door and past all the cubicle material between us - he was a maniac. And of course, because of the flow of materials on a downward slope, the managers he screamed at would go out and scream at thier people, and those people would scream at us. The fourth floor of the US Bank building downtown was Dysfunction Junction, boys and girls.
My boss's boss was a skinny little lesbian who tried desperately to intimidate me. Those who have met me in person know this is not so easy. When I finally determined the flow and where it was coming from, I just pitied her, because I knew what she was going through. She would call me in to "talk" about missing payments or malfunctioning equipment, and I would just stand there and let her yell, and then present a solution to the problem in a calm and rational fashion. I think she appreciated that, because she could get the stress off her chest and I was completely unintimidated by her and I got the job done. I almost pitied her. Almost.
Knowing this, you can imagine the unbelievable crapstorm that hit when this new program got uploaded and started hosing up. My peaceful cube dwelling days were over, and I had managers of every level in my little cube every damn day. I started ignoring my phone. I showed up late and left early, hoping someone would fire me. I regret trying to drag poor Alex into that job - he smelled the scent of death, and never came back. Wise, my friend.
One day, I was walking down the 16th Street Mall (I still love Downtown Denver), and I saw the bums laying in the street, or begging for change, and I thought "I'd rather be out here with them than back at work." And my eyes flew open. I went back in and gave my two week's notice. I had no idea where I'd work or how I'd pay my rent. All I knew was that I was never coming back again. They noticed the change in me immediately - I wasn't stressed. I had no fear of anyone, even Psycho Uber-Boss. I could care less what happened to anyone else, although I personally tried to help as many customers as I could.

On my last day, everyone in my area just had to take me out to the bar that night - the second bar I'd ever been to, and the second time I'd ever been drunk. Everyone wanted to buy me a drink for having the guts to tell the management where they could put thier shitty job - I had 16 Zimas. I then went home and played Gauntlet Legends from start to finish - not an easy task, but do-able when you just never go to sleep. JC, my roommate at the time, was working nights. I was playing when he left for work that night, and I was still playing when he got home. When I asked why he was home so early, he commented that it was 6am, and pointed to the sunlight outside. I was amazed. Then I beat Gauntlet and started on Final Fantasy VI.

My mother told me that next day that the internet company she worked for was looking for someone to sell advertising on thier site, or even commission artists and sellers to sell through us. I took the job because it meant staying at home and working my own hours. Unfortunately, the owner of the company was really into trying to make money, but not into doing any of the work involved. However, it was a wonderful taste of freedom, and opened me up to one more job opportunity.

Kenny Yoo, who you may recall from my time in Wires, had long since left the bank before I did to focus on his school full time. I had been attending class on and off, mostly off, because I had little money to give him. But martial arts instructors always seem willing to give me free classes, so I tried to make it once a week or so. One day, Kenny called me up. He reminded me that I had once expressed an interest in teaching Taekwondo, and he wanted to know if I was still interested. As it had always been a dream of mine, I told him I was absolutely interested, and he hired me to come and teach for him full time, in exchange for classes and $100 a month. Now this, I thought, was a dream come true. It was, until things took a turn.

And thereby hangs a tale.

When working in Wires, I had some fascinating experiences with some fascinating people. The first I mentioned previously: Tim. When I first came into Wire Transfers, I met Tim by sitting next to him and watching him process incoming phone calls. I thought for certain he was the most boring person I'd ever met. He was extremely conservative, wore a suit and tie to work every day (in a phone center, in the basement) and was just finishing up his college degree. Tim was my first object lesson in not judging a book by it's cover.
Tim worked in the phone center with us, but he had a plan. He wanted in on the banking industry on a very high level, and he was determined to play whatever game he had to in whatever fashion to achieve this goal. He was super-ambitious, very methodical and quite brilliant. He was also a big dork just like me, although he had the sense to hide it at work. He would occasionally try to talk some sense into me, like trying to teach me how to get a grip on my finances - something that would take many years more, and a significant change in my own personality. Other times, he would agree to loan me lunch money to go to Wendys, on the condition that I should try and get something for free from them. He also told me that if I was really starving, I should just go to the Taco Bell on the mall and wait for them to call someone's order for the third time (which meant they were on the verge of throwing it out, because no one was coming.) Just walk up and say "Oops, I didn't hear you," and get some free food, he'd say. I had far too many scruples to do that, and he of course had never done it either. Or never admitted it.
One day, while walking past my desk where I regularly fiddled with Magic decks between calls, he asked me what those cards I was always playing with were. I explained the game and gave him a rulebook, and he went out on his lunch and bought his first starter. This was the beginning of a beautiful and unexpected friendship. We would play every morning, in the atrium of the bank right by the coffee stand. A quick game during our break, and then I'd meet someone else for a few games during lunch in the Tabor Center. It was a great time, so naturally it had to come to an end.
Carol, the manager of Wires, eventually mentioned that she was tired of seeing "the cards" around the office, and told Tim and I that they should disappear. We obliged, to a degree - we just stopped being so obvious. Hiding our decks in our desk drawers or pockets, we would sneak out to more hidden places in the building for our daily games. We could take a back elevator to another smaller lobby, rarely used except by people whose offices were near to those entry doors. There was even a small table and two chairs where we could play in comfort. We would leave the office seperately, and meet up, crack out a game or two, and sneak back seperately. I didn't want to do anything to ruins Tim's career (he would do that himself later) but you current and recovering Magic junkies know what I'm talking about - you just have to play!
One day, after a particularly good game, we decided to take the elevator back together. Simple enough, no one else was ever on it, and we'd just come back. We were feeling good, and enjoying our little guilty secret. At least until the elevator door opened. Crammed into that tiny, back access elevator was not only Carol, our boss, but Marv, her boss, and the small cabal of banking execs that Marv himself reported to. In short, everyone needed to completely ruin our morning and possibly many future mornings to come. We carefully slipped our decks into our pockets, and shuffled quietly into the conveyance, hoping against hope that she didn't know or guess what we had been off doing that morning.
Tim sold me his cards not long after that.

Eventually, as has been previously recorded, Tim became my boss. He was an excellent boss to work for, especially as we had that previous camaraderie that rarely proceeds a relationship of this type. When he moved to the head of Incoming Wires, he made sure to include me in his little empire, and we had some fun. He once commented that he saw himself as Emperor Palpatine, and me as Darth Vader (or perhaps Anakin - this was before the new movies.) I countered that I saw myself more as Boba Fett, because while he might be a True Believer in the Cause, I was just here for the money. A truer statement was never made.
Tim was absolutely suited for management. He even looked the part, and he had certainly been planning for the job. He was also almost (but not quite) completely incompetent at anything but managing. He would regularly come to me and ask me to make him photocopies, or write something up, or do similar favors to the point that I jokingly told him he'd better get me something nice for Secretaries' Day. Lo and behold, he did, getting me a very nice pen set.
Eventually, his downfall was trusting the wrong person. When one of the work directors under him decided to use the company credit card to buy something personal (with the intention of paying it back), the work director got the ax and Tim was moved out of his management position into a analyst one. When I asked him if this was a demotion, he grudgingly said it was a move "sideways." I always felt bad about that. Another lesson in how not to play the game.

Tim was not my last cool boss. In time, the International Dept that had been integrated in the main Wires area was segregated right back out again, and I moved with them. This was okay, as I could now focus on the small number of Intl wires, and do Domestic if I felt like it. However, the guy they chose to head the Intl Dept was a massive lush, and after not showing up to work for a week or so, left the company citing "differences of direction" with the shop manager. This guy had been a relatively cool boss, as he was never around, but he was also not such a great boss, because he was never around. We were a little worried when we finally got our new boss, who had moved up from being a manager in our Loans Dept elsewhere. International was a difficult enough job, wihtout having to explain and re-explain everything we did. However, Bob turned out to be the best thing we could have gotten, and perhaps the coolest boss ever (with my current boss running a close second - we'll see how she works out.) When he passed out a notice giving the time and date of our first dept meeting together, he attached a Dilbert cartoon - and I knew we'd be alright.

Bob knew nothing about Intl Wires, and never tried to pretend that he did. But he was a great example of the truism that a good manager can manage anyone, and he was very good. He did his best to learn our jobs, at least as much as he needed to support us, and then left us alone. He was always there when we needed him, and never let us down once. Plus, he was laid back and relaxed with regards to the normally tense, rules-strict environment we worked in. He laughed when I dressed as Dilbert for Halloween, and submitted me for a Best Costume Award. He saw that I had taken my own time to learn Excel and Word, and sent me to a class so I could have a piece of paper that said I knew what I already did. That piece of paper served me well - it's still on my resume, and I'll never know how many jobs it's landed me.
The best Bob story was this one: we had a Morale team at Norwest, whose job it was to make us do "fun" things so we could forget that we were overworked and underpaid and then the bank didn't have to pay us more money. One year, we came in to find plastic Easter Eggs on our desks, and a memo stating that each Dept had to decorate thier eggs (one for each employee in the Dept) and then decorate a basket to hold the eggs. The baskets would then be judged by our contemporaries next door, and prizes would be awarded. Everyone else in my group decided that they'd rather be boiled alive themselves than participate in this, so they were all very happy when I came up with an idea myself, and presented it to Bob. I figured he'd say no, but it was worth asking, and no one else wanted to do anything.
I wanted to get all our multicolored eggs and paint them red. Then, by attaching pipe cleaners and minature googly-eyes, make each egg into a tiny devil, complete with pitchfork. I thought I'd fill the basket with cut up pieces of red and orange construction paper, and perhaps fashion some flames, making the whole thing look like a lake of fire. I ran this by Bob, expecting the answer no, when he said this: "Only if you add a little sign that says 'Work is Hell'." Right then, Bob became the coolest boss ever. He even had the bank reimburse me for the cost of supplies and paint. We didn't win, but we didn't expect to. But absolutely everyone loved our display, and the shocked looks of the bankers across the street more than made up for our lack of awards.

Over the years, I had noticed that my popularity and general energy at the bank ebbed and flowed. I even started to notice when I was becoming unpopular again, and when I was on a high streak. One day, I saw another high streak coming, and that little voice in my head said "Time to go. Best to do it now, while things are good." I didn't know what was meant by that, but I went ahead and gave my two weeks notice (not the first time I gave notice at a job based on that voice), and rode my last two weeks of popularity right out the door. I knew somehow that I would be leaving the bank one way or another, so I wanted to make it good. For the record: when your boss carries your box out to the car for you, asking if you're sure you still have to leave, you've left on a good note. When I got home that evening, my grandfather in Louisiana had died, and I spent two weeks down there with family helping out. It was a good thing I didn't have to try and find vacation time for that, as it would have been difficult. However, when I came home, I had an even more difficult time ahead of me - trying to find a new job.

Straight up stole from mentalswitch , my new muse.

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.

What fun.

So, last night, Jin calls me and asks if I'm willing to go stand in line with him at the butt crack of dawn to get an Xbox 360. Because I'm a dumbass, or crazy, or both, I agreed. He was actually hoping to get several of them as presents for his family. However, every retail outlet was giving one system per customer, and you had to be there in person to get it. So that meant, for the truly crazy, putting up your tent outside Best Buy this weekend and calling in stupid to work. For Jin and I, it meant picking him up at 4am and driving around Boulder/Louisville trying to find a place with a spot in line.

I've never bought a system on the first day, because there's never anything to play. I remember the Dreamcast launch drought, when all there was to play was Soul Calibur and House of the Dead, and once you beat them, you had a $300 dustcatcher for the next six months. Several people I know just gave up on the 'cast, which was a pity. I have always waited until there was at least one or two games I wanted to play before buying any system. But I've never jumped on the new system bandwagon, so I suppose I tortured myself this morning just to say I've had the experience.

I drove to Boulder Monday night around 7pm, grabbed Jin and headed to Sam's Club, where Jin got us business memberships, because business members could come in at 7am to start shopping, where everyone else had to wait until 10am. I then went and hung out at his place for a bit, playing Soul Calibur 3 on Jin's ungodly huge TV. It's funny - Jin has a couch, his game systems, and a TV you could hollow out and live inside of, and nothing else. The man didn't even have trash cans - just puts his trash in bags and drags it outside. Somebody, marry this boy, please.

But I digress.

Got home at 11:30, got back up at 4am, and drove back to fucking Boulder. I loathe Boulder. But Jin gives good directions, so I made it. Our first stop was Sam's, where the unwashed masses were already huddling outside, some sleeping in bags and tents, others wrapped in numerous blankets like giant burritos of gamerflesh. As we arrived, they began stirring and forming a rudimentary line, which immediately prompted arguing.

Now, I should point out, I was completely prepared for some stupidity. I know how parents get around the holidays, and the 360 is shaping up to be this year's hot gift. So when the people who had slept in the cold hard parking lot objected to the dumpy housewife who pushed past them in line, I knew we were in for a fun ride. Her justification? They didn't live in Louisville, and she did. She knew they didn't live there, because she lived there and she'd never seen them. It was amusing to watch her try and bully her way past 15 angry nerds, who had just woken up from 2-3 hours fitful sleep in a lawn chair. Eventually, she managed to argue her way around to the middle of the line, as opposed to the front, so that polite late-comers, like Jin and myself, were still behind her. Her chubby indignance rebuffed, she began waiting with the rest of us.

Jin and I were a little nervous. Actually, I could have cared less, but I was nervous for Jin, because I was there to help him out. There were supposedly only 21 units at this store, and everyone in line passed the time counting people, and making sure they were closer than #22. Who was number 22? You guessed it: me. I was cool with it though. Either way, I wasn't going home with a 360, so keeping the car warm while Jin went inside sounded good.

At about 5am, we saw the employees scurrying about inside. I actually pitied them, and I hope they all got major overtime. But considering where we were, probably not. They seemed almost like mice running about inside their little hole, occasionally sneaking glimpses of the cats outside, cats who are pacing back and forth, pawing at the glass and licking their chops. The employees created a clever maze of carts in the doorway, forcing us to walk only in certain designated areas of the store. I assumed that stepping out of this maze meant that the machine gun nest would open up on you. They checked and double checked membership cards, and warned that the first 21 people in the store would get systems, no more. If they could have carried guns, I bet they would have. I would have. Despite all this, everyone who stood outside in line, even the nice patient lady who got behind me 10 minutes before they let us in, ended up getting a system. With two down and the morning ahead of us, we zipped over to Costco down the road.

Upon arriving there, we saw an even greater crowd of people and a literal tent city, fortified by tarps and SUVs and flashlights hooked to car batteries. I'm willing to bet they had already started their own barter-economy by this point. Fortunately, we found that there was space for two more, right at the end. But there was a problem: Costco did not open until 10am, and no one could leave the line and come back. At this point it was 6am. The prospect of sitting in line outside the store on the cold hard concrete watching the sun rise did not appeal to me in the slightest. But Jin talked me into it, and we managed to secure the last two vouchers from the employee who was wrangling us.

This guy: he should have gotten some bonus money. I don't know what it is about Costco that attracts brain-dead morons. I like the prices and selection, but every time I go there, it seems the laws of civilization are suspended, and it's every-person-for-themselves. I've s