Listen up, guys. Here’s how it all went down.
My former employer requested that I return all equipment assigned to me to perform my job remotely, i.e. laptop and cellphone (the Fascists). Since I do not enjoy being sans communication, I bought myself a brand new phone which came with a brand new number.
Soon I started getting texts from a random person looking to contact “Cindy” who I can only assume had the number before me. Not wanting to be rude, I made a couple of cheesy jokes about the fact that I was not the person they were looking for. Naturally, I deleted those texts thinking this person would get the hint and not contact me again. Then this happened:
At this point I was not sure how crazy or sane this person might be, and thought that if I instigated them further, they could be dangerous. As I saw it, I had two choices to make. I could either:
A) Ignore this person entirely or:
B) Engage them for my own amusement
Guess which option I chose?
Before you ask, no- I did not get married. But any female will tell you that even the most aggressive of men will back off once he has been told another man has claimed you for his own.
Or so I thought:
People, this was just too much awesome for me to resist. Yes, this could have been a crazed stalker/killer/WoWfan, but how could I possibly resist the temptation of indulging in hilarious mindfuckery? I mean, come on! I’m only human!
Since I have had vast experience in dealing with blog trolls and the mentally unhinged, I decided to respond in a way that I have found effective in the past: Enter SciFi:
WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?? How could this Nerf Herder deny my obvious attempt to rebuff his advances? Even a Trekkie would have picked up what I was putting down! Screw interstellar space-talk. It was time to go old school and get all Hellis on his ass:
Predictably, our Man of the Hour decided to call it a night. As for Cindy, I hope she is somewhere happy and safe with her new phone. As for me, well…I pray Cindy hands out a lot more bitch digits because next time, I’m gonna reply as “Lokepa.”
I hate myself right now.
Not a desperate, self-loathing kind of hate- it’s more of an “ironic trombone” kind.
You see, I decided to trade my uber time-suck of a management job for something part-time in order to free myself up to write and blog and spout my personal irreverent form of rhetoric. This idea sounded good at the time, until I realized that it had been nearly fifteen years since my last job hunt and that I had technically already quit my job (my former boss said so. I asked him).
Now what I am left with is plenty of time not to write, but to search for my awesome new job that will not be an uber time-suck in disguise. So after a whole lot of hits and misses and a sketchy offer of a career in foot porn (my feet are adorable) this happened:
I discovered the Start-up Industry.
People, I love me some start-ups. I love everything about them. Anytime an individual applies passion, sacrifice and labor to their dream…baby, sign me up. I love the whole culture that surrounds start-ups; the energy, the enthusiasm, all that potential the creator just knows is there and the courage he or she musters simply to say, “I believe in myself and my ideas enough to try. I am worthy of the chance you take on me.” It’s the American dream at it’s finest. So why do I hate myself?
Because they aren’t my start-ups. They aren’t my dreams. Because I lack the courage to try.
I realized I made excuses for why I didn’t finish my second novel or didn’t make time to blog like I wanted or market my work as is always necessary. Yes, I had a demanding job and family, but more to the point, I lacked the courage to invest in myself. Instead I invested my time, passion, and energy elsewhere. The hardest part to admit is that I am no better off because of it. The proof of that thought is in my resume. Composing it felt like writing my own obituary; highlighting the accomplishments of a life gone by, extolling the virtues of someone who no longer existed. By the time I was finished I was wrecked.
But as is typical of me, I became sick of the sound of whining in my head and decided to adopt an entrepreneurial (thank you, spell check) spirit of my own. I decided not to look at my resume as an obituary, but as a high school graduation speech instead; a summary of what I’ve accomplished as well as what I am capable of accomplishing in the future, should someone decide to take a chance on me. I decided to invest my time equally in the job market as well as the publishing world. I realize the two won’t always be in balance, and I will have to sacrifice a bit here and there to make it all work, but I think it is finally time for me to take a chance on myself.
And if it doesn’t work out, I still have my feet.