TSawyer84
11-08-2009, 07:26 PM
Hello,
On 9/11/2009 I was fired from my job as a marketing rep. Since then I have kept a blog that details my life's journey since this happened. I have always been a writer my whole life and usually write about 1500 words per day.
Here is one of the first posts that I wrote, and it is one of my personal favorites.
September 18: One Week After Being Fired
One week ago I was fired from my job. It was a lot like an execution, except I'm still alive. I even wore a tie because I knew it was coming and wanted to leave with dignity. I worked for an organization that touted a Christian message, and what I have learned is that often times, the message is a mask. I worked for a person who lied to me, humiliated me, took credit for my work, and made a strong effort to trick me in any way that she could before finally firing me without a concrete, legitimate cause. For over 3 months, she danced around the psychological prison she put me in. Imagine knowing it's a bad economy but also knowing that your own supervisor was working extra hard behind your back to get your fired. The experience opened my eyes to see the monsters that exist in everyday life.
I don't like the analogy of comparing life to a "ride." When you talk about life like that, you are implying that someone else is taking you somewhere. The reality is that you are on your own. Life is more like being lost alone in a city maze late at night. One wrong turn and the air gets quieter and the lights get dimmer.
Today I was scammed out of $300 by some stranger at a gas station. A guy offered me a living room stereo and an elaborate story about how this stereo goes for $1,700 on ebay. It seemed so easy, and like the saying goes, "if it's too good to be true..." you know the rest. When I got home, I googled the product name and see “scam” next to it, fifth search down. The second I gave this con artist the money was the second I knew I just made a mistake. And much like getting fired from work, it was a battle against my own inner weakness – my desire to believe that everything happens for a reason. When I met this guy at the gas station, I wanted to believe that my luck had turned for the better. I wanted to believe that, yes, this was my lucky day. I wanted to believe that somehow I was going to magically have $1,700 in my bank account, and not have to worry about money just a little while longer. But I didn't believe it. Deep down my gut instinct was pulling me in the other direction. My desire to believe was stronger, and broke the leash. I told myself never to become a gambler. I guess we've all tried it at least once.
This all happened before noon this morning. I pulled up to a gas pump at a station inches from my apartment complex. I was on my way to Kinko’s to FedEx "The Folder of Truth," as my girlfriend calls it, to human resources. It was my last ditch attempt to tell someone about what really happened, with evidence.
My teachers in school always used to love me, and told me that I was going to be president of the United States one day. Right now, I have lost the second office job that I had after college, in the worst of economic times. My life has turned upside down, as I stay up all night doing whatever I want.
One night last week, I stopped by a college hookah bar and didn’t even make it in the door. I got caught up talking to some activist girl and her friend, who were promoting awareness for some cause – I can’t remember if it was for abused women or encouraging you to adopt a dog from the shelter. Regardless, I was in support of them, and was amazed at how one could feel so passionate about something that doesn’t even register in the mind of most people.
Then I did the same thing at a different college hangout across the street. I loitered outside the front while trying to decide if I wanted to pay $5 to get in. There was plenty of activity going on outside, so I figured there was no point. Plus, I’m a drifter. I go wherever.
I got caught off guard listening to a group of guys tell stories. This guy points to his fat friend, and starts talking about a time when this guy wore a “**** me I’m fat” shirt and attracted some girl who he claims he had sex with. He says, “I ****ed her three nights later and never talked to her again. She’s like, ‘why didn’t you call me?’ I was like, ‘whatever’.” And this guy was majorly fat.
From there I thought I’d pass through my old neighborhood. I hooked a right down the main boulevard of my old stomping grounds. I lived there until I was 18. It was an old neighborhood, and very poorly lit at night. It was actually a bit creepy – big trees casting shadows around whatever light was there. I saw the street light that was still right outside of my house. It gave a dim amber glow against the darkness that surrounded it. The houses were all low and wide, all one story. They all had big windows in the front. I remember my house had a car port, no garage. It was a nice house, but when I drove back by I realized just how tiny it was.
Then I cruised down to Park Avenue past deserted shops and people leaving the wine bar. It was around 1:30 am. I spotted two guys playing acoustic guitar on a public bench looking like a couple of poor bastards catching quarters. I parked my car a block away and walked back towards those guys with my own acoustic guitar in hand. I tossed it in the backseat of my car before leaving earlier that night at 11:30.
I walked by a couple, late 20’s/early 30’s seated outside, obviously on a date. The guy was wearing a crisp button-up shirt, his chest looking pretty metrosexual with the shave job. The girl was wearing heels and skirt and looking straight primped in the face. It was the type of thing that made me think of how superficial dating is. I suppose it’s blatantly obvious since I stopped going to bars on the weekends.
I walked up to those guys with guitars and asked them if they wanted to jam. These guys were like, “yeah sure.” One of the guys was very friendly but the other guy was a bit aloof and complex-looking. I am very leery of people who are strangely aloof and give off a complex vibe.
The friendly guy was pretty good at guitar and sang pretty well too. He could sing and play good songs. The friendly guy talked a lot, and told me they were from a town 4 hours away. I asked them what they were doing over here, and he said, “I don’t know yet. We just got here.” Both of these guys were like 19. After we played a few tunes together, I parted ways with them.
I tossed my guitar back in the car and headed to Del-Taco, a good choice at 3 in the morning. After chowing down on two flatbread tacos I came home and fell into a peaceful sleep. It was the weekend. I had just been fired on Friday. Who would have thought that a week later, I would find myself scammed out of $300?
When I came home and found out that I fell victim to a classic gas-station scam, I flew into a panic. I felt the overwhelming urgency to make my $300 reappear in my bank account. I was completely unwilling to let it go.
I posted an ad on craigslist to sell my old acoustic guitar for $100 and sold some clothes at Plato’s closet for $30.
Around 7:20 that evening I found myself in a Publix parking lot selling my first acoustic guitar that had been given to me by my parents when I was in 10th grade to a complete stranger. Her name was Kelly and she was just some middle aged woman. What type of person was she, you ask? Quite simply, she was the type of person who would randomly find a guitar to buy on craigslist and execute the transaction in a Publix parking lot.
I told Kelly about my problems, as if to think for a moment that Kelly was somehow connected to all of this – to the fact that I was fired from my job, to the scam that cost me $300 this morning, to the radical business idea, to the…
Kelly took the guitar, handed me 5 20’s and said, “Well, these are all just lessons.”
On 9/11/2009 I was fired from my job as a marketing rep. Since then I have kept a blog that details my life's journey since this happened. I have always been a writer my whole life and usually write about 1500 words per day.
Here is one of the first posts that I wrote, and it is one of my personal favorites.
September 18: One Week After Being Fired
One week ago I was fired from my job. It was a lot like an execution, except I'm still alive. I even wore a tie because I knew it was coming and wanted to leave with dignity. I worked for an organization that touted a Christian message, and what I have learned is that often times, the message is a mask. I worked for a person who lied to me, humiliated me, took credit for my work, and made a strong effort to trick me in any way that she could before finally firing me without a concrete, legitimate cause. For over 3 months, she danced around the psychological prison she put me in. Imagine knowing it's a bad economy but also knowing that your own supervisor was working extra hard behind your back to get your fired. The experience opened my eyes to see the monsters that exist in everyday life.
I don't like the analogy of comparing life to a "ride." When you talk about life like that, you are implying that someone else is taking you somewhere. The reality is that you are on your own. Life is more like being lost alone in a city maze late at night. One wrong turn and the air gets quieter and the lights get dimmer.
Today I was scammed out of $300 by some stranger at a gas station. A guy offered me a living room stereo and an elaborate story about how this stereo goes for $1,700 on ebay. It seemed so easy, and like the saying goes, "if it's too good to be true..." you know the rest. When I got home, I googled the product name and see “scam” next to it, fifth search down. The second I gave this con artist the money was the second I knew I just made a mistake. And much like getting fired from work, it was a battle against my own inner weakness – my desire to believe that everything happens for a reason. When I met this guy at the gas station, I wanted to believe that my luck had turned for the better. I wanted to believe that, yes, this was my lucky day. I wanted to believe that somehow I was going to magically have $1,700 in my bank account, and not have to worry about money just a little while longer. But I didn't believe it. Deep down my gut instinct was pulling me in the other direction. My desire to believe was stronger, and broke the leash. I told myself never to become a gambler. I guess we've all tried it at least once.
This all happened before noon this morning. I pulled up to a gas pump at a station inches from my apartment complex. I was on my way to Kinko’s to FedEx "The Folder of Truth," as my girlfriend calls it, to human resources. It was my last ditch attempt to tell someone about what really happened, with evidence.
My teachers in school always used to love me, and told me that I was going to be president of the United States one day. Right now, I have lost the second office job that I had after college, in the worst of economic times. My life has turned upside down, as I stay up all night doing whatever I want.
One night last week, I stopped by a college hookah bar and didn’t even make it in the door. I got caught up talking to some activist girl and her friend, who were promoting awareness for some cause – I can’t remember if it was for abused women or encouraging you to adopt a dog from the shelter. Regardless, I was in support of them, and was amazed at how one could feel so passionate about something that doesn’t even register in the mind of most people.
Then I did the same thing at a different college hangout across the street. I loitered outside the front while trying to decide if I wanted to pay $5 to get in. There was plenty of activity going on outside, so I figured there was no point. Plus, I’m a drifter. I go wherever.
I got caught off guard listening to a group of guys tell stories. This guy points to his fat friend, and starts talking about a time when this guy wore a “**** me I’m fat” shirt and attracted some girl who he claims he had sex with. He says, “I ****ed her three nights later and never talked to her again. She’s like, ‘why didn’t you call me?’ I was like, ‘whatever’.” And this guy was majorly fat.
From there I thought I’d pass through my old neighborhood. I hooked a right down the main boulevard of my old stomping grounds. I lived there until I was 18. It was an old neighborhood, and very poorly lit at night. It was actually a bit creepy – big trees casting shadows around whatever light was there. I saw the street light that was still right outside of my house. It gave a dim amber glow against the darkness that surrounded it. The houses were all low and wide, all one story. They all had big windows in the front. I remember my house had a car port, no garage. It was a nice house, but when I drove back by I realized just how tiny it was.
Then I cruised down to Park Avenue past deserted shops and people leaving the wine bar. It was around 1:30 am. I spotted two guys playing acoustic guitar on a public bench looking like a couple of poor bastards catching quarters. I parked my car a block away and walked back towards those guys with my own acoustic guitar in hand. I tossed it in the backseat of my car before leaving earlier that night at 11:30.
I walked by a couple, late 20’s/early 30’s seated outside, obviously on a date. The guy was wearing a crisp button-up shirt, his chest looking pretty metrosexual with the shave job. The girl was wearing heels and skirt and looking straight primped in the face. It was the type of thing that made me think of how superficial dating is. I suppose it’s blatantly obvious since I stopped going to bars on the weekends.
I walked up to those guys with guitars and asked them if they wanted to jam. These guys were like, “yeah sure.” One of the guys was very friendly but the other guy was a bit aloof and complex-looking. I am very leery of people who are strangely aloof and give off a complex vibe.
The friendly guy was pretty good at guitar and sang pretty well too. He could sing and play good songs. The friendly guy talked a lot, and told me they were from a town 4 hours away. I asked them what they were doing over here, and he said, “I don’t know yet. We just got here.” Both of these guys were like 19. After we played a few tunes together, I parted ways with them.
I tossed my guitar back in the car and headed to Del-Taco, a good choice at 3 in the morning. After chowing down on two flatbread tacos I came home and fell into a peaceful sleep. It was the weekend. I had just been fired on Friday. Who would have thought that a week later, I would find myself scammed out of $300?
When I came home and found out that I fell victim to a classic gas-station scam, I flew into a panic. I felt the overwhelming urgency to make my $300 reappear in my bank account. I was completely unwilling to let it go.
I posted an ad on craigslist to sell my old acoustic guitar for $100 and sold some clothes at Plato’s closet for $30.
Around 7:20 that evening I found myself in a Publix parking lot selling my first acoustic guitar that had been given to me by my parents when I was in 10th grade to a complete stranger. Her name was Kelly and she was just some middle aged woman. What type of person was she, you ask? Quite simply, she was the type of person who would randomly find a guitar to buy on craigslist and execute the transaction in a Publix parking lot.
I told Kelly about my problems, as if to think for a moment that Kelly was somehow connected to all of this – to the fact that I was fired from my job, to the scam that cost me $300 this morning, to the radical business idea, to the…
Kelly took the guitar, handed me 5 20’s and said, “Well, these are all just lessons.”