ABC’s Wide World of Roof Jumping (Essay Re-post, 993 Word Count)
January 17, 2020Not Exactly a Typical Evening in Winter (Essay Re-post 643 Word Count)
February 14, 2020Here’s a short story that actually got written a while ago. Since I’m going through some financial adventures (or mis-adventures as the case may be) of my own at the present moment, I figured this short story would be appropriate. A little bit longer than the normal essays I post, but you’ll enjoy reading it, and that’s what it’s all about. Word Count: 30341
Getting Rich in the
Figurative Sense
“Great minds discuss ideas, mediocre minds discuss events, and small minds discuss people. Premium mediocre minds discuss Bitcoin, while totally insignificant intellectual types discuss the fact that they want more of it in their digital accounts.” Now without the Bitcoin reference right at the end of that statement, this quote is attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt. She more or less got it right, which is kind of scary when you really think about it.
Does that mean I’m not quite playing with a full deck of cards in this game of life? I guess you could say that, but I like to think I’m making a little bit of progress towards achieving what some people in society say is becoming a member of the 1/10th of 1% class. Entrepreneurs and business heads of state so successful that congress and the “Mango Mussolini” had people like them in mind when they rammed their tax cuts through back in 2018.
My name is Vladimir Putinesqua. Besides the fact that a large percentage of people massacre my name whenever they try to spell, or pronounce it, I’ve had to go through most of my life in this country withstanding a steady stream of misguided references related to my moniker. Guess it could be worse. What if my name was that of the guy I met last week. He’s carried around the namesake, Gaspar Uranus all his life.
Let’s take a deeper look at this whole name thing, shall we? Right around Halloween, people inevitably ask me if I’d prefer to have my prime rib served extra rare just so I can slurp all that red liquid stuff coagulating on my plate. Then when they find out I’m originally from Russia, they inevitably figure I’m some sort of spy. This usually has them dealing with me from two or three feet away. Taking s guarded stance not unlike I’m carry a highly contagious strain of the flu.
Finally, a lot of people tell me they automatically assume I’ve got this burning desire to secretly control everything. I would like to direct most of the factors in my life, but that has more to do with this sudden desire to increase the size of the assets in my financial portfolio. As opposed to increasing the size of a certain part of my anatomy, or one day achieving ultimate power.
I’m not your normal, run-of-the-mill, leading-a-life-of-quiet-desperation type, guy either. For one thing, I’ve built up my miniscule nest-egg through a slow, but steady accumulation of money ever since first setting up that financial-advice-purveyor-to-other-five-year-olds stand almost forty years ago in mother Russia. Now I live in Edgewood, Ohio. The place used to be on the edge of a forest, but the slow creep of suburbia has resulted in the edge of town now being an expanded strip mall next to a tractor plant.
My minuscule stock and other portfolio investments along the way have helped, but most of the money I’ve built up has come from gritting my teeth, occasionally closing my eyes, and telling myself it would all pay off one day as I stayed inconspicuous while sorting envelopes in the mail room.
Speaking of company mail rooms, there’s definitely something to be said for keeping a low profile while pretending to be attending to the whims and wishes of The Suits, but instead studying corporate financial reports. Basically, in order to figure out the inner workings of the business when no one’s noticing that quiet Russian guy.
I’m a mid-level production manager for a major manufacturer/distributor of pharmaceutical aides in the good ‘ole U.S. of A. You may be asking yourself, what the Hell is that? In a nutshell, the Omni Touch Corporation where I work, happens to be the largest manufacturer of the drug Paardoxical.
What is this Paardoxical drug you speak of? Let me explain. Going under the knife for cosmetic surgery isn’t just the domain of Hollywood starlets anymore. Basically, it’s not that uncommon to see a profile on your favorite celebrity gossip show about how beautifying operations have become a major budget expenditure amongst housewives in the Midwest.
Scientists at the Omni Touch Corporation have taken advantage of this widespread popularity to develop a special type of drug which allows its users to experience the results of their operation pain-free. Additionally, taking Paardoxical before your surgery also allows the patient to view their operation as it takes place. That is, if the person happens to be sadistically inclined in that way.
Being a production manager for Omni Touch, I’ve had numerous opportunities to promote and expound upon the wonderful virtues of Paardoxical. Ironically enough, my wife has gotten really good at telling me I’ve mortgaged my soul to the devil as a result of working for Omni Touch. Yet she still has no problem spending a certain percentage of the money they pay me. We discussed this, amongst various other enlightening and not so revealing facts one evening, post-dinner.
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Both of us try to speak to each other in English when we’re at home. That way we can achieve total fluency with the language one day. This also ensures that soon we’ll be able to communicate in the language better than most native speakers. Which should be a fairly easy goal to achieve since most native speakers can barely speak their own language as it is.
Anna is a really good cook, so I probably shouldn’t complain too much whenever she spends a lot of money every time she goes to her favorite organic grocery store. My palette for one, really appreciates this:
“So,” asked Anna. “You like the new way I’ve slow cooked this goose?”
“The results are pretty tasty, how’d you do that?”
“I marinated the bird at really low heat in the oven for an entire day prior to roasting it. That seems to have made the meat fall-off-the-bone tender, don’t you think? Took a little while, but I achieved my goal of making it very delectable too.”
“So that’s why the living room hasn’t been touched since our dinner party last weekend.” Kind of has that southern trailer park tornado aftermath look. Some people like that.
“Your job Rug Doctor. Don’t put that one on me.”
“Sorry dear. I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what? Oh yeah, hanging out down in what these Americans call a Man-Cave. Got to get one’s priorities in order I suppose.”
“No sir, I was down in the Man-Cave last night tooling around with that broken air conditioner.”
“How’s that going by the way? Making any progress?”
“Sort of I guess.” I won’t tell her I’ve hit a roadblock more impenetrable than a ten-meter thick wall. “Bits and pieces from my disassembly of the unit are scattered all over the place. Why’d I ever think I had some mechanical ability?”
“And you haven’t figured out where all of them go?”
“Definitely. These extra parts are causing me all sorts of bewilderment and how they say, consternation.”
“That’s what they make garbage cans for. That way you can hide the evidence so no one knows they went over-board when they first designed the piece.”
“Really?”
“I still content some of these machines were designed by their engineers on another one of their powdered donut binges.” Sort of like the engineers at Omni Touch?”
“Our stock just hit an all-time high last week. I guess we must be doing something right.”
“You’re underestimating the effect the current administration in Washington has on society.”
“How so?” This ought to be a good one. Anna hates PPOTUS (Pretend President) almost as much as I do.
“Some people are disenchanted with the way things are falling apart in this country, that whenever they look in the mirror and see that pathetic image staring back at them, they end up making the decision to fix their face by going under the knife. That’s why sales of your Paaralax drug are so explosive.”
“Paardoxical you mean.”
“Paaralax, Paardoxical, Paardicament. Whatever term you want to use, it’s all the same. People seem to be consuming these pills like they’re candy. Is it any wonder the opioid epidemic is currently out of control in this country?”
“I guess not. When you actually think about it, this is almost too bizarre. Omni Touch is succeeding so swimmingly just because of that fact.”
“So then why don’t you quit working there?”
“Isn’t that easy. Besides, Sometimes I think it’s better to bring about change from within, as opposed to totally being out of the loop by quitting. You wouldn’t like it if I completely abandoned the job. That would mean less money in the bank account to withdraw.” That ought to shut her up. More or less diplomatic with my statement too.
“In that case, you should probably keep your options open. Never know what might happen.”
There you have it, Anna doesn’t want me to quit since that would bring an end to the gravy train. In that case; “I’ll keep my eyes open and ears to the ground. Then if anything comes up that could potentially change the situation, I’ll be ready to pounce on it.” On the other hand, that will probably take place right around the time congress comes up with a new way to solve the nationwide opioid crisis by inventing a pill that allows its users to get off the drugs they’re already addicted to.
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Interestingly enough, I actually did start to explore some other options for finding a new job that would put me in a better position as far as the morality scale goes. First came the soul-searching phase of the operation.
I’ve always been a bit of a defiant rebel. This reminds me of my friend Jake Muensterman, whom I met when I first arrived in America. He told me about that incident in third grade where he refused to agree with this other kid when he said Batman would beat the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in a fight. First off, concurring with the guy wasn’t going to happen because like me, Jake had a hard time admitting he might be wrong. His argument at that moment of his youth was that the Turtles would pulverize The Dark Knight specifically because of their larger numbers, plus superior ninja training from their rat sensei of course.
When I first arrived on these shores and started college, I instigated the organization and operation of a non-profit specifically geared towards collecting funds to help disenfranchised traveling encyclopedia salesmen. Never mind the fact that my next-door neighbor and new best friend, Lorenzo Groff, happened to be one of them, and was forced to move into my basement. His main source of income having imploded upon itself with the advent of the Internet. This resulted in the wife leaving him, his retirement fund stock options tanking faster than a competitor from the tropics competing in the Winter Olympics, and his trusty ’82 Mazda RX-7 with 777,000 miles to its name, finally giving up the ghost.
Did the non-profit succeed? Sort of, since we did accumulate a little bit of money, and Lorenzo eventually moved out of the basement into a utility apartment with a kitchen smaller than most people’s pantry. Then again, that didn’t take place till the second semester of getting my Master’s degree, and we started the non-profit the summer before my sophomore year. Some things take a little bit longer than anticipated to fall into place, and this was one of them.
What about that first job straight out of college? Working as a barista at that fancy coffee shop charging its patrons the kind of money that makes regular purchases at Starbucks look like you’re bending over to pick up a penny off the sidewalk.
This job was actually kind of fun, since I got to practice my artistic skills with the coffee machine’s foam wand, and the job was more or less a transition employment gig. Didn’t get paid all that much, but on the bright side I got to talk to all the big-wigs from Omni Touch upstairs. When that mailroom position opened up, knowing a few management types had me jumping at applying, and I subsequently submitted a resume.
Was I over-qualified for that mailroom job? Since I already had the equivalent of a Master’s in Business Administration from back home in Mother-Russia, what do you think? Still hadn’t achieved U.S. citizenship yet, and I’m sure that had something to do with starting at the bottom of the ladder.
In the past, maybe I’ve found myself taking on all these Sisyphus-like projects because I figured they might lead to something else happening? I guess that’s part of the reason why all of a sudden, I feel like I should accumulate some money to make up for what’s happened in the past? Altruism is all well and good, but it only takes you so far when it comes to a person’s future. Maybe not?
Here’s the really perplexing thing about the whole situation. I actually enjoy planning and organizing these sorts of management type set-ups, and not getting paid all that well for the job. In fact, it doesn’t really matter if it isn’t all that much either. Why can’t I find a job that involves this sort of stuff, but still pays a decent wage and also has something to do with saving the planet? Is that asking too much?
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Apparently not. Later the following week things changed, in at first what seemed like the blink of an eye. That’s never really the case though, since nothing in life happens in one spectacular event. Instead, the change takes place over time, and it’s a slow build-up.
Not unlike that of a Star Wars nerd who answers every conceivable question about the SW Universe that’s put to him. You wonder how he got so knowledgeable all at once, but in actuality its comes from having seen every movie in the series at least four times (the better ones, lots more than that). It also helps that he spends the majority of his waking hours inside this weird fictional Intergalactic Warfare/Fantasy universe. That is, whenever he doesn’t have to deal with that sucky thing often referred to as “reality.”
A Big reason why I chose to spend the rest of my life with Anna Kuznetsova is because both of us had obtained U.S. Citizenship, and wanted to live in America. The main one though, is the fact that she enthusiastically supports me whenever I do something right, but at the same time choses to take a blind eye and overlook my various eccentricities and faults.
This brings up that time I set up an entire chain of combination gun shops/luxury home furnishings stores. Figuring that since these are two of American’s favorite things, the business venture would succeed way beyond most entrepreneur expectations. Instead, the business failed miserably since it turns out that most high-end customers of habitat merchandise prefer to have someone else doing the shooting for them. Guns and home furnishing items just don’t match. This necessitated me moving back to the barista job. Nothing like moving backwards in order to progress forward? Sort of like the current administration’s philosophy.
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Anna actually panicked slightly when I first told her the Omni Touch job had come to an end. She’d just bought a fancy new dress with its requisite accompanying jewelry, and didn’t want to do the classic American thing. Paying off the credit card that she used to buy it with over the next three to five years. Which basically meant we’d be living in the “Compound Interest Zone” for an indefinite period of time. Inevitably, a $400.00 ensemble slowly turns into an $850.00 special.
“Well darling, I’m carry out what you wanted me to do?” I always try to make it sound like everything was her idea. That way I usually avoid having to sleep on the couch that night.
“You quit working for Omni Touch?”
“About to.”
“I wish you had told me you were planning on doing this last month.” This is when Anna went into all the gory details concerning her latest ballroom gown purchase. The dress definitely sounds like it’s a bit more elegant than the coat I’ve been trudging around in for the past ten years.
“So, how’d the change happen?”
“Remember that night I came home and told you I had such a great day at work?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Things were so much fun at work that day because I got to visit that non-profit.”
“Which one you talking about?”
“Multi-Generations, that combination day-care/senior citizen center for retired auto workers. Lots of the early retirement self-propelled assembly types here in Edgewood since the robots are slowly, but surely taking over.”
“Oh yeah. Why’d the Omni Touch management intelligentsia want you to visit them in the first place?”
“Last year one of our management higher-ups figured we might be able to get increased sales of Paardoxical through my visiting the place. Anyway, they sent me back to Multi-Generations this morning, and I got into this long, drawn-out conversation with one of the center’s low-level administration people.”
“And?”
“I told him about all the different business schemes I’ve helped to set-up and manage in my life, and strangely enough it turns out the center’s top administrator is getting ready to leave. One thing led to another, and pretty soon the guy tells me I should put in an application for the position of the person they’re about to lose.”
“You’re going to do it. Good for you darling.”
“Still haven’t quit the Omni Touch job yet, so we’ve got time to pay off the credit card. You’ve got to quit buying all these fancy outfits of yours.”
“That’s alright. I’m glad you’re doing this. Yours and my consciences will be better for you having taken this course of action in your life.”
“That is if the Multi-Generation job gets offered to me in the first place and I take it. Incidentally, it doesn’t pay all that much so we’ll have to tighten our belts.”
“Fine with me. I could stand to lose a few pounds.”
End