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Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Not Exactly a Good Day

Hush now baby, baby, dont you cry.
Mother's gonna make all your nightmares come true.
Mother's gonna put all her fears into you.
Mother's gonna keep you right here under her wing.

BAAAAAAH FUCK THE WORLD!

FUCK THESE STUPID COMPANIES!
FUCK THE MAN!

FUCK EVERYTHING!!

Yesterday was one of those ‘I’ve been better’ days.

I woke up to a phone call with a man from Pseudotech wanting to interview me for a job.

He barely mentioned his company name, never mentioned how he received my resume, never even mentioned what the job was (nor did I ask…for some reason).
Something was fishy about defacorp

First thing that tipped me off was the catchy little name that he quickly read off, Vivatech International or anything that ends with -tech.
Second thing was that he failed to mention what the job was. I was thinking throughout the call, What the hell is this company?
Third, the speaking skills this man had for a HR person was dreadful. He was grunting and not even prepared for my response (WTF).

After the phone call I was so curious to check out this place (which was in fucking Crystal!)

When I arrived at this place my curiosity turned to disapointment as the address led to the type of building where dentist, small insurance agency, ’get out of debt quick’ business, and more businesses that end in -tech.

Not a good sign.

I came home and checked the website and the website didn’t even give any insight to what the company does. My frown started growing.

Then I went to a telemarketing website to compare. This website tells you about how great this company is and all the possibilities in careers with such a business. Oh the sky is the limit with commission and A CHANCE TO RUN YOUR OWN BUSINESS!

My conclusion: Pyramid scheme.
Baaaaah

So I drove back home in a worse mood.

I came home to find some odds and ends when I came across ’my bin’.

I believe everyone has something like ’my bin’ be it scrapbooks, photo albums, or maybe even a collection of things like spoons, patches, or pins. It's Something that keep personal, powerful memories inside. Something that you would consider to be the first thing to grab in the midst of a fire or flood.

I had ’my bin’ full of birth stuff, baseball stuff, awards, newspapers, and photos that were essential to me. It wasn’t anything more than the size of a 1X2’ box. There is nothing valuable to anyone in this bin. No one except me where such a bin is the most priceless and treasured keepsake I have. Everyone in my family has such a bin and there's always been the understanding that while people can look, they cannot take anything out of our bins.

This bin is literally my life in objects, pictures, and awards. It's such a bin that whenever I need to ’take stock’ in myself I can always open it up and swim through the bright memories of the extreme good times and life changing events.

As I was rummaging through the newly ’organized’ basement I found ’my bin’ and once I lifted it up when there was something terribly wrong. The once sizable, full plastic container didn’t feel that overcoming.

My heart panicked to a series of rumbling beats as I set the bin down. Wide eyed with my gut feelings on my sleeve, I opened it.

The site was the equivalent of an emotional blow to the temple. Feelings of rage, sadness, helplessness, and misunderstanding filled my thoughts as I was looking into an ‘organized’ bin of only school yearbooks and baby stuff.

Little league championship trophy, gone
box scores of the little league games, gone
Twins World Series newspaper “Twice”, gone
Cal Ripken’s 2131th game newspaper, gone
September 12th newspaper, gone
Twin Cities Marathon 2003 results section of the Pioneer Press, gone

And that’s just the immediate things that come to mind.

“What happened to my stuff!!!!!” I carefully asked.

“Well why didn’t you take it with you when you moved?” was the reply.

…because such a vengeful response makes everything better.

I’m used to this for a point because I have always had dear possessions mistaken as junk like my topographic map of my first backpacking trip, the Twins pennant with signatures, and my Pink Floyd posters. This bin though, was the one exception and I always thought it went without saying.

Now if the house burns down I just have to ensure the safety of my family now that most of my prized possessions are gone.

I just can’t believe it.

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