H.G.T.

Time for a less depressing log. As this is my last day at my old job, one final complaint:

I am/was a bill collector. Now every so often, you will try to collect a bill and some arrogant piece of trash will have the pluck to insist that he has paid it.

At this point, you tell the Bastard that he may stave of recrimination by sending some sort of proof.

If he sends it, say a reciept or similar tripe, I have to go through a bunch of records and try to find out if it’s already been credited. If he doesn’t send it, I carry on with the ruining of his life as normal.

Small problem – people insist on sending me photocopies of checks. The fronts of checks.

Now – the front of a check proves nothing, really. Just that they wrote that information on a check blank, which they may or may not have then given to my client.  I need to see the *back* of a check, the endorsment. Try to explain that . . .

Now, a funny story:

I was in the parking lot of my neighborhood national chain grocery store, chatting with a friend I ran into while shopping. We were leaning against his large expensive truck, which I was lusting for while my beat up ole’ thing was parked a few spaces away. As we talked, some fucker walked up and just opened my car door and started to dig around in it. I started walking quickly toward the guy, yelling things like “Motherfucker, are you out of your god-damned mind? What the fuck are you thinking about, you dumb sonuvabitch!” and other refinements. His child cried out and hid behind his legs, and he blanched and started to stammer phrases that had a great similarity too “Gojira is comming! Tokyo no good place right now! Time for vist grandpa on Honshu!”

When I was almost within Horrible Asskicking range of this person, my friend accosted me from behind, grabbing to my shoulder, spun me arround, and pointed to a car parked in the same spot in the next row. It was an identical ford explorer to the one I was contesting. It was the same color and general conditon. It was this second, ghosty explorer, which had escaped my notice, that was, in fact, mine.

I did my best to avoid giving them any further Fear – I pointed at my car, broke into what I hoped was a Han-Solo lovable rapscallion type grin, and shrugged my most layed back shrug.

They drove quickly away, while my friend tried not to laugh, and I cringed to a degree that induced cramps in my face and shoulders.

On losing my job – I have decided that I do not Care.

I never did feel confortable in that role.

I was on the side of Sherifs, Lawmen, Taxmen, Baliffs, Revenuers, Census Takers, Social Workers, and the Law, in short, the Pig Establishment.

And that, my friends, is not, and was never, and further, shall never again, be my side.

It does not suit my system to be a part in such a demonic machine as the established order. From now on, I will accept only life changing, meaningful work doing things I love and/or minor distractions as vocations.

No more getting confortable. No more letting my ass spread in a chair. When they let me go, the loudest voice in my head was the one saying “Two years have gone by in which you have learned nothing and created nothing”

So, like sal paradise, I shall wander the earth (or perhaps just Casper) making what living I can, placing a primacy on enlightenment.

See Vicar, I can read Thompson too.