I've never cared for school. I was smart, I suppose--but didn't care, nor did I feel like applying myself. I enjoyed playing the "fuck it" card, for lack of a better term. I skipped school, partied profusely, turned in sub-par work because I could. I coasted through high school and didn't last four years in college. It wasn't important to me. "Living" was important in my adolescent, cheap beer-logged brain. I never had a vision of what I wanted to do for a living. The closest I could really get to an idea of what I wanted to do was teach, oddly enough. Really? Yeah, not sure why. Okay. But fuck man, a guy like me? I'm not that guy. So 'fuck it', let's move on. 'Moving on' consisted of a million different jobs just to pay for rent (on a good month) and beer. I sold copy machines, I sold fence, I drove a bread truck, I bagged groceries, I sold paint and treadmills at Sears, I wore a tuxedo and served banquet food at a "fancy" Ramada, I drove a Schwann's truck, I worked in HVAC, I mopped up cigarette butts and vomit after Ted Nugent concerts at the Shrine Mosque, I was a welder, I loaded FedEx trucks at 5am, and probably a dozen more jobs that I can't think of immediately because my head hurts from trying to remember all this shit. And this was just in the 1990s. One. Million. Jobs. But I worked. The gig I enjoyed the most was Sears. Met a ton of solid folks, some I still converse with via social media, which is nice. And that prompted my "career path" of retail sales--primarily in the Outdoor Industry. Had a good go at that, about 15 years or so. Some good times, good folks (some absolute fuck-sticks, too...looking at you, Tucker Ladd). Learned a ton about most every aspect of that industry, from sales to ops to marketing and whatever else. But at the end of the day, I was selling shit to assholes. Don't get me wrong, just because you buy a North Face jacket or a Winston fly rod or a Yeti cooler or the like, doesn't automatically make you an asshole. If that were the case, we'd pretty much all be in that category in one way or another. Yes, customers can most certainly be assholes. Especially when they're focussed on spending thousands of their disposable dollars on shit. So one side of that statement is somewhat fitting--that I sold shit to assholes. "Shit" being the ludicrously expensive recreational gear that one spends their thousand dollar bill that they found between the couch cushions on. And 'asshole" meaning that this type of person more times than not is indeed an asshole. The other meaning, If you haven't figured It out yet...Is that I sold shit to assholes. It's like selling ice to Eskimos. They don't fucking need it. You get it. I digress. It had its ups. Paid the bills. I shouldn't bitch. At any rate...my career path has since shifted. And for the better, I should add. After some solid stay-at-home-dadding and some mighty fun BBQ bizzing, I am teaching. I should clarify and give credit where credit is due. I am a Para Educator. I help those who have, in fact, stayed in college and received a degree and certifications that allow them to teach. I help Kindergarteners through fifth graders read, comprehend, write, speak, behave, and enjoy their existence and those around them. I haven't been there long, but I've already had several "FUCK YES" moments. That didn't happen much while merchandising a retail store with lots of $400 coats. It's new. It may wear off. It might make me drink more. But it's fulfilling. Haven't had that in a while. And my kids go to school there, so that makes it twice as fun...usually. Unless Hank is being a dick. End of blog post. *
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AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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