2 September 2020
I am in the process of moving to a new time zone now, but I’m staying put.
For about a week I have been clawing my way out of the Third Shift Ghetto. Neither my cat nor my generally nocturnal metabolism have endorsed this move, nor expressed much interest in assisting me with it, but I am adamant. I have been sleeping and eating irregularly as a result, but I am gradually altering my habits into a more diurnal schedule. It’s not that bad, comparatively; I’ve been mainly in a dithering daze for most of the process, never being quite sure whether it’s time to sleep or shit or stare off into space.
But that part’s trivial.
As of last Friday, I am no longer employed at the QuikkStopp by the Interstate™. Around a month and a half ago the new edict came down from on high: Beginning next Tuesday, because Wuhan Flu™ is so serious, employees must be masked while on duty. (You know, kinda like, “First thing tomorrow morning we need to start evacuating the house because it’s on fire.”) I had no intention of complying with a one size fits all solution to a highly specific problem, and I told the manager that I would not be participating and attempted to apologize if firing me constituted any hardship. (It would. I am an extremely valuable employee.) He cut me off and told me not to tell him stuff he didn’t need to hear. I went back to work and hoped that that was the end of it, nor did he bring it up again. It might have been the end of it. I didn’t know, but I believe it is more courteous (and generally more profitable) to let people come to their senses rather than to back them into corners. But some will back themselves into corners. I suppose the shop manager finally received sufficient heat from above. Friday morning near the end of my final shift he showed up early and pointed out that I still had not made any effort to comply and I agreed and reiterated my position. He sighed and asked me if I’d sign a resignation for him, which of course I did, and then we parted.
I am not necessarily delighted by this, and I expect that some will express their doubts, but I am less concerned than ever before. If necessary, it looks like I might be able to eat my savings until Social Security and their tax victims start kicking in for my support, but that’s probably not the most prudent approach. First of all, it leans a little too hard on finite assets, and things can change. Often unexpectedly, and usually for the worse. Whether by Fed fueled inflation or radical fluctuations in the metals market, my expectations could be severely compromised. (Or gloriously surpassed.)
Given my family history and generally sound health, early disbursal seems like a bad deal. Waiting until “full retirement” remains my aim (and not just because it was scheduled for 666.) Fortunately, monetary inflation and the metals market generally move in parallel, so the metallic approach should cushion me against any nasty Weimar scenarios. Also fortunately, I can still work arithmetic and will be able to foresee what’s happening to my reserves. If I do have to bite the bullet and muzzle up for the next QuikkStopp or McGreasetrap’s I will have plenty of notice.
Meanwhile… Without having my irreplaceable time consumed and my sensitive little feelings battered nightly by entitled children, ignorant savages, and discourteous jerks, I may actually be able to rally the cognitive reserves needed to crack through the arcana and get my books onto Amazon’s platform. There are about a billion anglophones on Earth. Of them a fraction CAN read. Of them a minority fraction DO read. Of them a fraction read fiction. Of them a minority fraction read speculative fiction. Of them a fraction might like my stuff enough to pay me for it. I want to contact THEM, but I don’t know how yet.
Perhaps quitting the QuikkStopp is just the moral ass-kickin’ that I needed. Like most girly-men, I am highly risk averse. I never ran off to Hollywood or Broadway, after all, preferring the more reliably remunerative methods of feeding and educating my children. Well, I am now unburdened by such considerations. I may be a little past leading man pretty, and still quite politically repulsive as far as show biz zeitgeist goes, but I can still write, and I still enjoy it. So, for the next two months, at least, that’s my new job!
:. (edit post 190719 — exposure constituting concealment…)
These comments are sponsored by The Confederate Mint (purveyors of metallic securities in gold, silver, copper, and lead). For sample sheets of Metallic Certificates (total face value One Tenth Silver Dollar) send One Silver Dime plus a self-addressed stamped envelope; or Four United States Legal Tender Federal Reserve “Dollars” in scrip, check, or money order, to Greigh Area Associates, c/o Gene Greigh // 401 Rio Concho Drive, #105; San Angelo, Texas; 76903
A lot of folks can be benefited out of your writing. Cheers!