Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Quitting my job for Bob

From: Pastor Steve <stevegDamnManNoSpam@delanet.com>

Date: Sun, 01 Feb 1998 09:17:14 -0500

 

Greetings,

Way back in '81, I gave up. I was a starving, frop smoking, struggling

actor. Working minimum wage jobs in between the all too few and far

between acting jobs was hard and slack deficient. At my lowest point,

living outside, crashing on friends couches on lucky nights and sleeping

in laundramats on nights that weren't so lucky, I cashed in my chips and

joined the Air Force. I knew what I was doing. I knew I was selling my

soul. I even knew what path this alternate reality would take me down.

Bob help me, I did it anyway.

 

I did the four years I signed up for. I got married to my high school

sweet-heart (we're still together by the way and crazy about each

other). Nine months after we got married (almost to the day), our

daughter was born and I swallowed the Con's dirty little pill that it

was now time to really grow up and join the adult world. Even though I

joined the "responsible" world, I never seemed to fit in. I was

outspoken and politically incorrect. I was openly Libertarian and at

times libertine. I was a long-hair among the suits. They knew it, no

matter how short my hair was coifed. When I was around the herd grew

restless. They could smell wolf even though I had long ago donned

sheeps clothing (or perhaps a sheep in wolfs clothing). I was a Pagan,

thrown to the Christians.

 

For the last 16 years, I've lived inside of the Conspiracy. I've been a

dupe that wasn't duped. I traded freedom for three squares a day. I

stopped gardening because I could just drop some cash on a conveyor and

get some peas and corn in a plastic bag (for my convienience). I get no

joy from my days and wish most of them away. Each weekday starts with

the dread of another day spent trapped in a dead-end job and each

weekend I awake with the knowlege I'll be back on Monday morning. Joy

happens by accident and all too infrequently.

 

Then finally, with what seemed like crashing suddeness, I turned to my

wife one day and said "I hate my life."

She knew that I didn't mean "our" life. She knew that I meant the job,

the sell-out, the bullshit and the stress.

 

That was two years ago. We've batted around ideas. I changed

departments at work to do something that I really love (computer repair)

but it was only a temporary fix. After much inner and outer discussion,

I walked confidently into my bosses office and announced that I was

leaving to go into business for myself. I gave them a date of July 15th

(that's when I can pick up my wife's medical benefits). Plenty of

notice, too much perhaps, but I felt it was good karma to inform them of

my decision as soon as I was quite sure of it. Besides, now I can work

toward my goals openly without having to make up lies. I can talk

openly to the Human resources department and make sure that I have all

of my ducks in a row so I don't get screwed out of anything.

 

I know this transition won't be easy. I'm kinda pretty fucking scared.

I'm also kinda pretty fucking brave so I'm gonna do this and not turn

back. I probably have a struggle in front of me. At least now the

struggle is mine and I've taken control back of my own destiny.

 

After all, I'm a Yetti if I don't fucking say so myself.

 

Pastor Steve

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