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09:06:44 - 2000-06-09

NO NEW JOB FOR BOB

Lesson Number One: Don't Fuck With Uncle Bob.

And with that...the subject is officially dropped.

Soooo....

I had my "job interview" yesterday.

Heh.

This guy Trey calls me yesterday morning to set up a time we can meet.

We agree on 1:15.

I ask him where the office is located and he says "Let's just meet at Wendy's."

Ummm...okay. A job interview at Wendy's. As long as the job's not for the head fry cook, I'm coo' with that.

I get there and find the guy, shake his hand and sits down.

He tells me he's a big fan of mine. Yeah bud. I heard that the other day. What do you want out of me and how much are you paying me?

He has a small laptop computer with him. I presumed it was to show me this site he's working on and wants me to write for.

Ummmmm....no.

To make a long story short...this sonofabitch wants me to sell Amway on the Internet.

I seriously laughed when he told me that.

I sat through a 10 minute production on his laptop on how great this site is that sells "everything imaginable".

It WASN'T a site that this guy was "working on" like he told me over the phone.

It was freakin' AMWAY, DUDE.

He gave me all kinds of hyperbole and propaganda on Amway. How MILLIONS of people buy Amway (I've never known a soul who bought anything from them. Then again ... I don't hang out with INSANE IDIOTS WHO SHUN THE AMERICAN WAY OF DOING LEGITIMATE BUSINESS).

Finally, after 45 minutes of sitting in the middle of Wendy's with this guy talking LOUDLY and trying to sell me on this deal, he paused to take a breath.

At which time I spoke up.

"Honestly, Trae," I said. "I'm not interested in this deal. I was under the impression that you needed me to write for some new site. That's what I do. I'm a writer."

"Oh," Trae said, his chest deflating. "Well...how long do you think THAT'S going to last?"

....Like I'm going through some sort of phase or something. Some "fan" he turned out to be.

"I'm not sure," I responded. "But I know it takes a certain type of person to sell Amway, and I'm not that person."

(I neglected to mention that certain type of person is a DESPERATE, GIVING-UP-ON-LIFE PERSON).

Trae ACTUALLY got defensive here ... saying he doubted my newspaper would be around much longer and I might want to reconsider.

Oh that's smart, pal. Bully me into taking your stupid little Amway salesman job. That's a GREAT way to get me to come work for you.

He kept on pushing the subject that I could be a millionaire if I'd just give him $250 so I could start my "new job".

Yeah right, buddy. What do I look like...a moron??

(Or...in Diaryland terminology..."What do I look like...Stop Sucking??")

I finally told him I had an appointment and hauled ass out of Wendy's.

I shoulda known something was up when he didn't even offer to buy me a refreshing ice cold soft drink as we sat there for 45 minutes.

I'm sure the Wendy's people appreciated us taking up a table without buying a thing.

God, it was so embarrassing. Sitting in Wendy's having to listen to a loud presentation on a laptop for Amway while people are eating and staring at me, wondering if I'm going to take the job or not.

Anyway...no new job for me.

**************************

The principal of a local elementary school stopped by the office yesterday to speak with me for a few minutes on something their school did recently.

When I went to meet the principal in the lobby I said "Well, this is the first time a Principal has been sent to MY office."

That was the wittiest thing I think I've said in ages. I kept giggling at my own little joke while the principal spoke until she wanted to slap me.

**************************

Allison, the coolest intern in the free world, is back working with me this summer.

Allison ...man...she is sooooo good at writing. She rocks a llama's ass.

But we're having a small problem.

Our sports editor is a loud, blow-hard who thinks the entire staff revolves around his needs. On her first day back, he assigned Allison five sports stories, under the impression that she was EVERYONE'S intern.

Allison HATES sports and knows nothing about sports.

But she's such a sweetheart, she wouldn't tell him this to his face. She came to me instead and asked what should she do.

I told her I'd handle it.

So I told our sports editor that she was MY intern and that I would be assigning her stories.

The owner of the paper was in the room at the time and actually crossed me (the insane bastard...didn't he learn anything from the Stop Sucking incident???).

"No, Uncle Bob," the owner said. "She's EVERYONE'S intern."

So I threw up my hands in defeat and didn't say anything else about it.

I feel bad for Allison who just wants to help me out and wants nothing to do with the sports section.

But for once, my hands are tied in the matter.

*sigh*

But ... the situation isn't over yet. I'm giving the sports editor the cold shoulder and so is everyone else.

Maybe he'll get the hint.

*************************

Tomorrow's our yard sale. I'm taking today off to get all the last minute stuff done. Primarily...cleaning out our cottage in the back yard and selling all the crap that's been stored in there for years.

Anybody wanna buy a case of beach balls with holes in them??

We're getting up at 3 a.m. tomorrow to start dragging stuff out onto the front lawn.

So, it's pretty safe to say you won't receive your daily dose of Uncle Bob until later tomorrow, if at all tomorrow.

I know I'll be physically exhausted by noon. I'll probably catch a nap after Goodwill comes to pick up all the leftover junk and then perhaps make my way back here to report on all the psychos that showed up in my front yard.

I did something kinda stupid in my column this week. I gave out my address and told people to stop by the yard sale and I'd give 'em 20 percent off whatever they bought if they told me they loved the column.

When am I ever going to learn??

(Did I promise a testicle-splitting entry yesterday? Sorry. Lemme try and make up for it.)

Why do blondes have one more brain cell than horses?

So they don't shit in the streets at parades.

Heh. I kill me.

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