Crawling Under a Rock

My “crawling under a rock” moment happened yesterday at a big supermarket chain store- you know, the type big enough to have self-checkout machines.

It started with a typical walk through the aisles making note of items on sale. I’d compare them in my head to what the normal price was as well as what it typically sold for at competing stores. I thought I was done picking up all the things I both needed and wanted. But, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Like the proverbial pregnant woman, I had a yen for pickles, even though last I looked I was of the male persuasion and nowhere close to needing maternity clothes.

It became too convenient as the aisle I traipsed through contained condiments such as peanut butter, jelly, mustard, honey and, yeah- pickles. There they were- several different brands. My eye (the good one) immediately caught sight of one on sale at 2 for $5.00, which was a real bargain. Normal price would have been anywhere between $3.29 to $3.49. I grabbed a jar even though it was glass, knowing well my propensity to not grasp things so well anymore in my right hand. That’s what that damn carpal tunnel does to you. From my wrist to the tip of my fingers, it is a constant feeling of needle pins, the same sensation when you bump your elbow funny bone. Not only the out-of-body sensation, but there is a loss of sensitivity to touch.
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Show Me The Money

It used to be illegal to show real money on television. Maybe it still is and they just overlook it. The people in Washington were afraid that counterfeiters would freeze frame pictures of the money and somehow figure out how to duplicate it using a rudimentary form of digital reproduction. Game shows handed out fake currency to winners and then the lucky contestants picked up the real cash afterward while signing a Federal Tax form. Contestants were warned by the production assistants before the show to act natural and excited about holding fake twenty dollar bills in their hands while on camera or go home with booby prizes or even nothing.

I don’t know if I would have been a willing enough contestant to act ecstatic over play money. You see, just like in the movie from a few years ago, the expression “Show Me The Money” has been my battle cry. It became ingrained after dealing early on in my self-employment career with stinkers who loved to kite checks. A few times I had to re-present a check to my bank in order to cash it while paying the NSF fee. Yeah, try to collect that back from the con artist, too. I’ve turned down projects where a prospect wanted me to do the work first and if they liked it, they would then pay me even more than I asked for. Yeah, sure.
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Maxwell Street

You remember Maxwell Street, right? That special outdoor bazaar was located in the near west area just outside the Chicago Loop. I went to visit my buddy Stanley- you know, the one who got arrested years ago by Chicago cops? Yeah, that guy. I needed a bicycle part and that’s what he now sells. I asked how was business going and he said okay but that he had to work harder than ever and wondered if it was worth it.

So, I got about to asking him what was the best job he ever had. “that’s easy”, he replied, “Maxwell Street.” I asked him if he had more time to elaborate and he said, “why not?”
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