The Truth of Trash

If you want to learn about who someone really is, check out their trash.


I moonlight as a janitor. That might sound kind of depressing, but I recommend it to anyone working in a corporate setting. It brings you down to earth, lets your mind wander freely, and it's a good workout. Why pay for a gym membership you won't use, when you can get paid to push a mop?

Self-Delusion

What the hell does Vince Lombardi have to say about advertising? Nothing.

And yet, you have some of his motivational garbage pinned to the wall of your cubicle. You’re not a football player. You can’t will yourself to greatness. If you could do that, you wouldn’t be in sales.

In my office, I have a painting of a castle in Spain, an abstract piece a guy made using spray paint and cardboard, and a framed double-sized Captain America comic. On top of my bookshelf, I have about three-hundred dollars worth of Star Wars memorabilia.

I prefer to figure things out on my own.

Tales of the Ex-Wife, Part II

A few months after our third anniversary, two things happened. We separated, and my mom got breast cancer. She stayed at her sister’s house for about two weeks, and then brought her stuff back to the house. Things went back to normal after that, and by normal, I mean silent misery.

Later, when we were enjoy the descent into real divorce territory, she told me the only reason she came back was because my mom got cancer essentially the same week she tried to leave.

Yet another reason for me to wish my mom never got cancer in the first place.

Why I Hate Business Expos

What does tap dancing have to do with commercial real estate? I know you paid a lot of money for that stupid jingle that you play on the talk radio station. I know you think it’s awesome. It’s not.

I hate pointless slogans. “Providing Solutions through Technology.” What kind of solutions? What kind of technology?

I see children carrying swag in goodie bags from bars and casinos. I see hotels trying to get the business of people in their own community. I see crazy old vets who want to ruin my Memorial Day.

And finally, ubiquitously,

I see balloons.

Tales of the Ex-Wife, Part I

Our first apartment was very dark at night. In bed, I could barely see her, even when she was right next to me. One night, I moved to gently touch her face, hoping to turn her head my way for a kiss, and perhaps a little more. My middle finger stopped abruptly, a warm, soft wetness that gave a bit beneath the momentum of my gentle movement. I thought I might have grazed her lip, but then she screamed, and I grabbed for the light.

“WHY DID YOU POKE ME IN THE EYE, YOU ASSHOLE?!”

I didn’t get that goodnight kiss.

The Candy Bar Defense

-Diabetes sucks man

Dave is eating a Snickers bar in the cramped closet they call our break room.

-Yep.
-My granddad has diabetes. He gives himself shots in the belly and shit.
-Yeah.

Chomp-chomp

-So, do you take shots? Insulin, right?
-Nope, not yet.

Smack-smack

-So…pills?
-Yeah.

Crunch-crunch

-And exercise?
-Right.

Dave tosses the candy-bar wrapper in the trash then grabs an ice-cold Coke out of the
stocked mini-fridge by the sink.

-I couldn’t make it. I love sugar too much.

Glug-glug

-Yeah. Hey, Dave…

Ahhh

-Yeah?
-My grandpa has diabetes, too.
-What do you mean?

Sigh

-Enjoy your soda, Dave.