Two Decades Later

Posted: December 2, 2016 in Blur of Life
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This month marks my 20 year anniversary in the Treasure Valley/Boise area. Moved here in 1996 from Winnemucca, where I lived, miserably, next door to a group of wacked-out crankheads in a dilapidated apartment complex with my former wife  and 1 year old redheaded daughter.
I was a regional sales manager/delivery driver/merchandiser with Swire Coca-Cola and had a 300 mile sales area in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada. Several times a week I’d drive hours to deliver less than 4 cases of soda to a vending machine next to an outhouse, or toothless gas station attendant, or a mom-n-pop greasy spoon restaurant. 
I had to be back home by 5pm to get my orders in, using a dial-up Internet connection, or my customers wouldn’t get their shipment from Reno that week. Upper management from Reno trained me for 2 days and expected me to be my own support network.
I had two moronic employees under me whom I’d constantly catch screwing off and therefore I’d end up doing their job just to get it done.  I was up at 4am and crashed into bed about 10pm.
I had a pager (also referred to as a “beeper”), a CB radio installed in the company truck for communication and was on-call 24/7. I was expected to wear my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle-looking uniform anytime I was in any store we serviced… even on my days off.

Needless to say, I was burned-out within a month. I had moved to the shit hole known as Winnemucca from Elko… which was only slightly less of a shit-hole… in search of a big career advancement with the company. Prior to moving, I was their only merchandiser (the dude who stocks the shelves, builds displays, rotates out the expired product) and also the main delivery driver around town (I had my Commercial Drivers Licence).

I was offered a whopping $24,000 yearly to move to the nation’s butthole and not complain about the smell of crap.

Out of boredom I started comping product to some of my Indian reservation customers; bartering Coke cans for a hamburger lunch or firework family packs, which I could then resell to get food money for the family.
I barely made enough to keep the lights on at home and we often ate Ramen for dinner.
When management discovered I was giving product away on occasion, they weren’t pleased. I received a phone call instructing me to stay put at my apartment because they were going to come talk to me. Within 10 minutes this 6′ 7″ Italian thug (aka: my supervisor from Reno) opens my front door without knocking, gets in my face, and demands my truck keys, calling card, and equipment. I was fired on the spot.

At that point I considered my life to be completely meaningless. Here I was, trapped in a section of Hell that even Satan forgets about, not knowing what I was going to do next in order to raise my young family in a safe environment. My wife and I rarely got along, my daughter was barely learning to walk, I had no family nearby and no friends in the area. My options for employments hinged on working for the very same grocery stores I serviced as a Mutant Ninja Coke Employee. I literally wanted to end my life and had the gun and mental instability to do so.

Thankfully, my parents lived in Meridian, Idaho. I tucked my tail between my legs and called my mother, sobbing about how much of a failure I was. After quite a bit of consoling, my mom and dad offered their home for us to move into. The possibility of new opportunities in a town I had only visited a few times (but absolutely loved) was all I needed to rejuvenate my soul. We packed up and moved out that weekend, leaving Winnemucca behind us in the dust bowl that it is.

I’ve since divorced and married and divorced and married and divorced and raised more kids (many of which weren’t blood related), been through more jobs than I care to count, been through even more women than I care to admit, but ultimately I’m very happy with my life in Boise. Twenty years later, 43 years young, and I feel more at home than ever. My family is tight, my friends are wonderful, and I feel blessed to have the job I do.

I still feel as though I’m going nowhere fast as the years slip by even faster, but at least the view kicks ass.

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The Hiatus of 2012

Posted: December 18, 2012 in Blur of Life, The Hiatus of 2012
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Here, have some random bits of genuine Doogle fodder.  Who am I talking to?  Myself, that’s who, ‘”Doogle” (if that really is your name) Dumbass!

Honestly, myself.  The following diatribe consists of pieces of the gunk stuck to the back of my cerebral cortex that has needed a good chiseling for some time now.  This blog entry is intended to chip away some of the chads dangling like annoying dingleberries.  Read it only if you submit to the fact that there’s a lot of chaos rattling around in my head almost every second of the day; awake and asleep.  Some of that chaos spilleth over here.

I haven’t written anything since March!  That fact alone is just preposterous and completely unworthy of respect.  I fart in its general direction! There was a long period in my life where I wrote daily, and even carried a monogrammed leather journal with me everywhere I went.  It didn’t matter that the book bag I used for my journal had the Jesus fish pinned to the side.  Nope, didn’t matter.  The important thing  was scribbling my daily thoughts & journeys into some form of recorded media for… I dunno… someone to someday read and perhaps consider it an entertaining read, at the very least.  At the very most I could only hope to have my words recreated posthumously for a 3-part Lifetime movie starring Dave Matthews as a much less buff version of myself.

Once upon a time, the space between my ears was less of a vacuum, and more of corn feed silo.  I shit you not!  I felt creative all the time, throughout the day, constantly contemplating brilliant endeavors which never seemed to lack in artsy-fartsy zest and unrealistic aspirations.   What happened to that shit?  Where did it go?  It’s fucking sunk in between the couch cushions of this ridiculously shaped sectional couch I’m always planting my ass on, that’s where.  There’s a corn silo between my ears — what do you really expect?

So, now what?  This blog, that’s what.

Looking back over the past 12 months (putting aside the sarcasm for the following 9 words), this year has actually been very good to me.

On one hand I have masturbation… (LOL, couldn’t resist).

On the other hand I have this fabulous roller coaster ride of ups and downs; mandatory to be ridden when “finding oneself” as a middle-aged father of four.  This is the longest I’ve ever been, for lack of a more specific word, “single”, since exiting the womb almost 40 years ago.  In the beginning I was scared to take the plunge back into bachelorhood for fear that I’d lost the skills required to survive without someone to “call my own”, someone to pretzel up with at night, someone with whom you could accidentally fart around and it wouldn’t be a major catastrophe.  On a peculiar side note, in the beginning God also created gigantic illuminating light bulbs to place over your head showcasing when you’ve received a supreme bright idea.  My bright idea throughout 2012 was to dive face first into changing my routine from moping around about how weird it was to be alone, to getting off the couch, getting outside, and getting back on the ol’ camel.  I’m too young to wither away quite yet.  Nobody HAS to have someone in their life to “complete” them, I’ve convinced myself.  If you’ve got a few rock solid friendships, an accepting and loving family, and constantly evolving into the next better generation of the person you want to be, that’s truly the best you can hope for.

I seem to have that most of the time.  Yay Team Me!

So, why can’t I write?  I blame Facebook. By days’ end, I’ve had it up to my receding hairline with typing anything to anyone.  8 hours a day working in social media, the evening in social media, the weekend in social media; a social media virtual garden of freakishly entertaining, and seemingly infinite, ways to communicate with the world.  It’s the realization that there are more like-minded people than you sometimes are able to comprehend, and it’s absolutely OK to feel the way you do because others empathize and flock together with you to share the experiences in a safe, virtual environment.  How do you pull away from that?  We’re tapped in, trapped in, and, in turn, it’s tapping me out.  Type. Type. Type. Tyyyyppppppeeee.  All day long I type.  All night I type.  I’m constantly poking my calloused fingertips onto either a set of keys or a touchscreen phone.  Is there an internet addiction clinic in the house?!  It’s sucking all my blogging abilities through my nose holes and out into oblivion!  Make. It. Stop! LOL

Who are the heck are you talking to, dude?!

YOU, dumbass!

You seriously just ‘LOL’d yourself..?

YES, dumbass!

Oh.  Well goodnight, then…

OK, dumbass!

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