Go Fund Me -- If You Want

I don't accept help well, and I don't know why.  It's not a "don't show weakness" thing as I routinely list all the things I do wrong.  My pride and ego live in a tiny shoe box located in the  upstairs closet, so I know they don't get in the way.  I guess I could blame the ingrained stubbornness of American ingenuity, but that seems way too philosophical.  I just have trouble with help.

For instance, I could be hauling a player piano up 30 flights of stairs in 105 degree heat.  Each step pulls my back further out of alignment, resulting in excruciating pain, and I'm pretty sure I just tore my ACL.  On the third flight, a professional piano mover comes up and lets me know that they'll take this behemoth the rest of the way up -- free of charge.  I still would say, "No, that's ok, I go this," while mentally highlighting who gets my Bugs Bunny baseball picture in the will.

So when a Friend of the Blog suggested that I run a crowdfunding campaign to "elevate and promote" my writing, I initially blew a mental raspberry.  I calculated the numbers, and with web hosting fees, writing conferences to meet agents and publishers, and the mandatory self promotion, I would need around $2,000 to make a go of it.  Asking friends, family and strangers for $2,000 made me severely queasy. Like I just drank Christmas eggnog in July queasy.

Then, as I dug through my old Yahoo! archives trying to find an old Interpersonal Communication syllabus, I found an email from 2007.  When I served as the executive director of a non-profit college access center, I apparently replied to a board member who showed hesitancy in asking for donations.  I wrote:

... I always have trouble seeing donations as means for programming.  Instead I see them as investments in family, friends and neighbors.  As sparks of encouragement that can change lives.  After all, the world is a better place when dreams can come true...

Hating that my own words that contradicted a very eloquent raspberry, and after a scientifically inaccurate Facebook poll, I have started a Go Fund Me page (www.gofundme.com/JackGrubb).  The goal is set at an uncomfortable $2,000, which I understand asks a lot.  I did set some reward levels, so I can justify this work as transactional.  Also, I really want to write a bunch of fake doctor's notes for some fictitious maladies.

What Funds Will Fund
Here's a breakdown of the cost to begin a real writing career:

• Hosted website with custom domain: $144/year
• Custom email: $60/year
• Indianapolis writing conference (w/agent audit): $276
• Writing classes (x3): $525
• Personal writing/publishing coach through Carnegie Center (Highly suggested): $540
• Shameless self promotion through social media: $600

Total: $2,145

Thank You in Advance

If you feel moved to contribute to the Go Fund Me Campaign (www.gofundme.com/JackGrubb), let this be the first of a thousands of thanks.  I will not let you down -- or maybe I will.  I'm not too sure of your disappointment threshold.

If you don't feel the mojo, that's ok.  I'm glad you made it down to the bottom of the article and hope you come back.  Losing the Internets will always be here and will always be subjectively funny.  Just do me a favor, and share the blog on Facebook.  Unless you don't want to.    

   

Be a billionaire by answering a math question

Not much to talk about this week regarding my health.  Thyroid came out -- stitches came out -- and I feel fantastic!  Like I was 25 again.  Except I have two kids, rising costs, 1/2 the income and a car that may need a new battery -- so maybe like I am still 41.  But a 41 that can stay awake past 9:00 PM EST.

As I spent time recuperating, all I heard about was Bitcoin.

That's a lie.  I also heard about Matt Lauer, Al Franken, Roy Moore, Garrison Keeler, North Korea, Net Neutrality, Jerusalem, opioids, and Disney buying Fox.  All I choose to acknowledge, though, is Bitcoin.

Why, you may or may not ask?  Well, if you're still reading, I'll tell you.

At this writing, Bitcoin is trading at $2,163,854 per something.  Evidently, people can get rich selling a made-up currency (which smart people call cryptocurrency).  I'm told you can buy real things with Bitcoin, as real companies like Kelly's Pizza, Bloomberg.com, and Subway let you pay with 1's and 0's.  That's an expensive 6-inch meatball marinara if a coin is worth $2,163,845.

Or is that sub worth $1,673, as that is what Bitcoin is trading at in this paragraph -- the part where I try and explain what Bitcoin is.  I mean to the three uncool people who don't understand Bitcoin, because it is super easy to get.  Like how most people can easily assemble an Ikea entertainment center.  Unfortunately, you can't buy that entertainment center with Bitcoin.

According to Gizmodo, where I get most of my financial advice, here's what I know about Bitcoin:

Bitcoin was started by somebody, probably
In 2009, Satoshi Nakamoto had a dream to start a currency that doesn't need the irrational scrutiny of the banking industry.  Or to be more precise, the person behind the pseudonym Satoshi Nakamoto had the dream, because Satoshi Nakamoto doesn't actually exist.  Nobody actually knows who's behind Satoshi Nakamoto.  It could be Californian computer scientist Hal Finney, Australian businessman Craig Wright, or that basement-dweller who Trump believed hacked the DNC servers.

In 1994, my parents wouldn't let me see a Spin Doctor's concert at Alpine Creek because I didn't know the name of my friend's friend who would have drove.  I don't know if I can trust a made-up currency that very well could have started by that friend's friend -- who was truly a HUGE stoner.

You can "mine" bitcoin if you answer math questions
When I asked an expert about how Bitcoin is made, he talked about blockchain and cryptocurrencies and digital gold, but he did it in such a condescending way that I just nodded my head and played along.  But what I did get from the bus station attendant is that you can acquire a Bitcoin by answering some math questions.  I don't know exactly how or the complexity of the problems -- because that would take research -- but I did find a video that explained to me that I need a super-fast, super-expensive computer that will do the math for me.

I trust this guy knows what he is saying because he knows the name of at least three computer thingies and he wears an Eminem shirt.  As we all know Eminem is the rapper of cryptocurrency.   

All I really know is that neither my brain or my computer can do the complex computations or we will explode.  Since I'm generally against exploding, no Bitcoin for me.  And how do we know that Satoshi Nakamoto is not just some Harvard professor who got a grant to solve time travel and realized, "Damn, I don't know math.  Let's give out imaginary treats to other people to do the work for me."  I respect that.

Bitcoin is backed by Bitcoin

The main difference between real money and cryptocurrency is that no government or financial institution backs it.  It's peer-to-peer (or the trendy P2P), meaning that transactions go directly from one dude to the other anonymously.  The value of the Bitcoin, then, is determined by the people believing it has value, and that there are only a finite quantity (21 million, I believe). 

To me, that makes it more of a collectable, like Beanie Babies.  For a while, a Beanie Babies were worth up to $76,000 because everybody wanted one.  But after a while we woke up a remembered that they were only poorly made beanbags with eyes, and now you give them out at Halloween because you ran out of fun size Three Musketeers.  One day we may all wake up and think that invisible money is stupid, but until then nobody is going to spend Bitcoin on a Sweet Teriyaki Chicken because we think they are investment pieces.

There's a lot more about Bitcoin, but I kinda spaced out about now.  It could be the space currency of the future, but it also could be the next version of Lenny Lobster.  But what do I know.  My entire view on economics is based on a Duck Tails episode where Scrooge McDuck exposes a civilization to a currency, then ruins that same civilization through hyperinflation. 

Take a look -- it's a "duck blur."

    

Cheering Up the Unemployed

I haven't written in a crap ton (metric weight) amount of time. Why?

Lots of work, lots of travel, lots of kids, lots of moving, lots of Doritos, lots of 2016 World Series celebrating, little of time.

And now?

Nothing.

We all know the age-old story: Boy meets company.  Boy loves company.  Boy brings niche food product to national prominence.  Boy meets FDA.   Boy gets hit on head with proverbial cartoon mallet.  Boy loses company.  Boy feels weight of unemployment crushing his lower pelvis region.  Boy writes on long forgotten blog.

If you want to know the whole story, click here.  (By the way, I wrote the Press Release.)

I've been unemployed before, but I can only describe this stint as soul-shattering.  I lost a family business.  Working with my father has transformed my life in a profound way.  Our daily interactions and the bond we created over peanut-free peanut butter has made me a better son, father and husband.  I resisted the business for so long, like working for Dad meant I couldn't hack it on my own.  Now I only wish I started the day I left my college campus.

But as they say, when God closes a door, He just may piss on you from the upstairs window.  This window just happens to be in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains, land of opportunity for a marketing specialist who specializes in niche companies.  Not to mention that most of the places -- eight in total --  I have worked before no longer exist.  I essentially have an out-of-place resume built on ghosts.

So, I look for my friends for support.  Most do well and try to hook me up with job opportunities or empathy.  I appreciate that from the bottom of my heart.  This lost hit hard, as I feel that I let down my wife, my kids and myself.  It wasn't my fault, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop this predicament.  I need proactive love from love ones, because I know I won't seek it out.  I've got job hunting to do.

Some people, however, can stay silent.  I know they mean well, but just like a funeral, some people just don't know what to say.  There are certain phrases that should not be said, basically because they act as daggers made of ice piercing the heart and melting while I slowly bleed out.  Or like watching a twelve hour marathon of Shaquille O'Neal movies.  Whichever is worse.  So don't say these -- unless you are an a-hole.  Then go ahead.

Everything happens for a reason.
My life--and the lives of everyone who used to work at the company, the co-packer, and the people who got seriously ill--went totally sideways for some sort of cosmic plan?  That's like ripping out my right eye so my daughter can meet the doctor's 7-year old son, who she will marry sixteen years later.  I'm not sure God commands such a Rube Goldberg universe.

You'll have so much more time for your family.
a.) I have much more time to slowly sink my family into financial ruin.  b.) I'm pretty sure my family would rather have me at work.  I'm much better in small quantities.

You'll be fine.
This is what you tell a person who was bitten by a zombie and is just about to be shot in the head unless they turn.  It's something you tell a small child who is scared to slide down the "tall slide."  It's what you tell someone when they have to drink something that is hopefully an anecdote.  Not what you tell someone who is struggling to pay their bills.

Have you tried...
Usually these suggestions are so benign or outlandish that the suggestion is worthless.  There is no middle ground.  It's either "Have you tried updating your resume?" or "Have you tried selling blood to a hungry vampire?"  The only reason that this should be said is if it is solicited.  If you don't hear, "What can I do?" don't give suggestions.

HERE IS WHAT YOU SHOULD SAY

That really sucks.

or

Are you OK?

or (hopefully)

Here is someone I can introduce you to who can help you get a job.

That's it.  Nothing more. 

This article has been a PSA sponsored by Cashwise Payday Loans.

Uncomfortably old

As a plucky, young sophomore in high school, my friends and I practically begged our theater director to let our school perform the stage production of Grease for our spring musical.   It all seemed like a good idea.  After all, a play about high schoolers in the late 1950's fits a high school play perfectly.  The characters are relatable, the songs are catchy, and we could wear leather jackets and jeans.  All in all, Grease kicks Oklahoma's ass.

Our crusty director never let us perform Grease, citing that it was too risque for a bunch of kids to perform.  He asserted that the language and theme would make parents and grandparents uncomfortable.  We retorted that any movie that starred Olivia Newton John cannot be that bad.  She sang songs about summer love and exercise.  Why would Olivia Netwon John put her name on anything inappropriate for high school kids?  With the way they talked about Grease, you would have thought that it's all about sex.

That's because Grease is all about sex.  I know this because I just sat through a rather uncomfortable high school rendition of the play.  It started making me squeemish when a bunch of teenagers started singing about screwing in the sand.  My stomach clenched a bit after Grease Lightning made chicks cream.  And my soul died a bit when I witnessed my nephew honking some girl's adolescent knockers.  Now I know why Mr. Baird made our class stick to playing ruthless, singing gangsters instead of horny teenagers.

For those who never seen the play or the much tamer movie, let me give you a little snippet of a song without all the alluring music:

We'll get some overhead lifters, and four barrel quads, oh yeah
Keep talkin', whoah keep talkin'
Fuel injection cut off, and chrome plated rods, oh yeah
I'll get the money, I'll see you get the money
With a four-speed on the floor, they'll be waitin' at the door
You know that ain't shit when we'll be gettin' lots of tit in greased lightnin'

Chorus:
Go, greased lightnin', you're burnin' up the quarter mile
Greased lightnin', go greased lightnin'
Go, greased lightnin', you're coastin' through the heat lap trials
Greased lightnin', go greased lightnin'
You are supreme, the chicks'll cream for greased lightnin'

We'll get some purple French tail lights and thirty-inch fins, oh yeah
A palomino dashboard and duel muffler twins, oh yeah
With new pistons, plugs, and shocks, I can get off my rocks
You know that I ain't braggin', she's a real pussy wagon - greased lightnin'

I seem to recall watching Grease at nine years old.  My sister watched it so much by the time she turned 13 that we had to buy a new VHS tape.  Perhaps I was distracted by the Hand Jive and all that leather, but the idea that every single scene revolved around sex never entered my fragile little mind.  The only thing that really bothered me was that Sandy felt like she had to change and start smoking in order to get her man.  And that the car flew at the end.  Perhaps these teens putting on the play are as clueless as I was at that age.

But there's a difference between watching and acting.  With acting you need to digest the lines and derive meaning.  When you're watching a play you might gloss over lines about how "horny" the characters say they are, but when you rehearse the lines over and over, you can't miss what's going on.  Even for the audience it's different.  There's a bigger separation from reality when watching 30-somethings pretending to be teenagers on screen and watching actual teenagers on stage, especially in close proximity of parents and grandparents.

And the worse part...the kids acted superbly.  They sang fluidly, acted believably, and looked like they were having fun every step of the way.  I don't know how a northern suburb of Indianapolis amasses such talent, but they really knocked it right out of the park.  The kid who played Sonny might even make it big!

Anyways, I'm probably being a big prude.  No one else seemed uncomfortable as the crowd erupted in a huge ovation at the end of the song about how Rizzo would rather be pregnant than a tease.  Perhaps I'll just have to accept that sex and teenagers go hand in hand, or that today's youth have absolutely no clue as to what's going on.

Besides I'm kinda looking forward to their next performance--I hear good things about The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Working for ghosts

I know, I know.  It's been a while since I had time to sit and write on Losing the Internets, frustrating my fan to no end.  I missed it too.  The writing; the lack of response; the endless criticism from my editor of my grammer and speling.  (Don't worry Queen, I misspelled those words on purpose for comedy's sake.  I know that grammer is really spelled with a o.)

The reason for my absence is that I've been busy with work.  In the last month, I created a database of over 5,000 grocery stores where I had to look each one up individually, and that takes an extraordinary amount of time banging away at a computer.  On top if that I had two conventions where I acted as a knowledgeable exhibitor and a 100-foot sandwich to promote.  By the time I have a chance to write, I'm so sick of the computer that I mostly just close my eyes and dream of bunnies.  Horrible, horrible bunnies.

Not that I'm complaining.  If there is one thing I really like, it's working.  And after I stepped down from being an unpaid Executive Director at a local non-profit, constant work has been spotty at best.  I have a few clients that I help with their social media outlets, but after the platforms are built, it's just a matter of keeping them updated.  That's enjoyable, but not always at the constant, unrelenting pace that I like.  I guess I could clean the house and teach the Princess some morals, but the house will just get dirty again and Princess keeps threatening to move out, get her navel pierced, and join an unregulated, underground circus specializing in monkey acrobats.

While I welcome this spike of activity, and anticipate it will continue to spike until August, I'm looking for a more constant state of employment.  I especially am targeting one organization in particular, even though I have a better shot at creating a cat out of spare hair found in couch cushions than landing an interview.  At least I probably won't get one by going through the traditional online portal.   

The problem: Five of my past jobs have been with companies that no longer exist.  Any HR director will tell you that having multiple positions in theoretical companies can hamper your employment opportunities because there isn't any way to corroborate that you actually worked there.  Having five on the resume isn't just a red flag, it's a red tapestry that covers the entire North wall -- the tallest of all the walls.

Here's what I'm talking about.  The names of the companies will be held private (but if you're curious, just look at my LinkedIn profile).

• Job #1--Insurance advertising copywriter: Company merged with another local company and assumed their name.  The merged company was bought by a national conglomerate which renamed the entity again.  For the two phone numbers listed, one is disconnected and the other is for a Kosher deli.
• Job #2 --Insurance advertising copywriter: Company decides to keep two sets of financial books, which as it turns out, is illegal.  Company folds and is broken up into different subsidiaries that all have different names.  Building I used to work at is now home to a college preparatory school.
• Job #3--Middle School/high school teacher:  Private school closed down for various non-criminal reasons.  The website is still up if you want to enroll for the 2008-2009 school year.
• Job #4--Middle School/high school teacher:  School shut down because of various non-academic scandals.  Their story becomes more sordid and unbelievable the more I read about it.
• Job #5--Non-profit executive director: Don't start a non-profit during the worst recession since the Great Depression.  After grant money dried up, board didn't want to restart under new leadership.

I've been told that I'm the type of employee that sees his work as an extension of his life.  That no task is too large or too small to undertake.  I work hard and smart, and bring unbridled creativity and heart to the workplace.  Unfortunately, these organizations couldn't stick around, making me look like a confidence man trying to shake down old ladies for their Social Security checks.

Now, before this devolves into a pity party (one that serves pathetic punch and hopeless hors d'oeuvres), I understand this isn't the end of the world.  It isn't even the end of the city block.  I just now understand why it may be impossible to go the traditional wait and see route and find more unconventional in-roads to my dream job.  And if I never get there, so what.  I have a lovely wife, a great kid, a somewhat ok dog, and glitter all over my couch.

What more can a guy want.

The passion economy

Between eating my morning bowl of cereal and pouring my first cup of coffee, I flipped on the TV to Morning Joe.  The featured guest sitting at the table happened to be some economist from some magazine who had the solution to this nation's economic woes.  It turns out that there are millions of unfilled "blue collar" jobs, like manufacturing or plumbing, that could be filled if we could steer young people to them. Unfortunately, we keep directing people to college, telling them that's the only way to get ahead in the world.

These points made sense, except that just yesterday Joe and Mika interviewed some economist from some magazine that had a different solution to this nation's economic woes.  It turns out that there are millions of unfilled "white collar" jobs, like accounting and engineering, that could be filled if we could steer young people to them.  Unfortunately, we keep saddling people with low expectations, not realizing that those with college degrees make $1 million more in a lifetime than those without college degrees.

These points also made sense, and I became confused.  How can both going to college and not going to college be the right call?  What should our teenagers do so that they can fill the jobs that employers need filled?  Where should I position my daughter so she can be most successful?  We need to direct the young somewhere, but which which path are they destined to follow?

Of course the biggest problem with both economists' solutions is that they left out the most important variable in the equation.  With over 40 minutes of air time combined, and not one person mentioned asking these high schoolers where they wanted to go.  By following the conversations, it almost seemed that as long as we could agree with an economic ideology, we could just place our young into the career paths that fits society's needs.  After all, they're just cogs in our machines. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" used to be such a basic question of childhood.  I remember being asked this since I was six or seven, giving different answers during different developmental years.  For a while I wanted to be a baseball player even though I couldn't catch a ball.  Then I grew into computer programming, then writing, then film and television.  Eventually I settled in communications, which is rather abstract field that embodies everything that I was truly interested in (except baseball).  And while it hasn't been the easiest path to prosperity, I'm now doing a job that I'm excel at and that I love.

However, I grew up in the empowerment age of the 80's and 90's when hippies were having kids.  Nowadays we're in an economic slump, and time's are tough.  It's a cold, cruel world where student loans and minimum wage both rage out of control.  We have a skills gap and an education crisis to deal with, plus an income disparity that you can drive a Mack Truck through.  We need to tell kids what to do, not listen to what they want.

Except have you ever seen a successful person who hates what they do?  Do you think Mark Zuckerberg gets up every morning and says "F*&#@$g social media!"?  Does Stephen Hawking complain to everyone he meets about the awesome power of the universe?  No, they like what they do, and then do it to the best of their ability.  Then they get up the next morning and do it again.

That goes for us "normals," too.  About two weeks after we first bought our refrigerator, it decided to stop working.  After a quick two-hour call to Sears, they sent out a repair guy to see what was wrong.  This guy that arrived spent about ten minutes diagnosing the problem, two minutes mending the appliance, and twenty minutes showing me how to fix it myself if the problem ever happened again.  It turns out that he's been a repair guy for 23 years, and he loves it.  In fact, he turned down a job managing the service shop because he'd "rather fix stuff and not fix people."

We all have friends like that who get jazzed about HVAC systems, or architecture, or marketing, or whatever.  I know my insurance agent is entirely too wound up about annuities, but that's what makes him a great insurance agent.  Perhaps we help our rising workforce focus on this mindset instead of trying to fit people into an economic mold.  I know employers needs are important, but I believe that they'll still be met while we cultivate some natural passions.

So call it a knowledge economy or a skills economy, I don't really care.  I much rather live in the passion economy.  I know about 80 million people under 21 probably would, too.