Friday, January 25, 2013

A defeated man is a powerful man


There are times in a man's life when he's been debased so low that he has been defeated. It doesn't happen often to your average Joe, and it's a sad sight when it does. At this point, the man no longer gets mad at what happens to him; getting mad would imply he's still got a fighting chance. But in his defeated state, he sits in a stoop of bewilderment, wondering what went wrong and how he could have made some simple choices earlier in his life that would have led him to greener pastures. This man was me yesterday...

I pride myself on not losing my cell phone or keys every time I leave or enter the house. There are some people that just can't seem to keep a grip on those slippery little objects. Locking myself out of the house doesn't happen often and is a really unexpected and unanticipated event. So yesterday morning when I found myself in my pajamas and a hand full of junk mail at a front door that didn't mind opening when I left the house but currently had no intention of letting me in and a pot of 10 grain cereal cooking on the stove on the other side of that door, I quickly followed the natural stages of patheticness: denial, anger, depression, seclusion, isolation, and finally defeat. I was cold and wanted in, and I really didn't want to burn down my house with my 10 grain cereal (a healthy breakfast choice, I may add. One serving contains 40% of your daily recommended value of fiber and many other essential vitamins and minerals. I eat a bowl every morning to keep me healthy, strong, and regular), so I asked some passerby neighbors for help. The girl that lives directly above me was just super ditsy, laughed uncomfortable at the thought of helping me, and suggested breaking my window on the front door to get in. Then she was off. Not seeing any other viable options, I found a snow shovel and took it to the window in 2 of the angriest attempts I've ever given at breaking a window. The window won, and the shovel almost broke. Wasn't made in the USA, can tell you that much... After a couple more neighbors gave me their deepest and most sincere apologies for not wanting to help, one neighbor that had just gotten home from getting in a car accident with her 3 year old and 2 month old kids was really nice and helped me. She got the number to a lock smith and called them for me and let me hang out in her home while I waited. It was really nice.

After a couple minutes of cartoon watching with the 3 year old, I made my way back to my front door to wait for the locksmith. He got there at least 20 minutes after his original 30 minute estimate, and he didn't even know how to open a door. After arriving, he immediately called a friend who walked him step by step through the art of wedging a crow bar in a door and prying it open. It took him a good 15 or 20 minutes to get the door to cooperate, so it was about an hour and a half since I had been locked out, and upon opening the door, a wall of smoke greeted me as I ran in to take my cereal off the stove. Looking into a pot of molten lava cereal, I put water in it, opened up the windows, and tried fanning out the house. Upon doing so, the locksmith informed me that his expertise in door opening would cost me $160. I told him that that was ridiculous and that I couldn't pay it. He insisted and assured that he wasn't leaving until I paid in full. Seeing as he had proven that he could indeed, with great difficulty, open locked doors, and he knew where I lived, I tried to bargain with him.

It was at this moment where I sunk to the deepest levels of defeat and resorted to my animal instinct of survival at whatever cost. This is what happens when a bum fights someone else, especially another bum. They have nothing to lose if they do lose, and they will gnaw your arm off before they let go of the dream. This was me. While the man was demanding money, I sat down at my computer, pulled up my bank account, and showed him my bank statements, revealing an impressive $166 in my combined checking and savings accounts. He wanted to take all but 6 of my dollars. After having him kneel down next to me and look at my bank accounts, I then resorted to the lowest, dirtiest, most cliche form of begging: pictures of my children. Except my child isn't even born yet, so I showed him pictures of the ultrasound that Rachel got on Wednesday of our baby (we found out we're having a boy!) to soften his heart. I believe it was at this moment that the man saw that I had been completely backed into a corner and my next move was to bite, and he caved a little. Just a little. He charged me $120. Reluctantly, I handed over the greater share of my life's savings to this man as he left me alone in a smoke-ridden home. But it was warm...

As I write this, dear readers, all the windows in my house and the front door are completely open. It is 30 degrees outside, and I have 3 fans blowing to air out the place. But although I was defeated yesterday, today I rose from the ashes a new man, a changed man, a richer man. Well, no, a poorer man, but a hardened man. I know now that I have no shame to lose, and that, my friends, gives me great power...

I like that picture up top. It's Garrett giving us a stylish 5-0 180 out down a long and mellow hubba, my favorite...

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