What A Good Company Does

Chapter 12.

Convincing People

Damn electricity. I forget every year how often it goes in the summer months. And for how long. And also how UNEXPECTEDLY when you're down to the final part of AMERICA's NEXT TOP MODEL and JANE bites the bullet but you don't get to see her cry like a little bitch (which is pretty much the only reason I like watching the show) because KESC has stopped doing its job again. I've got something called a UPS at home. It's supposed to keep providing electricity for a few hours in the event of a power outage (something that's as strange an occurance to the Americans as a kind government employee is to Pakistani's) and it should be able to supply your ass with a fan and perhaps some lights and a little t.v for the duration of the blackout. The problem is, it doesn't. This device is a box about the size of a car battery, containing about the same amount of reserved power as well. It has wires coming out of it that would dupe a damn professional, and a big button saying ON for the dummies that will be using it considering any smart person would'nt invest in one of these to begin with.

So I'm trying for a radio job, right? I haven't even reached the office before this starts seeming like a BAAAADD idea. It was over 200 degrees that day. In the SHADE. I saw a man get out of the car and he screamed from the heat before exploding into millions of pieces. Not that I sat and counted. The interview went alright. I walked out with five little tasks. To be completed by 48 HOURS! I'm not even working there and already they've got me worried about deadlines. That's what a good company does, they tell me. It makes you want to go back to college and rethink your pointless existence.

But fuck that. I'm going into comics. See I've been drawing a daily comic strip concept for a while now. Nothing super, just something I do more for myself than anything else really. But atleast I enjoy it. I'm gonna look into how to contact the newspaper heads and see what the market is for something like that. All of this stuff makes me think about the past you know. The one none of us has seen. Not YET anyway. And how it must have been so easy to exist in a world where your entire community only had like 2000 people in it. Makes me wonder how the cartoonists back then would have had it so much easier convincing people they're special since there was probably next to zero competition around. Of course, that comes at the price of a next to nothing MARKET for cartoons....seeing as paper wasn't readily available and neither was the concept of money.

OR ink.

I'm going. I haven't saved this draft and I don't want to lose it all. Not to mention wanting to watch tv where that Melrose chick has just won YET another round of AMERICAS NEXT TOP MODEL and that chubby Anchal might get the boot, being told she's not showing how badly she wants it, whereas we all know its because she's part Indian and Tyra Banks thinks it's part of their custom to eat black people.