What started as an idea for one post has really taken off. It's bringing
back a lot of memories, and I'm rolling with it. But I do have a small
concern... I haven't seen or heard a comment or any feedback from anybody in
quite a while, and my numbers are down. Is anybody reading this stuff anymore?
I wonder if the subject matter has become boring or perhaps redundant. I don't
seek constant approval, but it would be nice to know if anybody's still out
there.
So, where was I? Ahhh yes, the gas station. I was let go by an employee, not the boss, because too many drive-offs were occurring on my shifts. "How could that be my fault!" I'm sure I declared. Well, it certainly was, as nearly every gas theft report was forged by yours truly (me). So off I went.
It was around that time that I was arrested for my first felony, and kicked out of the home I was living in. This is also around the time I started drinking instinctively, and had my first run-in with crack and cocaine. Needless to say, my jobs were few and far in-between for a while. I did briefly work at an Applebee’s where I never stole anything, and quit because I hated working there. I then served as a sales clerk at a Mervin’s California where I was fired for stealing, and an Office Max where I was caught red-handed stealing but never fired. I was in the warehouse there the day Gary Anderson shanked the field goal against the Atlanta Falcons in the playoffs. I left that job to move to Richfield with my girlfriend, where I was hired as a full time employee of the Sherwin-Williams Company. I sold paint as you might imagine, and I did custom color matches which I happened to be very good at. I also forged returns, took paint and supplies out the back door, and even broke in once by driving drunk through the plate-glass front doors in hopes of going inside and stealing a paint sprayer. It didn’t happen, I was too drunk to get my seatbelt off so I simply backed up and drove back down Penn Avenue to my apartment where I probably drank more and floundered in self misery. I was a mess. They did finally catch on to my shenanigans and I was terminated for lying about my felony on my application. Again, they couldn’t actually pin anything on me, so they fired me on a technicality. Shortly after that I was arrested for attempting to burn that apartment down.
For a while I was jobless. Penniless. Homeless. All but lifeless. I went to treatment again. It failed again. I don’t have any clue how long I was lost. I do know that when I resurfaced, I was ready to give treatment a real effort, and that I did.
I went to Hazelden for four months and moved to Florida as part of my aftercare program. I can tell you that for the next four years, I did not steal a thing from anybody, anywhere. I did get fired from The Boulevard restaurant on A1A in West Palm beach for a catering mishap that was not in any way my fault. They needed a head to roll, and it was mine. I quickly applied for a job with Divosta Homes, and spent the next seven months assembling cabinets in an oppressive warehouse. I actually kind of liked it, and the plan was to work there for a while once I went back home to clear up my warrants. But that would never happen. I had to stay in Minnesota, where I got a job with a company that seemed right up my alley. A place where I would spend a lot of time, in a way, giving back what I had so freely taken for so many years. A job that I was so committed to, I moved to Rochester from St. Paul, where I ended up relapsing and going down yet another spiral of disaster. What job? You’ll just have to wait until the next post.
So, where was I? Ahhh yes, the gas station. I was let go by an employee, not the boss, because too many drive-offs were occurring on my shifts. "How could that be my fault!" I'm sure I declared. Well, it certainly was, as nearly every gas theft report was forged by yours truly (me). So off I went.
It was around that time that I was arrested for my first felony, and kicked out of the home I was living in. This is also around the time I started drinking instinctively, and had my first run-in with crack and cocaine. Needless to say, my jobs were few and far in-between for a while. I did briefly work at an Applebee’s where I never stole anything, and quit because I hated working there. I then served as a sales clerk at a Mervin’s California where I was fired for stealing, and an Office Max where I was caught red-handed stealing but never fired. I was in the warehouse there the day Gary Anderson shanked the field goal against the Atlanta Falcons in the playoffs. I left that job to move to Richfield with my girlfriend, where I was hired as a full time employee of the Sherwin-Williams Company. I sold paint as you might imagine, and I did custom color matches which I happened to be very good at. I also forged returns, took paint and supplies out the back door, and even broke in once by driving drunk through the plate-glass front doors in hopes of going inside and stealing a paint sprayer. It didn’t happen, I was too drunk to get my seatbelt off so I simply backed up and drove back down Penn Avenue to my apartment where I probably drank more and floundered in self misery. I was a mess. They did finally catch on to my shenanigans and I was terminated for lying about my felony on my application. Again, they couldn’t actually pin anything on me, so they fired me on a technicality. Shortly after that I was arrested for attempting to burn that apartment down.
For a while I was jobless. Penniless. Homeless. All but lifeless. I went to treatment again. It failed again. I don’t have any clue how long I was lost. I do know that when I resurfaced, I was ready to give treatment a real effort, and that I did.
I went to Hazelden for four months and moved to Florida as part of my aftercare program. I can tell you that for the next four years, I did not steal a thing from anybody, anywhere. I did get fired from The Boulevard restaurant on A1A in West Palm beach for a catering mishap that was not in any way my fault. They needed a head to roll, and it was mine. I quickly applied for a job with Divosta Homes, and spent the next seven months assembling cabinets in an oppressive warehouse. I actually kind of liked it, and the plan was to work there for a while once I went back home to clear up my warrants. But that would never happen. I had to stay in Minnesota, where I got a job with a company that seemed right up my alley. A place where I would spend a lot of time, in a way, giving back what I had so freely taken for so many years. A job that I was so committed to, I moved to Rochester from St. Paul, where I ended up relapsing and going down yet another spiral of disaster. What job? You’ll just have to wait until the next post.
