I woke up at about noon, tried to go to sleep a bit more until 2, then got up. I did my usual routine, coffee etc., and at 2:30 or so heard a car pull up and a knock on the door. I had a pretty good idea who it was: a guy who bought two transformers and wanted to pick them up.
And it was. He's a chip designer for Samsung who has a side business building tube amps. "It's so funny, I buy this and that for $5 and sell it for $300". Nice Vietnamese guy. He says he has ten employees. We got talking a bit, and I told him how high-tech is a horrible field to go into because it's so low-paid. He said his techs get $25 an hour (yeah so do high school drop-outs who stand around in security guard uniforms but I didn't mention that) and get benefits (again ditto for the guards). He wanted to hire me, and I think he saw the fear flash across my face as I know how horrible it is working for a tech company.
I said I'd known Ken for 9 years before going to work for him so let's have it so if I know him for 9 years and we're friends, then maybe I'll go work for him. I'll be almost my maximum Social Security age so I can work for him 1-2 years (I didn't mention I'll also bust my ass to unionize his shop).
I told him I do far better than high tech, by playing trumpet. I want to attain some level of mastery, then write books about how I got there because the things I am learning are not in any of the books. And also to come up with a line of high-quality brass instrument cleaning tools because even with really nice trumpets costing thousands, everyone's using the same cheapo cleaning tools that are generally awful. That I have ideas for a line of tools, taken from aspects of a few different ones I've used.
This seemed to gain some respect, as I guess guys like that respect "entrepreneurship" (blecch) and also that maybe I'd not be an "ideal" (simpering, sniveling, etc.) employee after all. In any case, this guy sounds like me might keep buying parts from us he can use in tube amps and just coming by to pick them up.
I was able to pack 10 or 11 things, including one large thing, and was out the door with my bike trailer loaded at 5. I went up and did my drop offs, picked up a bunch of celery behind H Mart, then rode over to this business park that's by the railroad tracks where I'd seen a lady taking a break or having her lunch on the grass beneath the trees, so I rode in there and set up with some Parmesan cheese rind and had a little refreshment. I didn't want to get super hungry like I did last time and end up spending big money for a snack, so this was my plan to avoid this, and while I didn't get super hungry, I was feeling tired and it was a great little break.
This place, called Lumentum I think, has this sort of egg-shaped robot that wanders, slowly, around the parking lot. I call him Mr. Eggo. He came around but stayed next to the building, far from me. I finished up and rode out, leaving the place eggs-actly how I'd found it.
I rode my usual route, finding packing materials and a big sheet of phenolic Ken might want, and got back here. Since I'd had the cheese, I didn't feel like eating anything here, unloaded the trailer and put it away, and headed back out for some shopping at H Mart.
I went back over there and it was un-crowded enough that I could park my bike in the bike rack, but wow it was crowded inside. I need to choose a different day to go there than Friday. I got what I was after, white lightning, shallots, Yakult, etc., and rode back here. As I'd pulled up, I was glad I kept my "tunker" stick in hand, because some scumsucker who may have been the guy who hassled me, rode through here fairly fast. "Just keep moving, dirtball" I grumbled, tapping the stick on my hand. He did.
I locked up and had hard boiled eggs, kamaboko, and 2 oz. pistachio nuts, and one of those cheapish Hawaiian beers, and and just relaxed. Probably too much because I heard a sound outside and looked at the video from the cameras and a scumsucker had gone running by and it's 1AM. The weirdest shit goes on around here. Earlier, Crazy Chrissie had been in front of here, messing around with a water hose and her POS car. It's still mottled patches of primer grey. In fact, if a car could be addicted to meth, I think it would look just like Crazy Chrissie's car. It would be patchy and dull and grey, and it would run like shit, just like Crazy Chrissie has to warm the thing up for 15 minutes to drive it the 125 yards to her parking place on Rogers Avenue in front of the cement plant.
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