When I was a kid, I was the one that nobody fucked with, and I mean nobody. It wasn't that I was the biggest or the strongest, but the whole school knew that I'd never give up. The crowd around the playground fights would walk away saying "Man, Jack has balls," and they were right, I didn't put up with shit from anyone.
In forth grade, they kicked me out of school for two weeks for a little altercation. This big bully started to tease me about something that I don't remember now, so I jumped over his desk and gave him a black eye. It was all so serious, every one in the school got involved. I had to see a councilor for months to try and control my anger, it probably was looked on so seriously because the bully was my teacher. Well, he should have kept his fucking comments to himself.
After that, the only ones that would pick on me were the new kids that didn't know any better. I would change that in a hurry, they knew when I was finished with them. I think the last fight I was in was in seventh grade, by then everyone knew not to fuck with Jack. I could walk the halls without fear, not even the football players dared to mess with me. That's all I ever wanted, respect. I didn't ever treat anyone badly, I'd never started a fight, but I finished quite a few.
My old man taught me that sometimes you had to fight for what's right, nobody else would do it for you, at least to your satisfaction. To be truly satisfied with the results, you had to see them to the end. If that means you are getting your ass kicked for most of the fight, well, so be it. As long as you are vindicated in the end, the bruises would heal, but if you walked away before the fight was over, you deserved what you got.
I guess that lesson finally worked its way into my thick head, he wasn't only talking about fist fights. He was trying to teach me about life, it's clear now what he meant for me to learn. I saw it as a lesson about physical toughness most of my life, but it wasn't, it had to do with success and failure. He was a pretty smart man now that I look back on it, not bad at all for an old farm boy.
***
Goddamn, I hate these little get togethers in the HR office, they leave me feeling one inch tall. It doesn't matter if he chews on my ass or gives me a hug, I still hate them. Why can't he just walk right up and tell you you're doing a fine job? But no, you have to sit in that fucking chair like a little school boy, while he reads directly off of that stupid ass form. Fuck, I can read, why do we have to go through this silly ritual every six months?
Well, if any of you have had to sit through a performance evaluation, then you know why. If you want that raise you deserve, or that promotion you've been waiting for, you endure the humiliation. You sit there and listen to a guy with less education, tell you where "HE'D" like to see you six months from now.
"That fucking tears it," I thought to myself as I closed the door. I'd gotten exemplary reviews every six months for the last nine years, and I'd gotten the same today. But I was pissed off beyond comprehension, he didn't really say that to me did he? That little baldheaded fuck, how dare he assume that I didn't spend enough time interfacing with the people that worked under me.
They were in my office asking questions of me more than they worked, the other times I was out on the floor solving all of their problems with them.
It's a wonder that I got anything done at all, and I did only because I put in sixty to eighty hours a week. I felt like jamming my review up the little fucker's ass, I didn't mind the extra work, hell, I like my job. But the ungrateful prick, had to write something in the little box to justify his own existence. I'd busted my hump for SMS. As one of the first employees, nobody in the company knows more about this place than me.
Starting as a system engineer, I'd then gone into sales, and now I'm the production manager. We handle a variety of electronics for the medical industry. It's all very specialized, almost all are custom designs.
To get to the point of what I've already told you. I'm in a position to start my own company, with the knowledge, the experience, and the skills, I only lack the dollars. That's a pretty important component, but from my point of view, not the most important. Listening to that slug from human resources today sealed the deal for me. It would take every cent I had, and I'd be in hock up to my eyeballs, but it was something worth fighting for.
Ok, I'm done ranting now. I let things build up inside, I vent a little and after a few deep breaths I'm fine. I might have given you the impression that I'm some crazy walking time bomb. No, not really, just a little exercise I use to clear the stress. I've actually been working towards my own business for about five years.
SMS has been a great place to work, and I'm really going to miss it here. My time here gave me some great opportunities, I had the time while I was in the sales division to earn my Masters degree. The business contacts I've made will prove to be invaluable.
My plan is to resign in about six months, right after I complete my tenth year with SMS. I've talked it over with the headcheese, and I have his blessing. The boss and I go back to the beginning of the company, Steve Styles, is the S in SMS, Styles Micro Systems. He is totally behind me in my decision to go out on my own, especially since I don't plan to compete directly with him. My new company will actually bring a lot of new business to Steve.
Now my wife on the other hand, is not real pleased with my leaving SMS. She has grown quite attached to my six-figure salary. Carrie is quite happy to help the bank keep our balance low enough for more money to fit into our account. It has started to concern me where our marriage is headed, sometimes she makes me feel like a paycheck with a penis attached.
If you're thinking I'm venting again, you've missed it. I'm saddened by the state of our relationship, I hate to see eight good years go to waste. I love Carrie, or at least I did, I don't know any more. She's changed, and I'm not sure when or why. I spend so much time at work these days, it's hard to pinpoint where things went wrong.
We were so in love when we were younger, and then the money came, and with it came the hours and responsibilities. She complains about the hours I keep, and how I don't have time for her. When I offered to cut back, she wouldn't hear of it. She couldn't bear to part with the salary that goes with the added hours.
Some things in my life are crystal clear, and others have become murky like dishwater. While I have the utmost confidence in my ability to succeed with my new business venture, I see my personal life swirling around in circles, you know, like right before it disappears at the bottom of the toilet. Is this what I want? Or am I prepared to fight for Carrie?
That's what my old man would tell me to do, "Fight for it if you want it boy." I suppose, I've grown complacent though, it's been a long time since I've thrown a punch, so to speak. I seem to be at a crossroads. One road will be a long uphill battle to try to save something I'm not sure either of us wants anymore, the other leads to somewhere I've never been before. To walk out, just slip away, end the fight before it ever starts. If I knew that I was battling for the girl that I'd married, I proudly stand chained and naked before satin himself, and spit in his eye with insolence. My heart says, Carrie is not that girl, not anymore.
As I dragged my sorry ass through the door, Carrie informed me, not asked me, that we would be going to dinner at Dirk and Paula's on Saturday. It had been a bitch of a week, and I was looking forward to staying home to lick my wounds, maybe even lick Carrie if the opportunity presented. Not wanting to fight over such a minor thing, I relented.
