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Money Vampire before/after I broke down and got a cell-phone. I must be the only jackass I know that actually pays for their own cell phone coverage. Everyone I talk to says the same thing. "How much do you pay for your coverage?" "I dont know...[fill in the blank] pays for it." I feel like such a consumeristic whore. My rationale was to put the number on the resume', and, as such, have continual access to such propositions. I think I will have a bunch of opportunities in the next 12 mos. Im probably deluded about how many calls I can and will receive, from prospective employers, friends, families and otherwise. However, I always do seem to have a few trailing sketchy randoms that want my number. Now I can give it to them, feeling relatively safe. Except the verizon homepage lets you look up numbers and addresses at the same time. Interestingly enough, Im likely the only neurotic freak I know that would check to see if such a thing was available. Now I will have to call tons of people just to justify having the fucker, and my psychic balance in regards to the phone will shift from, "Hey, man, how come you haven't called me in forever," to "Dude, you have GOT to STOP calling me. FUCK! " Addendum: In my continual quest to strut balls as big as church bells, I went back to the verizon store wherein I got my original phone eons ago. One of those nasty old bag motherfuckers. Anyway, I moved to denver, and tried to get my number and/or service ported to the area. They agreed to transfer my account, but not my number. To which I said, "fine". However, when I moved out to said area, such service was not forth-coming. I tried unsuccessfully to get cell service and was shuttled from shop to shop. Eventually I gave up and stopped paying the bill. If they were not going to keep up their end of the contract, then neither was I. Fuck them. And verizon went on to trash my credit rating repeatedly. Over and over I would get slips of paper in the mail threatening me with this action, followed up by another slip from the credit bureau saying they had done it again. I gave the finger to the settlement papers that arrived that agreed to settle the bill for 3/4 of the original amount. Again, I flipped the bird to the papers. I was really stoned at the time. It seemed like the thing to do. Indeed, fuck the man. Alexander Graham Bell was out to fuck us all, and in the end, he did. Now, years later, I put on a suit to go confront the demons of the negligent high-on past, tail between my legs, begging for cell phone service. I acumulated a lot of anxiety about going into the store and being rejected on basis of credit. "Oh, and, by the way, Mr. Argentum, you OWE us EIGHTY DOLLARS YOU PRICK. And fuck you, your application has been denied." Which would be like egg on the face in front of a busy room of strangers I didnt really care about anyway. Still, I didnt like it, but I didnt like the anxiety even more. So that had me donning a nice suit to give me whatever confidence it could to persuasively navigate the canals of distrust between me and verizon. "Ah yes, I am a delinquent bastard, and we didnt get along well at the time, but I was always so STONED. And besides, how can you say no to a man in a suit?" When it came time for the check, nobody gave a fuck. I could have been satan. Everyone gets a cell phone these days. Its the capitalist way. I called audrey about it, feeling strangely like I had committed a crime and gotten away with it. corollary: There are 3 credit bureaus, set up by geography, archaically enough. Perhaps my account got transferred to the western bureau, and thus, did not show up in their check, much to their chagrin. Or verizon doesnt keep records that old. Or, the whole thing rolled off, marked up my credit like a smelly white trash child playing in its own shit, dried up and went away only leaving the residue that has been washed away innocent by the rains of the years. I dont know. Who gives a fuck. All I know is I got impulsive, neurotically had to face up to my irrational anxiety, and now am left with a goddam money vampire sucking on my wrist for a year.
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