Another Surprise

My weekend is winding down, and I can't keep myself from doing the thing I hate the most--peeking at the clock and doing the mental countdown until I have to go back to work. But I shouldn't complain. I've got a decent job that I enjoy, and although the money has slipped a bit the past few months, it's still a fairly good living that allows me to pay the bills.

And I was reminded again today of the path not chosen. Every week or so, I get another email from a financial services recruiter, but I pretty much kissed that life goodbye when I made my decision to come out here to Vegas. Most of the jobs they offer are things I wouldn't even consider doing, but the one I got this morning made me grin a little bit.

My NASD registrations expire in 3 days, and once they're gone, that particular volume in the Book of Mikey will be closed forever. And I've made my peace with it and moved on. But I got this one last message, telling me of a position requiring my expertise at the same company I left two years ago. And the location? Nashville Tennessee.

Heh. Thanks, but no thanks.

I'm much happier now. I don't need or wish to return to that world. I swallowed way too many bitter pills in the past five years, and although it was a valuable experience, I'm glad it's over and I wouldn't want to go through that struggle again. I'll take the knowledge I gained and use it to help me enhance my own personal wealth and eventually turn those years of sour grapes into a fine wine that I can enjoy for years to come.

So now I'm taking a more enjoyable route to financial independence. No more licenses, registrations, continuing education requirements, oversight, compliance, or duplicate account statements going to my boss. I'm making decent money in the casino world now, and as tedious as dealing a $5 shoe game to a table full of non-tipping chainsmokers may be, it beats sitting at my desk attached to a headset and forced to listen to some dumbass's theory about a stock he'd never heard of before he turned on CNBC that morning.

Besides, going over the files, I can *almost* see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the six-year hiccup in my long-range plan is winding down and I can get back to the business of socking away the cash again.

But the occasional reminder of why I'm doing what I'm doing is a good thing. So I gave that email it's proper attention and then promptly deleted it. There is no going back.

While I was wandering the estate thinking about those things today, I found a box on the counter in the kitchen addressed to me.

More Christmas presents? Well, it would appear so. Putting aside my Deep Thoughts for a few minutes, I got out my trusty pocketknife and opened the package. Inside was a brief Merry Christmas message attached to a bag full of Partagas Black Labels.

Oh hell yeah.

I must've really tricked Santa into thinking that I was a good boy this year! Of course, Santa's emissary lives in Wisconsin and goes by the name of Drew, but that's just details. Thanks again, brotha... Between Nick, George, Drew, Skip, and Rich, my humidor is slowly filling up with my favorite tasty combustibles. It's been a great Christmas, and it doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon. I have some gifts I still have to give also, but not for another three weeks...

January might be even better than December.

Mikey