Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Who Controls Kamchatka, Controls the World


Outside of board games, risk sucks. But while we are on the subject I always like to take Australia first when I play. I get steady (if meager) reinforcements and there is only one way in to Australia to defend from enemies.

More importantly, I like to imagine my forces conquering all of Asia while mounted on the backs of giant, genetically-enhanced marsupials.

Oddly, I like to imagine the same thing pretty often even years after the last time I actually played Risk. I wonder if there is a medication for that.

I sure hope not.

Anyway, as I promised here on the pages of Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng, "screw this job, I'm leaving".

I also let my co-workers know that if things improve before I find another job, I'll stay. We all know the chances of that . . .

Anyway, I've been invited to a last-stage interview at the corporate headquarters of an IT agency. The location for the interview is Washington D.C.

The catch is that if I go I purchase my own ticket, pay my own parking and tolls and buy my own lunch.

If I'm offered the job, the recruiter will reimburse up to $500. If I'm not offered the job, they reimburse $250. If I'm offered the job and the terms suck and I turn it down, I'm not reimbursed anything and have burned a vacation day I'd really have rather used for a vacation.

A last-minute ticket to D.C. costs ~$500. And I won't be in town long enough to even visit the Smithsonian.

How crappy is that?

In my opinion, pretty crappy.

If they decide not to open the new office they are planning, I'm out $250. If they decide to open it and offer me less money and a refrigerator box to live in, I'm out $500.

Also (and this is no small consideration) if I can't fly back from Chicago without being strip searched in a plexiglass box at airport security, what are my chances of making it back from D.C. with my pants at all?

I like my pants. I'm not going.

So, my current job has some extra time to sort out this process. And by "sort out" I mean "fabricate from thin air by changing the very material of time and space and create a new reality where all things are possible and perpetual motion powers the machinery which produces living unicorns to do our bidding".

Because that would be just awesome enough to work, in my opinion.

Especially if the unicorns endlessly run in front of giant rainbows like the ones emblazoned on my Dream Van.

*Brief pause while I imagine commanding my marsupial-powered minions from within my Dream Van*

Okay. Moving on.

Today I made my first willing political contribution to a specific candidate. A contribution of actual money, earned by me and exchanged for an intangible.

It feels weird. I'm the guy that pencils in his own "Piss Off" checkbox next to the "Would you like to contribute $1 to the Presidential Campaign Fund?" part of the tax form and scrawls a giant "X" in red Crayola in there.

Note: Scrawling things on the tax form in red Crayola does not exempt one from potential audit. Trust me on this.

It is, however, a total hoot.  

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