My Roommate Whitney

My roommate Whitney and I went to college together. It was there that we found out we had certain interests and things in common, one being booze and bud. But another big one was the whole idea of following our “own path” however fucked up it might seem.

Whitney is something of a genius. In school he had his own term paper writing service. I was amazed at how many kids were coming to him to get their papers written, even grad students! Like me he comes from a well-off family that anointed him prince of the family kingdom destined one day to rule over the corporate throne through his God-given birthright.

His family owned a real estate development company, which was pretty big on the west coast. Whitney also had no desire to join the family trade (however he knew he had to eventually) and did everything in his power not to. On the eve of one of his father’s deals to take over a smaller real estate developer, Whitney got caught with the Company CEO’s daughter in her parent’s pool doing things that daddy probably would not have been proud of. Needless to say that Whitney’s father lost the deal to a competitor who it turned out offered much less. After this incident Whitney’s dad never forgave him and he became the family outcast, which didn’t bother Whitney one bit.

Whitney knew eventually he could and probably would get back in his father’s graces and take over the company, but in the mean time he was going to have some “fun.” Whitney’s idea of fun is a little unusual, which brings us back to the current situation in my kitchen as my brother stares in horror at this million-dollar baby looking the role of an impoverished vagabond.

Interview Day (Part 3)

A sudden symphony of tone-deaf singing came from the upper level. The blood curdling noises came closer and closer as my American Idol reject of a roommate came down the steps to the kitchen.

“Baby baby no muscle man could sever, my love for you is true and will never…Stop for a minute! Baby I’m so glad your mine…” (Who can name that song?) My roommate Whitney (His real name is also a girl’s name) is a odd guy and coming from me that is saying a lot!

Whitney shuffled down the steps carrying on the tune aloud. His pubic like curls of hair had become so thick and stale that it had become a certified white man’s afro. The L.A. race riot of a hair do on Whitney’s head was accompanied by a matching facial fro that was not trimmed, a weathered and ripped paper-thin red based plaid shirt, and stained and torn khaki working pants. Whitney looked and smelled homeless, but there was a method to his madness, which I will explain shortly.

When Earl saw him I was almost certain he threw up in his mouth. Not only could you hear Whitney before he entered the room, but you could also smell him. He reeked of piss, alcohol, and body odor a scent called Convulsion I believe, I’m sure they sell it at Nordstrom’s. Earl was appalled and his mouth hung open in shock, which was probably not a good idea as I’m sure he was just swallowing the putrid ness odor exfoliating from Whitney’s body.

Earl finally gathered himself to speak, “I, I, I – Do you need to be fucking retarded to live here?! What the fuck Whitney you not only smell like shit, but you look like you fell out of someone’s asshole!” Whitney gave his patented giggle that sounded like he was clearing his throat; this was done usually in conjunction with a quick one liner he was getting ready to spit out. “Funny you mention that Earl because that is exactly where I came from, in fact it was your mom’s stretched out rectal tubing. Schloop! I fell right out!” Whitney sang out the last line of his witty remarks, turned to me and quickly blurted “No offense, Art.” “None taken,” I replied. Whitney then quickly added, “Which in some fucked up way would make me your brother Earl so come, hug me now.” Whitney stretched out his arms and went straight for Earl. Earl let out a feminine like shriek and jumped up as if some sort of venomous snake had found its way into his lap.

“Get the fuck away from me you sick bastard!!!” Earl yelled in a panicked manner pressed up against the nearest wall like it was a tall building ledge. He looked as if he was watching a vile murder take place right in front of him. “I might get Hepatitis just by looking at you!” Earl cried. His next question staggered out of his mouth, “Wh, Wh, Why are you dressed like that, why haven’t you showered I mean…(long pause) what the fuck Whitney?!”

To me this was everyday life, a reality show waiting to happen, “My roommate Whitney.” It had taken Whitney about two months to pull off this look and that was about 6 months ago. It was all a part of his plan.

Interview Day (Part 2)

It took my brother 25 minutes before he got to my crib. It must have been the mountain of a street I live on, I didn’t think he could make it up that hill in one try. My brother also has an annoying habit of ringing or knocking on a door more than once on the initial go. Who does that! I wonder if he expects better results from the incessant ringing. Let me just sprint to the door as fast as I can knocking anything or anyone out of my way because my brother cannot stand at the door for two minutes. I have transformed it into a game, for every ring or knock I make him wait an extra 30 seconds. I lost count after the 16th ring. 8 minutes later I got tired of his yelling of obscenities on my porch as kids were eating their Count Chocula cereal.

As I opened the door the glimpse of his round sweating face conjured up images of glazed ham that had me craving it like I was16 weeks into a pregnancy. “You okay Earl? Do you want to sit down?” My brother gave me a look that warranted the initiation of any drunken bar fight around last call. “I know you were standing by the door Arthur. I could hear you laughing.” How does he always know?!

Earl sat down at the counter and rifled through the dated newspaper that had become a recycled placemat. The look on his face showed his discomfort for the hygienic state of my kitchen counter. As he glanced at his sports watch he shot me a look any disappointed would give their underachieving son, as if to say I created this?! “So you really going through with this?” I answered Earl with a confident yes. He shook his head and followed with, “There is no way you are getting this job five minutes in the interview and they are going to mark you as a kid-toucher. Just try not to have a boner in your pants when you bullshit about how much you love the children.” Earl mockingly chuckled at me. He really did care about me in his own way. He was just trying to detour me from what he thought made absolutely no sense.

Earl couldn’t understand why I was doing this, and how I expected to get the job. It was at this point that I explained my deceiving plan to him. When I was finished the look on his face showed he was somewhat impressed with my plan even though he did not want to admit it. His answer for me however was the same as it has always been, why don’t I just work for my dad?

My brother didn’t want to admit it but he was miserable working for my dad. The long hours and the added pressure put on him as the next in line to head the company. He would never tell me this but I think in many ways Earl envied the way I lived. So whenever he ever spoke about me working for the “empire” I knew he was speaking for my dad and not himself.

Interview Day (Part 1)

The morning of my interview I was woken by an obnoxiously early phone call. Only one person in the world would dare call me this early, my older brother Earl. Once a week Earl does his morning run fairly close to my townhouse, and on that morning I can expect a wakeup call from him.

My brother is out there every morning running rain, shine, or blizzard. He is a bit of a fitness nut, to the point that he counts his calories and chronicles his daily workout routine. I have never seen a person get so excited for the weekend to come so they can work on their shoulders and lats.

What drives me nuts about my brother is eating out with him. It’s like eating with 110 pound woman who insists she needs to shed a few as she creates her own menu concoction substituting anything oily and fun on the plate for something dry and pasty.

The funny thing is you would never guess my brother for a Richard Simmons clone. Earl has the unfortunate genetics of inheriting a soft wide overweight frame with a double chin that would make any habitual snacker jealous. He is the most in shape fat guy I have ever seen!

Earl’s early morning phone call started like any other, “Hey dickhead wake the fuck up!” I could hear the wind whistling through his Bluetooth with a constant tempo of fat guy breathing. Earl loved his recent purchase, Fit Tooth, a Bluetooth head piece made for the person who feels the need to be on the phone while working out, which meant more people had to listen to Earl’s work out wheezing. I answered my brother with the same affection, “What the fuck do you want? Why do you always call me this early?!” I was actually glad that he did I needed to wake up. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes you better be up.” There was no reply to my brother’s demand because I was trying to fall back asleep. “Hey asshole! I mean it!” He yelled. “Okay, okay!” I responded.

The Plan (Part 3)

In case my plan did not work I reluctantly had a back up, working for my father. Like my brother and sister before me I would join the family as I was “destined” to do. I have never had any desire to work for my dad, I have always wanted to do something different than what was expected of me.

I guess I have always been the black sheep of the family, my mom told me that. When I was getting ready to be baptized (Christian non-Catholic) I watched other baptisms for weeks as the other children and adults were lightly doused with water like a Super Bowl celebration. So on the day of my baptismal I brought some shampoo in my pocket and once the Pastor poured the water from the jewel encrusted goblet from a Lil' Jon video on my head I quickly reached in my pocket for a glob of that Johnson and Johnson’s kid formula mixing it for a good cleansing with that holy water. Much to the amusement of the congregation and the horror of my parents from that day forth I have made a conscious effort to be different.

My loathing thoughts of fulfilling the family legacy would have to be put on hold when days later from submitting my resume I got a call from the school! Within a week I had an interview set up. Now was my chance, Carpet Diem!!!

The Plan (Part 2)

My father is one of the largest scholastic books and electronic suppliers in the world. Most if not all schools know his company, which shares the same name as my surname (hence the fake name for this blog to protect the innocent if there is any).

Picture this me sitting at an interview for this job and right before the school principal tells me that I am not qualified in any way for this position they conveniently realize whose child I am. Now since this particular school supplies roughly 75% directly with my family’s company how could they turn me down?! Pretty fucking genius right?! Ok now I know the word extortion may come to mind for some of you reading this, which I do not take lightly at all, but I think that is a little overdramatic. I just think it is resourcefulness and smart business. Plus it still did not guarantee I would get the job, it was just my Ace in the hole.

I have always admired people who have worked their way up the capitalist ladder in this country, those wonderful “rags to riches” stories you often hear about. Men like Andrew Carnegie, Donald Trump, Tony Montana, and Scrooge Mc Duck defied odds and used whatever resources they had to overcome obstacles.

I believe in using whatever resources available to you moral or immoral. Do you think for one instance that Uncle Scrooge wouldn’t turn Huey, Dewey, or Louie into pate if they threatened his cash flow? We all know what Scarface did with his obstacles, he sprayed them full of lead. And when the going got tough for Donald he started a reality show.

This may not be the most moral way to do things, but I can live with myself. I mean it’s not really what you know its who you know. Did you know that roughly 70% of people polled in a recent study stated they obtained a job through some form of social networking. I am totally making this shit up, but it sounds good doesn’t it?

The Plan (Part 1)

Occasionally when I would use the Internet for non-porn purposes I would check out some job websites to see if there was anything that I would be interested in.

One day I saw this ad for a part-time PE teaching position at a school. Now if I where explaining this to you in person you probably would stop me right now and say something to the effect of, “A part-time P.E. teacher are you fucking retarded?!” Well at least that is what my older brother said. However, this was no ordinary school; this was a premier school in Washington D.C. I am talking people of power sent their kids here from entertainers, athletes, company CEO’s, to politicians. The “best of the best” at least in terms of parents.

I thought if I got this job I could use it as a sort of career fair to check out whose mom or dad did what, find a thing or two that interest me, do some networking, drop off my over compensating resume, and I’m in there like swim wear!

The only problem is I don’t know the first thing about teaching or kids really. I mean I have no problem with the little shits but I’ve never been around that many. I wouldn’t know the difference between a dirty diaper and a melted chocolate bar. But I did have something else that would be much more valuable than my experience babysitting/teaching.

Introduction

Hello and welcome to my online journal/blog/pointless nonsense. My name is Arthur Schmagegee (Shma-gay-gee) the name is fake, but I am very real. This blog chronicles my experiences working in a prominent private school in the Washington DC area.

About a year ago I came to the realization that I have no idea what I really want to do with my life, which scared me shitless. I know there are many others who have been in this same position, but for an Ivy League grad that comes from a family of success this is not kosher. To be honest I had no desire to pursue anything related to what I studied, and I really wasn’t that book smart or business oriented to pursue anything related to my major. It’s a miracle I even graduated from my school, but I guess it is hard to fail out the kid whose Dad supplies a shit load of the University’s supplies and resources and makes yearly contributions that rival some people’s yearly salaries. But I’ll get back to my Pop’s company in a little.

Right after I graduated my father started pressuring me to figure out my plans for the next 40 years, I’m being a bit dramatic, but you get the point. I bought some time by telling my parents I was going to take a year off and enjoy myself before I plunged into the real world and they actually respected that. Instead of bullshitting during this time I hit the drawing board trying to figure out what I could see myself pursuing and where I could spend the rest of my years contributing to my 401K. The answer sadly enough was I did not know and then it hit me….