How I Became Mr. PE

Asian Kryptonite

2008-09-11T22:02:00.007-04:00

An Asian lady wearing a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses and a black business suit to match entered Mr. Windham’s office. She let out a huge sigh with a stressed look on her face, “Excuse me sir but he’s not talking.” Mr. Windham smirked and said, “Arthur this is Ms. Kim, she is our principal in training.” She looked at me with a slight smile and nodded her head to say hello.

Ms. Kim was very plain looking very little make up, a baggy dress suit, but pretty cute I thought. Then again I had a thing for Asian girls. They were little Arthur’s kryptonite. Often times I’d give Asian girls the benefit of the doubt when giving them the physical once over. You know what I mean, checking them out head to toe to see if they have…class and manners.

Ms. Kim was no exception to the benefit of the doubt rule. All she needed was a skirt not made for an Orthodox Jew and a guest spot on a show called Pimp My Face, then we’re talking dream girl!

Mr. Windham’s chuckle brought me out of my near boner state. “Ms. Kim is fortunate enough to be placed under my wing so to speak, observing the methods of nurturing, guidance and in this particular instance discipline. Ah, Ms. Kim you still got a lot to learn, remember what I told you with great power comes great responsibility.” Mr. Windham must’ve been unaware that Ms. Kim and I were up on our pop culture as we simultaneously had puzzled looks on our faces, thinking that he just verbally plagiarized a line from a Toby Maguire movie. You know the one where he's swinging around like a male Olympic gymnast in his red pajamas, which reminds me Kirsten Dunst, nice cans!

Speaking of nice cans Mr. Windham picked up the phone, “Mrs. Thundertop could you please bring me Jared Parson’s file…thank you? Mr. Windham gave me a look filled with cockiness and spoke, “Well Arthur no better way for a new teacher to learn new methods than to observe them first hand. Shall we? It will be fun!” He wasn’t lying!

It Couldn’t Be This Easy?

2008-09-11T20:39:00.005-04:00

Mr. Windham guided me into his office that was cluttered with shelves and shelves of books. He quickly filed me in and shut the door discretely behind him as if he were up to something. I was a little spooked by his odd behavior. I quickly got his attention, “I brought a copy of my resume.” Mr. Windham interrupted me right away, “That won’t be necessary. Mr. Schmagegee, Arthur if you don’t mind me asking, you aren’t working for your father?” I sighed heavily on the inside, but gave him the Mickey Mouse answer, “No sir I am trying to find my own way. I actually enjoy the company of children and thought this would be a great opportunity for me to gain experience working directly with them.” I could picture my brother Earl in my head listening to me spit out these bullshit lines as he giggles and nods in disapproval.

“Well between you and me I couldn’t turn down the son of Mr. Schmagegee. (That’s what I was hoping!) Pending a background check I would love to offer you the position.” Mr. Windham looked me square in the face with a firmly held smile that made me feel a little awkward. I was ready to answer Mr. Windham with a jovial, “Great where do I sign!” It couldn’t be this easy could it?

I started feeling guilty for my deception. My guilty conscious lasted for about 5 minutes. I had a plan and I wasn’t going to let no Coming to America Prince Akeem moment ruin it as I fooled these silly Americans into thinking I was some poor African from the jungle. No one needed to know my intentions or how I got the job, so what if I was the heir to throne of Lumumba (I’m confusing myself here).

Suddenly a lady popped into the office letting out a large sigh. What happened next was some funny shit, and gave me a good idea for what I was in for!

Mr. Windham

2008-08-25T23:21:00.005-04:00

The smell of licorice assaulted me as I entered the presumed office of Mr. Windham. Before I could even get my eyes situated around the room another pleasant voice greeted me, I was beginning to get suspicious. “Hi there how can I help you?” A prim and properly dress dark haired older woman smiled at me as she spoke.

As I prepared to answer her, the first thought that came to mind was please lady don’t have a marble eye, hideous mole, or huge boobs. [See previous blog] Before I could even answer Donna did it for me like I was the kid who got called into the office for biting. While Donna was conversing I couldn’t help but notice this lady had decent cans! I know gross, what’s wrong with me?!

Luckily I noticed when the sweet decent canned woman was addressing me. “Nice to meet you Mr. Schmagegee, I’m Mrs. Thundertop, the administrative assistant for Mr. Windham.” Okay this is the last fake name I use that refers to a person’s body parts I promise! “I’ll let Mr. Windham know you are here please have a seat.” As I sat down on the couch I began to wonder how many juvenile delinquents sat on this very same couch leaving behind their mucus, boogers, saliva, urine, and fecal matter. I sunk right into the blue cloth material it was so cozy I could have laid down and taken a nap.

Behind Mrs. Thundertop’s desk across from where I was sitting were all kinds of things on the wall: diplomas, pictures, and letters serving as a shrine I’m sure to Mr. Windham. Then right on a cue a heavy set man dressed in a grey suit came out into the room. He had a distinguished educated look to him with his neatly shined bald head and combed hair around the side of his head. He gave me a soft smile and greeted me, “Hi Mr._.” The pause indicated he had no fucking idea who I was, I went for the juggernaut. The Doug Flutie Hail Mary play right off the bat. “Hi sir, Arthur Schmagegee I believe you know my father Douglass Schmagegee.” There it was my shameless plug, now work your magic!

His eyebrows pressed down in uncertainty, “Douglass..oh yes, yes! I played golf with your Dad a couple months back!” “Bingo!” I thought. Mr. Windham went on, “Well I actually didn’t play with him we were at a charity tournament together. We chatted a little, in fact I took a picture with him and the Congressman it should be up on the…” His words evaporated as he transferred his attention to his wall of fame. “Felicia that picture of Mr. Schmagaegee and the Congressman where is it?” He asked Mrs. Thundertop and she responded with a puzzled look. He returned his attention to me, “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. In any case what can I do for you Mr. Schmagegee?” I was shocked by the respect this man was paying a dipshit like me, but hell if I won’t take it.

“Oh please Mr. Windham call me Arthur.” That will probably be the first and last time I’ll ever get to say that to someone. “Mr. Windham I am here interviewing for the teaching position.” His eyes sunk even lower in his face almost piercing his eye lids. He had no fucking clue what I was talking about. Mrs. Thundertop aided him, “I believe he is here for the P.E. position sir.” Mr.Windham stared in a moment of bewilderment, “Oh yes, yes! Arthur follow me please.” As Mr. Windham led me to his office I suddenly got the jitters and apparently the runs as my stomach started bubbling. The worse thing that could happen for me now would be to have gastro-explosions turning this man’s office into a flatulent sauna! I took a deep breath as the door to the office opened.

Arriving at my Interview

2008-08-20T17:05:00.006-04:00

My brother actually wished me good luck as I shoveled down my Pop Tart and headed out for my interview. The school was fairly closed to where I lived and the drive only took me 25 minutes, not too bad of a commute.

I arrived to a chain of buildings that looked like a castle right out of Lord of the Rings off the major road where the school sat. The sign that hung over the gothic iron gates of the main entrance spoke pretentiously of the school’s history and prestige, “75 years of academic excellence and innovation.” It reminded me of my dad giving a dinner speech about how my siblings and I needed to keep the family business running and how many years the Schmagegee business had been the premier academic supplier. It left a bad taste in my mouth as I drove into the parking lot that you would have thought belonged to Costco.

I walked into the main office and caught three ladies laughing in the midst of a joke. “Can I help you?” A cute red head with librarian thick black rimmed glasses asked me. I answered her in my polite my parents raised me right voice, “Yes ma’am I am here to see Mr. Windham.” She replied in a sweet, friendly, fake, and high pitched tone, “Of course let me walk you down to his office!”

As she stepped from behind her desk I caught a glimpse of her disproportional body. I have a bit of a staring problem, my mind tells me not to look but my eyes are lured like a mouse to cheese loaded mouse trap. Why is it so hard for me?! I can hear the voice in my head tell me, “Arthur don’t stare at those lady’s boobs even though they’re huge. Or, “You can’t keep fixating on that man’s marble eye (Even though he probably can’t see you doing it!).” Finally my favorite, “Art for the love of God please stop looking at hideous mole that eerily resembles Bill Murray from CaddyShack.”

This time was nothing different, my eyes locked on like a heat sinking missile to her thick thighs decorated by a tight spandex-like black dress pants that would of had any black man salivating. It felt like everyone in the room caught me staring as my eyes shot back up towards her face, which was met with her blushing smile. Can you blame me though? It was an enigma how this woman was not made up of two totally different women at the waist. She reminded me of one of those mythical creatures you know the half man half horse…Centaur! As I pretend not to be up on my nerd knowledge.

As we walked down the hall she introduced herself to me, “I’m Donna PEARing by the way.” Okay that is not her real name but it’s fitting right? We came to an office and she escorted me in. It was from my experiences from that exact moment on is why I decided to create this blog.

My Wealthy Homeless Roomate

2008-08-06T14:12:00.006-04:00

Whitney’s “job” did not come without its disadvantages. Other bums in the area caught wind of Whitney’s growing popularity where he was bumming, and they weren’t going to take it lying down. Apparently there is some sort of code or fraternity among bums and Whitney evidently was not playing ethically. Whitney was threatened by bums all the time, but the funny thing is they would threaten to find wherever he was sleeping and take him down. Word on the street was a gang of bums were scavenging the area for Whitney’s homeless abode. It would be silly to think that he was living under a roof with air conditioning and cable right?

One time he actually thought he was in some serious danger when he somehow got cornered by a few vagrants and jumped him…but in slow motion. I mean these guys moved like turtles they were so drunk, lethargic, and malnourished that all Whitney had to do to get out of the situation was walk away, but at a fast pace. I'm sure it went down like a choreographed fight scene from the West Side Story if the actors were to reenact it today!

Whitney was always doing silly shit like this and it was only a matter of time before he went on to his next adventure. I was actually surprised how long this one had been lasting, but as long as he brought home dinner I wasn’t complaining. I know again some of you reading this might think how immoral this is or even criminal, well let’s look at it as a social experiment. It also shows that they are still good trustworthy people out their willing to give to the needy and wealthy disguised as the needy. I guess it goes to say that in Whitney’s case the rich get richer and the poor get richer.

Whitney looked at my brother and announced he was going to work. Earl looked real confused about this looking at me puzzled by my roommate’s remarks regarding any kind of employment. I nodded at him as if to say don’t ask. Whitney walked towards the door and before he existed turned to Earl, “Hey Earl you’ve been working out, huh? You look extremely round today.” Whitney left before he could hear Earl’s instinctive reaction, “Fuck you!”

Whitney's Fucked up Plan

2008-08-06T14:02:00.005-04:00

Several months back Whitney thought it would be an interesting experiment to pose as a panhandler. He started by studying the ones he would see at major road intersections or conveniently placed at 495 exits. He watched their limps, wardrobes, signs they carried around, and how other people responded to them. You would of thought he was Robert DeNiro preparing for his next role. Then came the hard part at least for me, Whitney let himself go he stopped showering, shaving, wiping his ass, anything involving basic human hygiene he was not doing. He even thought of picking up a heroin addiction to really look the part.

Then he hit the streets armed with a beat down demeanor, and pungent odors. Whitney thought that panhandling was very similar to the real estate market, it was all about location, location, location. Whitney mapped out a strategy posting up at what he believed to be prime real estate. Whitney also made himself into a unique product, he was not your ordinary bum (for more than obvious reasons).

Instead of a gimpy walk or a mangled roast beef looking appendage holding your typical pity me signs, Whitney did something different. He was out there on the streets informing people. Whitney was a walking billboard of information, he armed himself draped with poster board of the weather forecast– “Wear a sweater it’s going to be a chilly one!” Local news and events – “Only 4 more days to file your taxes.” He also had sport scores and even financial tips. Can you imagine taking stock tips from a bum?! But believe it or not it worked one guy even came up to him dropped $40 in his hand thanking him for the solid stock tips he gave last week. Whitney even thought of franchising this venture BumNews and posting other vagrants in the DC area with these billboards.

Some days Whitney would come home with a full dinner in hand for the both of us. He would tell me stories about how some mother would buy him a meal from McDonalds or drop off a blanket; and the money not too shabby! I’ll put it this way he wasn’t doing badly for a bum.

My Roommate Whitney

2008-07-31T22:42:00.002-04:00

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)

2008-07-18T11:25:00.005-04:00

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)

2008-07-17T13:40:00.002-04:00

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)

2008-07-16T14:12:00.003-04:00

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)

2008-07-15T14:24:00.003-04:00

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)

2008-07-14T11:15:00.003-04:00

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)

2008-07-13T14:19:00.002-04:00

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

2008-07-10T17:00:00.000-04:00

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….