The Wilderness Years - Early Doors

When i had walked out of the hallowed halls of higher education the first time, circa 1993, i was walking into a job market rather barren and devoid of prospects, Slick Willie hadn't got us going in whatever direction it would be, hadn't boosted the markets and created disposable income, hadn't kick started the economy or reformed welfare... now by the time i flunked out of grad school just two short years later the college kids were blowing down the doors of corporate America and making bank, or at least that's what the papers said, i knew a few people of that ilk but most everyone i knew was in a band or made art or sold drugs or made art, was in a band and sold drugs, a few had real gigs, the Engineer, my Lawyer (who really wasn't a lawyer but a marketing guy,  a riff on Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas), the good Doctor who as the biggest introvert i knew took a job as a travelling salesman, and of course the good many of us who had taken jobs just to make ends meet like Jess, the good Doctor's lady who was shilling at the Party Haus and waiting to default on her student loans, she had actually helped me to land the warehouse gig and when we all sat around on Saturday nights drinking and getting stoned and indulging in too much whisky and various other substances one could describe it as a rather sad, less successful and less attractive version of St. Elmo's Fire, just a decade later and living in the land of Slick Wille and not Ruthless Ronnie...

The next week i managed to make it to work on time every day, start with small attainable goals, isn't that what all the self help gurus say? call it one for the working stiff and two for the hoodlum, the important business of getting the business up and running was taken care of pronto, Frat Boy Finance Guy lived across the 40th St. Bridge and into an old mill town now absent said mill, a run down little hamlet with a 100 bars, i was beginning to wonder who was shittier at finance as i pulled into his apartment lot, me for overpaying for his  mediocre smoke or him at his actual job, this was more Crap St. than Wall St. but what the hell did i know about the stock market? fucking nil, nor did i care, my market came in zip-locked plastic bags and with any luck made the room smell pleasantly funky, as usual luck was absent inside Frat Boy Finance Guy's apartment but at least the gear was a better than the dirt i passed of as ganja back at Podunk, it would do for now and we'd hope for the snowball effect to work it's magic... i had a feeling Frat Boy Finance Guy did too, i'm sure his asshole puckered a bit every time i came by, 6'4 and huge dreads, thrift store clothes driving a different borrowed car each time, even if i hadn't been doing illegal shit i'm sure i sorta fit the profile of a guy who would be doing illegal shit, and yet like Master Fucking Luke i'd slip in and out like a shadow and the local John Q.'s never saw me...

Maybe i was on the cutting edge of business models when it came to the weed slinging business, had i any foresight i should have planned out a few short seminars on the basics and then offered more courses on the advance and expanding model, been like the Tom Vu of grass, my face smiling across late night telly as i strolled across a yacht all blinged-out as bikini clad models lolled around and smiled towards me as we all drank champagne, i'd tell all the would be hustlers of America that i was once a stiff like them but now i'm making cheddar and that i could teach them to do it too! order my seminars on VHS or the new DVD format, $39.99 for the first three lessons and just 10 bucks for each additional lesson, call in the next 30 minutes and we'll throw in some free pipe cleaners and rubber bands (for all theeee fucking caaaash), don't be a fuck-up like all those other stoners, this method is tried and true and sure to make you a big success... the funny part was it was nothing more that business 101, do basic shit and do it well and people will come back, even god damn when your shit isn't as good as some other guy's...

And so i snuck in and out of the old mill town for the first few weeks, i had the numbers worked and had hoped to sell a couple of ounces a week if it went well, nickel and dime shit, eighths and quarters and maybe the occasional half, a small discount for buying weight but nothing drastic, it needed to be broken down to make a profit and so each day i'd roll home from the warehouse and check the messages, that's right, on the fucking answering machine on the apartment line, i didn't have a cell phone or a pager, it was all Ma' fucking Bell, then i'd make a few call backs and tell people when it was cool to come by, in the early doors sometimes it was 2 customers a night, sometimes it'd be 8, other times the phone wouldn't ring at all and i'd sweat it wondering if shit was going south but really i didn't have that many people on the payroll back then as we used to joke, but it went and people would stop by and we'd have a smoke and drink a beer and it was all quite polite...

The positive part was that i was seeing repeat customers and some of them had brought friends, apparently the new guy back in town was alright, of course there were protocols when new kids wanted to come to the party and so first it would be discussed and if things seemed cool then it was a go, the reference had to be a solid one as well as in no friend of a friend bullshit and said person had to vouch for new kid at risk of being banned or worse themselves, the worse part always left lovingly vague, often delivered with a chuckle but delivered just the same, and while you couldn't sit and dwell on what happened to even the lowest level street dealers for selling grass in the year of 1995 you had to put up some kind of protective barrier, maybe not as drastic or paranoid as Cowboy Dan from back in Podunk days but Cowboy Dan had passed on some important knowledge of what to do and at the same time what not to do, and what's a good student do? they study the teachers to learn the strengths and weaknesses in order to someday surpass that teacher, i just wanted to tilt the risk/reward ration in my favor as much as possible even though at this point i knew the reward was low and the risk high, it was maybe 200 bucks a week and if popped it was possession, possession with intent, any other thing the Fuzz could tack on, lots of threats and chances to help yourself (rat out or trade up) cuz it's good PR for the Five-O and the media loves stories about evil doers being taken off the street and who is more evil than your friendly neighborhood grass peddler? but i needed customers and i had to hope they'd need me or more correctly what i could provide...

And so those first few weeks rolled along and it went alright, i had a little extra cash for the bar and pizzas, i was settling in to my new place, the gig at the warehouse was cool, now i just needed something to break, a new connection specifically, one with better gear but for now i was just waiting it out, dealing with the few customers i had and scraping by, it was alright but it was no means to an end and by December the loans would start coming due and i needed things to pick up a bit, needed to generate a bit more income and as far as i was concerned the straight and narrow was for suckers...