A Brief Note On My Time at the Pace Electrical Foundation.

 

To be quite candid, the Pace Electrical Foundation is where I've always made my bones. And now, due to the fact that our facility is located on the periphery of a 'conflict zone', my team and I are being moved to a secure area with neither windows, walls, floors or ceilings. I am asked to seem abrupt and dismissive. The sweaters that I've worn for years are admired for their destructive potential. On this day, when I waltzed through the cafeteria, I was pulled aside, wrestled to the ground, and asked to stay after to receive a briefing from the head of our Dismissions Department. When I met with him in the cellar near the water heater, he told me that he thought I'd never ask him why I was told to meet with him.  I replied that I considered his every move to be part of a larger strategy to induce me to appear more life-like during subsequent years of struggle on the Fourth Continent.

When I thought about it later I realized that he never once felt free to mention my confrontation with his ex-wife at a vaccine distribution center when she tried to buttonhole me and have me run off the reservation with no further questions asked. I knew that if I called attention to the way his hands hung limply at his sides while he made the most outrageous accusations, I could be looking at an experimental surgical procedure at the very least. Once I cut loose some folks I'd been playing ball with since the prior 8th of August festivities, I knew that whatever irons still took up room in my space heater would have to be shared with my deliberative cronies, or else I'd be the first to cry 'uncle!' and make life unlivable for the vast majority of post-pubescent proxy warriors. This could not be permitted to happen. I didn't want to lose a small piece of metal even though I was sure that some of the other parts would turn up without anyone being any the wiser.

When I think about it now, I can't help but see that I went about this all wrong. My first mistake was to ever trust the common sense of your 'average Joe'. Once I had purloined the table from the hallway, I felt that I was literally 'this' close to achieving a long sought position as a Hosiery Encirclement Trabent. Those who knew what to do about invisible people were the kind of experts who could make my grade something to be proud of. Instead of hanging my head, I decided to raise my kids on a farm. One or two of us have been called many things, but never 'grouchy'. We hope to see the rest of you once we've succeeded in priming the paint in our Den. You won't like what you see, but when has that ever stopped you from living out of your best self? Like, never?

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