FourBux

Pros and Cons of Corporate America

As some of you know, I divide my time between two jobs: one is my freelance graphic design company, which I’ve run with moderate success for a decade now, and then my corporate gig, which is pretty much there solely for the benefits. Those of you who are self-employed can really appreciate that piece of the puzzle, as health and life insurance payments, when made out of your own pocket, are a huge pill to swallow, to say the least.

Life, especially in a creative field like design, in corporate America is everything you’ve every heard it was: a giant hamster wheel of frustration, endless approvals, and at best, conservative results. More »

Finding your inner bumble bee

I just read fellow blogger Emon’s article (is epiphany too strong a word?), where he encouraged his readers to find their “inner bumblebee,” referencing of course the bumble bee character of Blind Melon fame. In an offline discussion, I jokingly modified his avatar to be wearing a bee costume, which led to him coming up with a suggestion that we all develop your inner bee and send it in, until there is a community of bees, all happy with where they are in life, together.

Since drawing myself as the Camaro Bumble Bee from the summer blockbuster Transformers was proving to be difficult, I went this direction.

Remember me when you’re famous

Well, it finally happened.

You know that one family member with the truck, who’s always the first sucker you call to help you move? Except I don’t have a truck (I learned that lesson a long time ago), that sucker is me. Hi, nice to meet you. What I do have is a computer. And a relatively specialized set of skills. And evidently, I like to give it away.

I have designed wedding invitations, funeral programs, children’s school play ads, church camp t-shirts, etc., for free for friends and relatives, just because I like to help out. And for family members or close friends, I really don’t mind. Most of the stuff I do for them in not for profit anyway, so I feel like I’m giving something back. Since my job now is about a soulless as it could be, it feels good to do something just because it needs done.

Recently, however, a casual friend needed some help designing a t-shirt, and I did the “remember me when you’re famous, wink-wink” thing, and just threw him a bone. Since I don’t design garbage, even for a freebie, the shirt turned out great. That one shirt design turned into two designs, and now three. Each time I’ve just said “send me a t-shirt when they’re printed,” and I meant it. I know I’m not going to get rich off these things, they’re just for fun, and keep my name associated with the business and in front of the network of others in the group.
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Starbucks Coffee - now with more Crack - Part Two

So, in today’s Part Two installment of Starbucks Coffee – now with Crack (part one), we catch up with our hero, late to work again, hung over from too much caffeine yesterday and subsequently being up all night, only to stop at the same Starbucks, with the famed orange mug in hand.
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Starbucks Coffee - now with more Crack

Okay kids, today’s weird experience stems from my daily trip to the Starbucks on the corner. The same one where I saw someone almost get their early morning butt handed to them.

Almost every day, after driving 17 miles to work in a complete fog, I manage to convince myself that I need coffee at the end of my trip. Nay, not just coffee, but that I need Starbucks coffee. The amount of caffeine that they infuse into it is just about what my brain needs to get started in the morning. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.

This morning, I decided to go in, rather than sit behind sixteen cars in the drive thru, and, sure enough, there was no line at the counter. It’s a crapshoot, I tell you. Some days, there will be a line around the building for the drive thru, and not a soul inside. Other days, the reverse is true. And when the Perfect Java Storm occurs, both lines are off the property. That’s the day I elect to just sleep in the cube and let the chips fall where they may.

At any rate, in an effort to keep my expensive habit under control, although it may hose the name of my blog, I decided to start bringing my own coffee cup in. Since I just get coffee anyway, it just speeds up the process and is an uber cheap fix. Today’s bill came to 43¢, which I’m sure was a gross undercharge, but last week this same new clerk charged me eight dollars for a coffee and scone, and I didn’t notice until I was back at work and it wasn’t worth a walk back. I figure it all evens out.

So, I approach the counter and plop my cool, albeit not necessarily unique, silver and orange travel mug on the counter, “coffee with a little room, please” being my regular request. The new girl fumbles with the ordering screen, first total coming up to $4.27, at which I squint and give her the “did you even hear yourself?” look, while barista Numero Dos grabs my coffee cup.

Here’s where it gets strange.
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Um, you talking to me?

So Tuesday night, on my way home from a particularly demeaning day of corporate graphic design drudgery, I had the radio on, the top down, trying to soak up the some of the sun’s soothing rays. It’s been raining here for what seems like weeks, and although the state needs it, it’s not much fun in a convertible in need of a new top.

But that day was sunny and a little cooler, so the top was down and as I cruised along the highway at the rush-hour speed of seven miles an hour, all I wanted to do was get home and crash. Which, of course, I couldn’t do, because I had several hours of freelance work left, but at least I could be at home in my totally disorganized and only partially unpacked apartment.

Once we finally escaped the freeway, traffic meandered through the streets at whatever speed it could, and seeing how this was the end of the day, we were all going five miles an hour over the limit, which put us at 45MPH on this particular stretch of the road.

Suddenly, interrupting my sunny, quiet ride home, comes a voice from above:

“Speed limit’s 40, buddy.”
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