Money and Drugs

I used to work with a fella’ selling advertising who was about twenty years older than me. He played the role of mentor to me in this industry I was new to and he was a respected veteran. He loved to party, and made sure to do it multiple times per week. I would often play sidekick to him, and we became casual friends who hung out frequently. At the time, I thought I was meant to be in that industry. I was sure that it was my calling. I was very wrong about that, but that is of no matter here.

Years after leaving the aforementioned workplace, I got a call from an insurance salesman, who went under the guise of “financial advisor”, because insurance salesmen are the most despised professionals in existence. The insurance salesman told me how he was scouting for a financial adviser and came across my resume online. At the time he called I was doing a meaningless, no future job of reading gas meters. At the thought of me having a respectable job again, I was intrigued.

I wrote a test, and became a financial adviser. The way that the title “financial adviser” was justified was that the insurance salesmen were also given access to another financial product to sell called mutual funds. Mutual funds are stock packages, and that was where I put my focus. I never sold insurance once, and shuddered at the thought of doing so.

The year was 2008, and the planet had a severe market crash. This timing should have been a message for me to get away from the industry completely. It is a poisonous industry for the soul, and it is quite helpful in that industry if you don’t have a soul. The fella’ who hired me lost his soul years earlier to a massive heart attack where he actually died and was revived by doctors. My theory is that while the spark making your body function returns and you are now alive again, your soul doesn’t return to the once dead body. I actually just made that theory up. I have never thought that before. It could be true though. Who knows?

So my mentoring friend from my old profession, we’ll call him Eminem, said he would do business with me. I explained to him of how since we had a huge market crash, all of the huge corporations that cannot fail are now on sale in the stock market. I set Eminem up with $100,000 worth of high yield stocks, and my company loaned him the $100,000.

A few months later I went to this big party at a location that is legendary in my hometown, but is secret from you, because we’re always being watched, and I’m not going to say any names or locations. I called up Eminem and told him how he has to get up to this wicked party. He was there in like thirty minutes.

It was an awesome party in this loft style house, with three DJs and the best house and jungle I had ever heard. There was cocaine available for purchase, and ecstasy too. The supplier offered a sample of the cocaine to Eminem, and he decided it was worth purchase. The night went for, I imagine, another eight hours or so. We all went our separate ways and all was well.

A couple of weeks later Eminem called me up and told me to come on down to his town. I went on down and met up with him. He said how we have to go meet up with this guy and we did. We pulled up in a spot, and this black Jeep whips into the lot. I saw that it was a younger guy, probably in his thirties. Eminem went up to his vehicle and made a transaction with him. He came back to the car and started breaking out some cocaine. He offered me some, and although I really enjoyed the stuff, I said how, “Dude, it’s Tuesday afternoon. I can’t do that stuff on Tuesday afternoons”. He kind of made a sour face and went on with his business.

Some time after that we went to a bar called Cabana Club, or something. Eminem had a connection there with the manager and said we will get a free “bottle”. We were with Eminem, his brother, who was my manager where we worked together, and some female without a name. Going in the front door of the place we had to get patted down by the security trash. Myself, my former manager and the female without a name went through and the security trash kept checking Eminem. We had a seat and the bartender asked us what we’ll have. We said how there is supposed to be a bottle on hand for us and she said ok and brought us a two six of vodka.

After having a couple of drinks each, we realized that Eminem had not come in yet. We asked some staff, and they said how he couldn’t come in because security found something on him. I knew right away what they found, and they told us how there was no longer a free bottle for us. We have to pay for the couple drinks we each had. I understood, and started to gather my money to pay the bill. My former manager however, decided that he was going to make a break for the door. He got like three steps and two guys had him by the shoulders.

I finally made my exit from the financial industry and was living a more therapeutic life. My cell phone rang as I was watering my garden and it was Eminem. I answered like, “Hey man, haven’t seen you in a while”, and he was much less friendly. He mentioned how he had tried to take out his profit from the stock package I had set him up with, and they told him there would be a 6% charge. He claimed that I never informed him of this. He was wrong, that was essentially all I informed him of. I told him how if he wanted it in first year, it is 6%, second year, 5%, etc. He said that was no problem because he would leave it in for a while. In four months it gained 25% and he wanted it fast. Six percent of $25,000 is like, what, $1,300, for loaning you $100,000 to make $25,000 in four months. Anyway, he let me know that I deceived him and we weren’t cool anymore.

I haven’t talked to Eminem since and I hope he has kicked the little problem that I feel responsible for enabling. That stuff really does ruin people. I’ve seen young people in their early twenties go all the way down the cocaine path that leads to smoking crack. That stuff really destroys people, but it is a mayor’s choice of drugs. Seriously, mayors love crack.