I am not a happy camper right now.
On Friday I got a call from a friend of Stacey. She had given him my name and so he called to arrange a meeting to see if I would be interested in a business that was expanding in the area. Cool. So we set up a time to meet at Starbucks today.
My first tip off that this wasn't on the level was his glossing over the name of the business and what they do exactly. But do I pay attention to my gut? No. I was having the same feeling when I was scouted for some internet company last year. I bailed out on that meeting when the guy talked about going to some workshop and paying for it. Mentorship. Passive income. Earning $50,000+ in the first year. --Yeah right.
So I go to Starbucks and I spot Stacey's friend. He's with two other people and it's pretty evident he's not the one that is going to talk to me. Tubbo is. Tubbo did. And Tubbo pulled out the same damn pamphlet that I saw last year. Fucking hell! Of course, I'm too polite to tell him that I've heard this vague bullshit before. And stupid ass me agreed to go to a meeting on Tuesday night. *bangs head on desk* I'm way too nice. I'm way too nice. I'm way too nice.
You know, if it wasn't for Stacey's connections I probably would have told them no just like I did the first time. But I don't want it getting back to her that I wouldn't give her guy a shot.
And then to cap off my evening my car decided that it needs to be taken into the shop for some parts replacement. I'm probably looking at $200 down the drain. With my experience with Saturn, I've learned to double what I estimate the cost should be and to quintuple it for what they think needs to be done. Dad told me to drive my sister's car. Ummm... that has more serious problems waiting to blow up. And I mean that literally. So no. I think Bob is releasing some bad karma on his readers. :-P