Euro Truck Simulator is a game about office space.
A long time ago I got involved in a high school small business class. I needed an elective and it seemed easy enough. I figured, "How hard could small business be?"
The teacher was a large black man. I have a hard time remembering faces of the past but I remember personalities and mannerisms well enough. He shook like Santa when he laughed at his own corny jokes. He was a patient man - never spoke until at least thirty seconds after someone had finished speaking. He was super space aware - I noticed he would stand exactly two feet from a student and would periodically look to the ground to calibrate.
The second week of class he sent around a hat with folded paper in it. The company described on the piece of paper the student pulled determined the company they ran. I picked a trucking company, the guy next to me ran a laundromat. Such is life.
I sat in the back of his class, pretending to not pay attention. In reality, it was my favorite class. Creating the market strategy, securing shipping contracts, ordering from vendors, negotiating tire price, multi-tasking, stressing over how many times my drivers were stopping to poop. It was all I never knew I wanted.
The teacher took note of my passion and threw more at me. Initially, I believed it was because he didn't like me, but later realized he was testing my limits. He saw I enjoyed running an imaginary business but wanted me to understand that I could actually run a company in RL.
Unfortunately, we had a personal disconnect. He took umbrage that I would come into class everyday pants sagging, reeking of marijuana, with a spicy attitude that projected, "Like I give a fuck."
He wasn't a fan, and he let me know constantly. I wasn't a fan of him not being a fan. I believed he was being paid to teach me how to run a small business, not to teach me to be me, and I told him as much.
One thing led to another, which led to me being kicked out of his class. I wasn't worried about it. I carried a 3.5 GPA across all the classes I needed to graduate. He was just an elective. Our relationship never recovered. When we would pass each other in the halls he would stare and shake his head, I would smile with the smug maliciousness only a teenage face can create.
Years later I walked into the offices of a big tech company for an interview. My previous gaming industry experience made me comfortable in my skin and confident of my value. I walked into the VP of marketings office wearing a button up shirt, my lucky blue windbreaker with "Oddysey" printed on the back, pants sagging lightly, Black Chuck Taylors on my feet.
I figured if I pretended to be someone I am not to get the job by wearing a uniform I imagine they would like, I would have to sustain that, which would be the first lie I tell the company. Starting off behind in the game by your own choice is not fun, so I don't bother.
The interviewer was a middle-aged Italian man. He looked like a mob dad working a side gig. Warm eyes with the cold aftertaste. Pragmatic: wanted numbers and action items before any personal chat. His body language screamed, "I couldn't be less threatened by you, only moneymakers exist to me: if you prove your worth you are a made man."
The interview went well. We vibed, I understood what he was looking for and clearly explained how I would go get that for him. At the end of the interview, he thanked me for my time and asked if I had any questions. My question was simple, "Is there a dress code?" His response was simple, "Are you joking?"
Anyway, I hope information is ready to shake the pillars of heaven. The video game blues brothers, getting the band back together. Meh, it's something to do. Also JOBS.
The Protoculture Mixtape : Issue : People : Sieve
