Tip, Please? Success Blog #5



I had never been part of anything before…I had the resemblance of no one. I was represented as no one, and I sure didn’t have a place to fill in society. This was an opportunity of a life time, finally a place for me to be wanted. I stared down at what surely could end in disaster, but I had nothing to lose.

I was standing on the fourth floor of a rustic old building, south of Broadway St. in New York. I went to work everyday and after my tasks were completed, I would leave the premise. It wasn’t really like working a job, especially as low of a position I held in the corporation. It was a corrupt task, and I always found ways to work around it. I would come at 6pm and start my duties hoping to be out of the shit hole by midnight. I swept, I mopped, I brushed, I waxed, and my favorite duty-cleaning up after the pigs. But I did remain quiet around them, for they were the executives who were just being served dinner in the mess hall.  They were crazy, but kept to themselves. I was nothing to them, and they meant nothing to me. I had overheard them mentioning my name once before, but they were now tossing it up again. I inched my head little by little, until I was looking at all of them. Their eyes glistened in the dimly lit room. I scowled, but I received friendly responses in return. The whole time I worked there, the pigs didn’t acknowledge me once. But now…this “animal farm” wanted to be sensible. My eyes were locked on them, I would not turn away. But they wanted to talk. They wanted something from me. “What do you want?” I murmured. Hands raised to guide me over to the eating area. I could still smell faint scents of turkey from dinner that had escaped the enclosed platters. Their eyes gazed to the food and pointed to the trays. What were they trying to show me? I trudged over, my eyes aimed at the trays’ metallic color-reflecting in the faintly lit room. I scanned the surface, everything seemed to be normal. Perhaps I would look above. The thermometer happened to be coded with digits of money-not temperature. In a flash, my muscles contracted, I couldn’t help but to grin. These executives were just as corrupt as me. They wanted me part of their businessand I wanted in.

Their mission was to steal as much money in one night, with help from co-operants who worked in other floors of the building. Food would be slid by so easy without anyone acknowledging it. As I finished my duties, I would be in the hands of thousands of dollars, that rested in a part of the food trays. I would distribute the money evenly, but since I was the janitor, I would be the one with dirty hands. It would happen tomorrow night. In this manner, we would have enough time to prepare, but not enough time for enemies to be expecting anything. My state of mind intensified, this could be my chance to make something out of my life. Although, the consequences were high. Stealing from our own company could cost us big time, including legal trouble such as jail. Was my life worth giving up? I pushed forward, and decided I would be missed by no one. I would miss this opportunity myself if I didn’t go for it. If we were successful, I would not be who I was today…

At 6 pm I entered the building the next day, to assess my duties for the night. I walked in as normal, and made sure to make my presence known. I scuffed my husky jeans together in between my legs. My yellow cleaning basket creaked in the hallway down to the mess hall. One by one, the wheels vibrated over each tile, as I came closer to the cafe. My veins were showing, my pulse-through the roof. I would keep calm…I would take the trays as usual. I entered the premises and scanned the mess hall. All the pigs were in place as usual, chowing down on a bowl of chicken soup tonight. In the meantime I mopped, glancing up occasionally to check on their status. They seemed to enjoy their soup much more than usual, and there was good reason for it. At about 6:30 I agreed it was time, and turned in their location to take the trays. “Why thank you…sir.” I could be called sir all I want, but they wouldn’t actually mean it unless the job was done. I stabbed back, and announced, “tip please?” I mean, for all this hard work I would be doing, there was no reason I couldn’t be tipped. The pigs glanced at one another in awe. I would do what they asked, but I was also taking a stand for myself. The fattest pig ruffled around in his pocket, and pulled out a crinkled bill which had the resemblance of a 100. “I better get change…” he uttered. “Oh you will,” I smiled. I then grabbed the trays one by one, placed them on top of my yellow cart, and walked in the opposite direction. I could feel their eyes fixed on my back, behind me. I came to the sink room, and entered slowly, making sure the coast was clear. I would do it here-behind the kitchen in the sink room. In this way, I could exit the building from the back, and be out. I reached around to find the compartment, and in less than a second, I could feel the cloth. Even as a janitor, I probably knew more than the executives did. That money is not paper, but rather cloth-the feel is distinctive. My eyes gazed down at what looked to be 10000 dollars per stack. I threw the blessing into my yellow cart, which would never be recognized as a hiding spot. I then cleaned up the trays, and slowly stepped down the back exit. My duties were done, and whether or not I would actually give the pigs the money…well that’s up to you to figure out.

How I Got Away With Murder

Success in Murder Blog #3 

Bullets trickled to the floor like a jumbled kids game of jacks. Hollow cases shimmered in the evening sunset. I counted 4 shells…but there could have been more. The number didn’t matter. What mattered was “he” was gone. I had succeeded. I briskly zipped up my .20 caliber rifle, and was off.

I had lived through a terrible college experience in my few years I spent at Harvard Medical School. My family wanted me to take after my father, but a doctor was not what I really wanted to be. Although, I remained in every science class until the end of that year. Books filled my room, along with personal information, to fill out internship applications to local newspapers-hoping to be granted my real opportunity. My roommate was quiet and kept to himself most of the time. He spent a lot of time in “that” room, and I tried to stay out as much as possible. Avoiding his presence is what I did. It wasn’t that I was provoked by him. I felt the need to give him just as much space as he gave me. I believed the whole point of a roommate was to not build a strong personal relationship between the two individuals. But, it almost was a way of letting him progress towards his goal.

I came back one late night from the library to see a look of shock on his face. Arms to the side, body fully erect, and his face flushed with a seemingly white color to it.

“What’s wrong dude?”


I spun a 180 and walked out that door again and decided I’d come back once again, still later. That time would never come, because by distancing myself all these months between him and I, “It” was able to obtain all my information. What made me-me…my identity. In a matter of a day, I quite fortunately dropped out of school, hoping to achieve my goal of finding that rat bastard and put him in his place. I knew why he wanted me. My father was in the hands of a whole medical corporation, hoping to send out a new drug in the next few months. And once that drug had come out, and I was done with my last year of schooling, all that extra money from sales and stocks would go to me-his son. Money was the only gift he seemed to be able to give to me. We didn’t have a strong bond, and this was his way of justifying our link together. What was rightfully mine, I didn’t even want. Money was being spent on an education I did not approve of…but I certainly did not approve of some stranger being granted this money that most certainly would be considered mine. And what was worse-he had everything to say who “he” was, was actually me.

Things were tense with my dad, and school, and law enforcement, so I decided to go about this mission independently. For years, copious amounts of money were being wired from my Dad’s business to “it”. Even when I tried to be productive, missed calls were all I received from him. He still thought it was the money I was after. Limitless amounts would be transferred over daily. Amounts I couldn’t even comprehend or know of, because I did not have the sources to be proactive in this type of situation. I was just a regular college student now broke from forgery, identity theft, and rent bills themselves. It all seemed like a blur at first… a gloomy haze that couldn’t be real. But 10 years had gone by without a trace of it.

10 years later…

I came home from work after a stressful day at the office, trudging to the steps of my one room apartment door. Everything seemed to be normal. All was quiet, but I seemed to still enjoy quiet to this day. I kicked the rust filled metal door and let it sway open as the gust of wind engulfed us both. I hoped to see lovely rustic furniture. Some mahogany colored tables, and furnished wooden floors. Something all that money could have finally bought me. There’s nothing like that sweet smell of wood bringing back memories from Mom and Pop’s house. Cheerful gazes would be given to me as I stepped foot in from school, and I usually would be greeted with a plate of food due to my Italian cultured background. But this was different. I did not even smell a faint lingering odor of myself. I dropped my bags, and bolted for the kitchen. Gun in hand, I crept slowly around the corner. Muffling sounds could be heard in my bedroom…the only other way out. “It” had already jumped, somehow surviving the two story fall. I knew what “it” wanted, and “it” was back for more…                     The door had still stayed open, being absorbed in by the gusts. I almost tripped out the door, but this time I would not lose. I furiously flew up to the third flight of stairs, which paved the way to the rooftop…overlooking the town. Although he was in a distance, there was no way he could get away now. He was in full view, as I knelt down and cocked back my firearm. This was it. Something I had seemed to be waiting for forever.

Bullets trickled to the floor like a jumbled kids game of jacks. Hollow cases shimmered in the evening sunset. I counted 4 shells…but there could have been more. The number didn’t matter. What mattered was “he” was gone. I had succeeded. I briskly zipped up my .20 caliber rifle, and was off.



Blog #2 Success

Success in Business-with my own touch


As I was pondering about what to write in my secondary blog, I stumbled upon this intriguingly designed advertisement. You know, those ones you sneer at on the side of your web browser. The ones that illuminate right as you have visited a new site. You try furiously to click away as they have bugged but one second out of your day. Yet somehow us humans let the little things get to us…But this ad happened to catch my eye. It’s beautifully crafted colors just happened to spark an idea, of a plan of how success can be found in business. It is almost like a blueprint of how a business should run and how it gets processed.

The first step: Create

You have a wonderful idea, but how can it be successful? Your plan should be to come up with the most unique of an idea as possible. This is your time to shine, and anything that goes down-you WILL go down with. This is your work of art. Use it wisely

The second step: Beautiful

You have created your work of art, now make it beautiful. You might say, you have already created your work… Wrong answer. YOU have not done anything. You have not stepped foot out into the business world as an owner at all yet. You have only gotten to step two in the process. I’m trying to reassure you in the most respectful manner possible…no harsh feelings

Step three: Website

Your rounding third base, and your art has become a beaut. If you’ve made it this far… well so have thousands of others. Nothing will set you apart until after the blueprints. Your business is just a work in the making, ready to be taken or copied at any second. Keep your work secretive and remember-one of a kind. Start networking, spread your idea through word of mouth and through the use of websites. You want people to be able to find you.

Step four: Go

You’ve reached all the bases and have taken it all with you. Now don’t stop…GO! You want to be able to run with your idea and don’t back down. A business is not just a business. You should be running right along side it. It is your partner, your friend, someone who only lets you down if you are not loyal to them. This is your one moment, your one opportunity, would you take it? Or just let it slip…