Phone in front right, wallet and keys in front left. When I’m not at work, that’s basically it.
I wear a small satchel at work; I keep a water bottle, clipboard, and notepad in the main storage compartment. My satchel has a few side pockets as well; one holds my pens and markers, the second holds a box cutter and a pair of gloves, and the last one holds a small first-aid kit.
Generally, bad movies won’t have pre-release reviews, period. I couldn’t tell you about this particular decision, though.
Reviewers were asked not to talk directly about the writing or characters, at least according to the review I heard on NPR a few days ago. Probably has a lot to do with it.
I’d remove my personal need for sleep, making it completely voluntary. But I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I could use an extra eight hours of free time every day.
Oh yeah, same exact vibe I’m going for. I willingly own a Cadillac Cimarron.
Well, my “if I won the lottery” fantasy only requires a few million. One by one, I’d tell my mates to come check out my new place, which turns out to be a condo at Circuit of the Americas. While we’re overlooking my collection of mint-condition shitbox cars that have no reason to be preserved, I’d hand them a check for enough money to wipe out their debts and buy a house… along with a non-disclosure agreement.
Then I’d disappear for a while, taking a road trip around the country without any sort of financial or scheduling concerns. Just show up in a random city, spend a few weeks seeing all the sights at my own pace, then moving along whenever I feel like it.
Going from millions to billions, I doubt I’d deviate from that plan too much. Once I’ve got myself and my mates set for life, I guess I’d set the remaining 4.9 billion pounds aside for any impulse buys, like an F1 team or a couple hundred politicians.
Driving a Trabant through the desert. Occasionally shooting rabid bunnies.
I was a truck driver a few years ago, working on a dedicated account that had me rapidly experiencing burnout. 14-hour days, sleeping in the truck. I was supposed to work 5 days a week, but more often than not, I’d have to work a 6th day to end up at my house. I technically got weekends off, but I had to go back to work at 12:01 on Monday morning, to stay on time. I was in a death spiral for a while there.
One morning, having overslept, I’d let myself get into a rush, and I’d backed my truck into a parking bollard at my first pickup. Damaged my hood, bumper, mirrors, and a bunch of other important bits. My truck was going to be in the shop for a few weeks, at least.
After my safety department got their pound of flesh, my dispatcher gave me some alternative work in the meantime, covering for an absent driver in a local position. Said position involved doing shuttle runs for a nearby factory, just taking truckloads of their product to a warehouse a few miles away, dropping them off, and bringing empty trailers back to the factory. No appointments, no paperwork, no live unloads. Just showing up and driving, for an hourly wage instead of mileage. 8-hour shifts, without having to sleep on the truck. A diamond in the rough I didn’t even know my compamy offered.
I asked to be moved to that position, and I was instantly approved, since dispatch wanted to replace that other driver anyway. That was late February 2020; shortly after I got acclimated to the new digs, the pandemic hit. I didn’t lose my job; my trucking company kept all of their shuttle drivers on-site at the factory. Said factory only ran a skeleton crew though, not putting out enough product to keep all of us busy. None of the drivers complained though, we embraced getting paid to sit on our asses with open arms.