My Bad Luck At Work

Am I like this guy? (Oh wowsie wowsie woo woo. Miserable day, isn't it?) Indeed I am...

Am I like this guy? (Oh wowsie wowsie woo woo. Miserable day, isn’t it?) Indeed I am…

I have a nasty, recurring dream. In this dream, I’m at the craziest, most deranged Hot Fire Sale in History. Everything has been marked down to 99 cents. The guy next to me steps up to the sales register and walks (or rather drives) out of the store with a spanking brand new Porsche. An elderly lady buys a top of the line, next-gen supercomputer, just pouring the contents of her purse on the counter. Everybody’s happy with their purchases.

Except me.

I’m holding an item in my hands, the only article in the entire store I want to buy… and it’s marked at 59 dollars and 99 cents. The first time I had this dream was when I desired to buy the expansion for the Diablo II computer game. Of course, the dream changes subtly, expressing my current wish for a certain object, which inevitably becomes unattainable because it’s the only one that isn’t for sale at 99 cents.

I don’t need a Freudian head-shrinker to tell me what’s the symbolism behind it; I never get what it’s my heart’s desire. By The Way, it’s just my Bad Luck operating at its fullest.

When I was a kid, I recall seeing on TV a very craptacular Flintstones’ spin-off showcasing Pebbles and Bam-Bam as teenagers. They would go all around their hometown of Bedrock, having several madcap adventures with their teenaged buddies. Of these friends, I remember Badluck Schleprock most fondly, since the guy had the worst luck in the whole show. It was very funny… until I realized with the passing years I was slowly becoming him. Ever since I became ten, I noticed a horrible streak of bad luck following me. First, being born in this God Accursed country where no one has a future. And where no one is able to find an escape… As if that wasn’t enough…

Sure, don’t believe me; but I can imagine that your father had some beautiful illusions built upon you, perhaps seeing you as a successful doctor, lawyer or architect while they drooled over the edge of your crib. The plans that my father’s had in store for me? That I should spoon-feed him in his old age and change his adult diapers. That’s about it. Period. No successful career, nothing. Just that.

That I became his personal slave during his declining years. If that isn’t bad luck…

I don’t need any proof of my ill fortune. But during the last two weeks it was doing its best to remind me it was still around. Two weeks ago, I went through hell to get a review for one of my books. I met a great reader online, who was capable of dealing with a book every 36 hours or so.

I dusted off one of my little-reviewed books, hoping for the best, but only after ensuring that this woman enjoys MontyPython-style humor. I sent her an e-mail, providing her with a Smashwords discount coupon so she could grab a copy.

Well, everything nice so far…She had quite a To Be Read (TBR) list, but I was in the eight place of it and she was progressing nicely through it… until it was my turn. First, she complained of having a bad episode of her chronic migraine. I went: ‘Uh-oh. Here it comes.” My bad luck extending its tendrils, affecting people who wish to help me, even at a 5000 miles distance.

She stopped reading for a couple of days.

Next, her cat did something to her scalp (details are uncertain), which caused her to keep away from reading my book for another three days. Now, don’t get me wrong; I love cats (especially with ketchup) but this incident was making me want to place an order of extra sets of anti-personnel cat landmines and lay them in someone’s backyard.

The following, day, she moved my book down in her TBR list because the book of another author showed up in her mail. Since she had told this guy she would review it, well, she felt urged to keep up with her promise.

Of course, this doesn’t end in just another day (or two) delay. She went on into a small flame war with this last author, just over a few details she remarked about his book. It left such a bad taste in her mouth that she nearly stopped with reading altogether.

This whole mess lasted almost eleven days. Eleven days until she finally posted a review. This, from someone used to speed-read on a book-per-day basis.

And I got a neat 4-star review…

If that isn’t bad luck…


Edwin Stark

Signing Off

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