I was accepted once.
2017, a quick congratulations from a pretty decent getup up in the North West, and overly ambitious sending of money to bad realtors- now that’s acceptance. They were both happy to have the likes of me in their ranks, you know? Good credit goes a long way when you don’t got shit. But anyway, let me tell you some words of wisdom as if I were 84 years old: these days it’s not being accepted if they don’t offer you something too. I waited for that damn merit money like I was guaranteed more than an, “Okay, you’re okay, you can come read our books.”
That letter meant nothing. I knew I was getting in, don’t fool yourself, you know I’m better than average. Whatever though, no money for me. That’s okay, I want to go raise chickens in Texas more than I want to expect a higher salary from jobs I wont get hired for anyway.
The guy told me today to keep an open mind on coming to read anyway, and maybe, who knows, he can’t make any promises, but some money may trickle down. Sorry, man, but I already told that lady to shove my money in the mailbox of the apartment I just gave up. You’d have to apologize for me, I guess. But yeah yeah yeah- I really don’t want to shovel snow for places that don’t actually accept me.
By the way.
I lied earlier. I’ve been accepted before,
but you know,
recent stings make for better fish tales.