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Rolling down the island interstate it hit me that i’m as free as a bird. I reached behind the seat and pulled two ice cold beers. I’m not a day drinker but today was one of those days. I passed a cold one across to Crunkbait my chauffeur and toasted to a perfect Monday, my absolute favorite day of the week. True they are all my favorite days but today was impossibly perfect, then again so was yesterday as I expect will be tomorrow as well.
I’ve made my fair share of mistakes in this world and still have no idea how I have been so fortunate as to live in this island paradise yet here I am. I did some fancy bartering today and earned 36 bucks in a quick hour and a half, made my way to a new friends house to consult on a zip-line for the kids and at precisely 2:30 pm was enjoying a frosty beverage. I met a guy last summer who told me he works as hard as he can 51 weeks a year to save enough money to come to the islands for one week. I could never do it It would take me at least a month just to unwind before I could settle into this awkwardly slow pace that I call my life.
My daily comute is walking down a cow pasture to the boatyard, my cubicle, the boat shed. My boss is slave driver but also a lazy SOB who is far more concerned with island exploration and socializing than actually getting anything accomplished in this world. Its good to be self employed, even if I only make chicken scratch it supports my freedom in grand style. I’m good for no more than three hours a day and thats a stretch.
Yep they look down on me saying when will that poor lazy bastard ever grow up and do something productive with his life. If working three hour days 3 days a week isn’t productive I don’t know what is. Its a beautiful day for a nap, think I’ll find a bit of grass and sun myself like a turtle on a log.
An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.
The Mexican replied, “only a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.” The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”
To which the American replied, “15 – 20 years.”
“But what then?” Asked the Mexican.
The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions!”
“Millions – then what?”
The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”