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From the full version of Sunnyside's Lousy Book.

Got to find a job

Looking for a job really changed my attitude. The thought of the bust just being a prank the town had played on me transformed quite abruptly. It was serious matter and it became a frustrating experience looking for a job, because while searching for work, I'd hear people at most of the places say stuff like I was going to either jail or prison. Just as the time I found a labor type job in the help wanted ads asking for a laborer to maintain rental housing. I meet the owner at a rental property, and as I was being interviewed, I overheard an employee make a remark to the owner that I wasn't going to be around very long because I was going to be spending time in prison.
      The word "prison" put a spin on things, but I realize that in order to pass off the rumor, the cops may have had to go around saying that the reason I was under surveillance was that they were afraid I'd skip bail.
      The owner had me fill out an application. I'm sure it was just an easy way for him to tell me he didn't want to hire me, because I've been around long enough to know that guys offering a job for only $7.50 per hour don't normally use job applications -- especially after the personal interview is over. The application gave him the opportunity to turn me away by only having to say, "I'll give you a call."
      It didn't take long to figure out I was having jobs chased out from underneath me. It made sense to me that my phone was bugged and they would show up at the prospective job contact before I would arrive. They would warn the potential job contacts of a villain that would most likely arrive. I'm sure they must have told them that I was a drug dealer or something even worse. It could have been done in a simple manner as having another guy show up looking for a job and casually mentioning a painter was in a lot of trouble and in the area looking for a job. I'm sure they found a way to influence the contact to think that they'd be doing themselves a favor if they didn't hire me. The problem was: How could I prove that the local government was chasing jobs out from underneath me?

One of the job prospects I called on was at a place north of Tacoma on the northwest corner of Auburn. Although I was qualified for the job, I noticed it required a drug screening test. I figured there was about a 50/50 chance I would be clean enough to pass such a test. This gave me an idea and thought I’d find out if the people in the Federal Way, Auburn area were aware of whom I was.
      So I headed north and while on the way, I checked out at a couple auto body shops in Federal Way. The managers of the body shops seemed like they didn't have a clue about me and just as expected because I hadn't called them before arriving.

When I arrived at the equipment painting place in the Auburn area, I noticed two squad cars in the parking lot. Strangely enough, they were from the Des Moines police department. I saw no major dents in them so it appeared to me that they weren’t there for bodywork or paint. They appeared to be out of place and my intuition told me there was a good chance they were there because of me. The next question that came to mind was question to whether they were there for repairs or not was: Were the officers present?

Once inside, I was introduced to the shop foreman and he introduced me to the manger of the company. Then I was asked to fill out an application on what appeared to be a conference table in a room behind the front office. While I was filling out the application, I could overhear a conversation in the room next to where I was sitting. The shop foreman was having a discussion with the manger of the company. During their conversation, they were asking one another, “Do you think he is the guy with the blue Dodge truck?” “I’m not sure.” (Get this: I was driving my old rust bucket Chevy.)
     I was interviewed by the shop foreman and was somewhat surprised when he wanted to hire me. I figured the only reason he was saying so was either because they didn't see a blue Dodge truck in the parking lot, or they were only offering $7.50 per hour, or they knew I wouldn't pass the drug test anyway. Also there was a stipulation that I would have to pay $30 for the drug test beforehand and that they would only reimburse the cost of the test after being employed by them for over 90 days. Well as you can guess, I wasn't in favor of wasting my own thirty dollars and of course I didn't think they'd grant me a special favor by let-ting me take a drug test at a later time.
     As I was on my way out of the front office area, I again ran into the manager. Since I had nothing to lose, I told the manager I had just quit smoking pot about a month beforehand and asked him if it was possible for me to wait a month before having to take the drug screen test so my body would have a chance to clean out. He said that he couldn't because it was an insurance requirement and they couldn't have me work there without it.
     The next thing I noticed was that two cops had made their way to the conference table where the interview had taken place. I realized the place was clearly a setup and the best think I could do is steer things up so people would talk. I decided I was going to dump a spiel on him. I came right out and asked him if he had known about me beforehand, but denied knowing anything about me. Of course I knew he was lying because of the conversation he had with the foreman in the adjoining room next to the conference table. My guess was that the cops had been hiding out in the adjoining room to the conference table and that they were the ones who had information about the guy with the blue truck.
      I felt there was a good chance that the cops who were clearly out of their jurisdiction were involved in the conspiracy and they were there for the very purpose of dogging me. One thing for sure, I knew it wouldn't hurt to let everyone nearby in the office know about what was going on. I knew all I had to do was play into what they’d want to “talk” about and make sure the part about the fire was included.
     Far from a cleaver planed out idea, my actions came partly by accident and partly by intuition. I decided to give them something they would run their mouths off with. I raised my voice so that I would be a distraction to everyone around in the office. Right off the bat told the manager and the open ears about my fire and the conspiracy that fallowed.
      Even though most people would consider what I was saying as a far-fetched story and I realized he and everyone else there wanted to listen to my spiel. The secretary sitting at the front desk next to us seemed quite amused and the smile on her face looked quite devious. I figured there was a good chance she had a answering machine on recorder mode to capture what I was saying.
     I even got into a spiel about being chased around in the world’s greatest work truck and how I was going to strip the hydraulics off it but didn't get a chance to because I found myself in jail and the truck in a police impound yard. I even mentioned the drugs they had managed to put in my water.
     Although I didn't get into any detail of how the hydraulics were used or what the invention was, my spiel turned into a bit about how patents could be stolen. This brought even greater attention from the cops in the back room. Since I wasn't losing any of my audience's interest, I explained how easily phony paper work documenting inventions could be produced and how patents can be stolen by someone using a public notary to back date proof of conception of an invention. I said it in a way that would lead a person to believe that the way the patent laws are set-up, a private inventor could just as well throw away the idea of getting a patent and that the odds of making money off their invention would be just as good by getting incorporated and get-ting the product on the market first.
     Suddenly a big devious smile appeared on the manager's face. It was as if I had just said what he wanted to hear. Finding out how devious he really was, really pissed me off. I was so alarmed; I could feel the blood pumping in my head. I felt like busting the guy in the nose, but the only thing that held me back from blowing my cool was the fact that the cops were right there. His continuous smile told me I didn't need to say anything more.
     Part of the intention of the spiel was to see if I could convince him to bend the rules. I figured he might want to hire me so he would have a better chance at find out more about the truck in question. So I asked him again, "Do you suppose you could do me a favor let me wait awhile before I take the drug test?" He replied, "No." Then I turned and walked out the door.
     Most of the spiel shouldn't have made much sense, because the material was really out in left field somewhere, but I knew it was all I had to leave them with. It was the kind of stuff that you would have to know something about what I was saying before you could make any sense of it. Although I didn't tell him what my inventions were and he wasn't supposed to be aware of any, it was obvious he had been informed about me in some way. The things I said about patent laws had no significance because I had built a proto-type and phony paper couldn't be written against it.
      Even though they weren't supposed to know anything about me, my intuition told me I’d hear about incident once I got back into Tacoma. I figured it was a good way to prove that the conspirators were chasing jobs out from underneath me. Sure enough, once I got back home, there were kids out in the street in front of my house yelling, "He threw it away!" and "He abandoned it!” I even over heard the old man next door say, “He'll probably hang himself on the chain hoist.”
      I had to look abandonment up in my "Patent it yourself" book to understand what they were yelling about. A good question to ask is where would such young kids get the word "abandonment" from?

Over the phone following the strange incident, I expressed the difficulties I was having finding a job to John. He suggested looking for a job insulating homes because there was always work available for insulators. He was right because I landed a job insulating homes with a couple phone calls. I can assume the reason I even got the job was because I was more or less hired over the phone before anyone was able interfere..
      Once meeting with the manager of the company I learned that the job was for only $7.00 hour and good for $9.00 in only a week or two, but I realized that by time I’d make it to doing it by the footage, that I’d be better off doing it a the $11.00 mark.
      The boss didn’t seem to mind me having to take the day the third day off to go to court for a marijuana conviction, but I feel it’s not exactly how you want to start a new job.

I'm sure the conspirators were hoping I'd decide it would be a waste of money to file patent applications on my inventions. Of course they knew any money I could get my hands on would be precious because the job they let me get didn't even pay enough to pay my bills and they knew it. And having to miss the second day of work at a new job for a court appearance isn’t exactly the way to keep a steady job. I needed to get the finances to push the patent applications through, but I was afraid of falling into debit trying to. I needed to keep out of trouble and at the same time make the crooks uncertain about my ability to succeed.
     I wondered if I would ever see my truck again and if not, would I ever have the money to own another one just like it. The one thing in my favor was that there was ton of steel the conspirators had to deal with.
     Then there was another part of me that was confident it didn't matter if I ever saw my truck again because what really mattered was that I was the one who created it. I knew the value of the invention and I knew very well I was the one who was entitled to the patent rights to it. I knew if I could beat the conspirators at the game, I could have as many trucks as I would ever want. Of course if my lawyer would've finished the patent application and filed it by then I wouldn’t have had near as much stress on my mind.

What troubled me was that the word on the street was saying I was going to jail. (I realize now it was just an effort to try to get me to commit suicide.) During the previous superior court appearance, the court appointed attorney had negotiated a plea bargain deal for me. The deal was to plead guilty, pay a large fine and to get stuck with having to perform community service. I was told that if my case went to trial, I could be incarcerated up to 90 days -- and if the issue of the guns were brought in on it -- there was a possibility of me serving up to a year. Since it was in the middle of winter, the fine alone would have set me back for a long time and therefore a postponement of the trial was what I favored. I felt, the longer I could to wait to pay the crooked local government the money, the better off I would be.

A three month sentence was what the word on the street was saying. It made sense because if it was more than three months, I would most likely be going to prison and that is where the city would have less control upon what was going on around me. The problem was how could I pay my bills while being tied up in their county jail for that long? Although my court appointed attorney and her assistant said that I shouldn't have to serve any jail time, I couldn't trust their predictions. I figured if they knew I was going to spend time in jail, they sure weren't about to tell me, because they would naturally think I’d skip town. Since I had a conspiracy at hand, I knew anything could happen. I was also afraid they’d trump up new charges or as I figured -- there was a good possibility that testimonies from the narks Rodney had set me up with-- would make good on the intent to sale charge.

The next chapter of Sunnyside's Lousy Book is:

Catch Twenty Two

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