Just call me Mr. Optimist, or maybe Mr. Confident, potentially the most confident and optimistic human being in this or any world. It’s almost impossible to convey the faith in the future I have displayed through my most recent investment.

I bought a roll of stamps.

Can you feel the joy?? I am now the proud owner of 100 self-adhesive symbols of my Panglossian worldview, a view that includes both my own longevity and the future of humanity. Also, the future of the U.S. Postal Service, which continues to deliver my most important communications six days a week.

Yes, I said important communications, and I’m sticking to that story. Every morning, I open up my email inbox and it’s overloaded with crap. Before my fifth cup of coffee has kicked in, I’m inundated with offers for walk-in bathtubs, urgent pleas from fundraisers, dire warnings from political newsletters, and financial/medical/sexual offers that are just too good to be true. (Really, don’t ask me how I know, but it turns out they’re all just too good to be true.)

Frankly, the assault on my common sense can be demoralizing. But the afternoon brings a burst of sunshine as Corey delivers the printed matter that matters. There are glossy catalogs with pictures of furniture I can’t afford, clothes I’d never fit into, and red-light-camera summonses I’ll probably need to pay. (FTR, those red-light-camera fines are totally unjustified and fake and AI scams, so paying them is not an admission of guilt and State Farm should ignore them on my next renewal.)

It all gives me hope that, someday, I’ll be able to buy one of those 12-foot couches with reclining backs, massagers, and lighted cupholders. And I know all the offers are real, because someone paid big bucks to print and send them to me. None of my online scam artists think I’m worth the money, but at least Best Buy knows I have real potential.

Now, with my glossy new roll of stamps, I can return the favor and give the USPS the funds they need to keep delivering through gloom of night. It’s the least I can do, and it’s absolutely necessary. I can pay my property-tax bill online with a credit card, while paying added fees for the “convenience” of doing so, but there’s no fee involved if I just drop a check in the mail and let the county deal with the paperwork.

It’s a perverse reality that so many creditors charge more for the processes that cost them the least, while I pay less than a buck no matter how large the bill is, but I don’t make the rules. Meanwhile, I’m supporting the economy by keeping people employed as they open my envelopes, sort the paperwork, and process my payment.

With my glorious new roll of stamps, I’m set to continue supporting the postal workforce for at least the next six years. It’s so exciting that I’m giving serious thought to the next leap of ecstasy on my optimistic journey.

I’m actually thinking of buying a new box of checks.

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A costume isn't always a costume and doctors are never satisfied, or at least that's the zeitgeist for this week:

• My server was wearing all black, monster ears, and some kind of bat-like tiara, so I thought about complimenting her on her Halloween costume. Then I realized this might just be how she expresses herself all the time, so I’ll wait and see if she’s dressed the same way in November.
  
• Can we stop pretending that “customer service” bots are a way to reduce costs? The bots merely transfer costs from the provider to the customer, who needs to spend added time listening to prerecorded blather and yell “agent” 20 times until the bot gets the message. Getting rid of the human beings who answer the phone adds to the total cost of every business relationship and damages those relationships along the way.
• I haven’t listened to any new music for about 30 years now, which is making me worse and worse at both Jeopardy and the NYTimes crossword, but that’s the only place it makes any difference. Whenever I’m in an elevator or a grocery store or a doctor’s waiting room, I still feel au courant. It’s really the only time the world gives me a fist bump, but I’ll take it.
• Money’s been tight lately, but I’ve figured out how to keep seeing great shows at local theaters. I just sneak in as everyone is coming back from intermission and nobody checks for tickets before the second act. It’s working like a dream, but could someone explain to me what that Hamlet guy was so upset about?
• I’ve never had a doctor who thinks I’m doing okay with my routines. I say I’m eating fish twice a week and they tell me to make it three. I say I’m getting eight hours of sleep and they tell me to shoot for nine. Last week, I told my doctor I was exercising seven days a week and he told me to make it eight. To tell the truth, I don’t think they’re really listening.
  
• I was walking past the park the other night and I was jolted by the metallic sound of swings hinging back and forth. That’s the sound of nostalgia, now that the grandkids are too old for me to push them, and it recalled one more chapter that’s already closed. As if I needed a reminder: Don’t blink.
• We hardly need to remind you that today is the 100th anniversary of everything that happened on this date 100 years ago today. Be sure to honor the people who gave/did/fought/ran/overindulged on this day by observing it respectfully/happily/solemnly. And don’t forget, tomorrow it will happen again.
• The woman sitting next to me on the plane recommended a restaurant called Las Salivas, which seemed like an odd name to me, but what do I know? Maybe the food’s so good it makes you drool or something. Turns out, she was talking about Los Olivos and I should be sure to ask people to spell things in the future.

 
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After we explained everything our readers need to know about the economy last month, we’ve been inundated with new questions about where we’re headed, especially when it comes to jobs. No surprise there, since everyone who tracks this stuff is reporting a decline in the job market that resembles Wile E. Coyote’s path after he finally looks down.

It’s gotten so bad that even the fake job sites have given up. In July, our inbox was overflowing with “offers” of incredible, high-paying positions. Now, the scammers know nobody is going to believe there are jobs available, so they’ve moved on to GOLD GOLD GOLD GOLD.

So, what’s the straight-skinny, upfront lowdown on the job market today? Glad you asked:

How will I know if my job might be in jeopardy?

You should be just a bit concerned if your job involves customer service, computers, speaking, writing, or, worst of all, journalism. If your job involves putting coffee into a paper cup, driving a bachelorette-party bus, or delivering pizza on a bicycle, you’re safe, at least for now.

My boss says my job is safe. Should I believe her?

How old are you? Really, the answer to that question is always NO. And not just NO. Emphatic NO. Even as you read these words, your boss is working feverishly to downsize your department and hand over your duties to a chatbot. She’s under pressure to keep her job, so canning you seems like a good idea. Of course, she hasn’t figured out that no managers are needed to oversee a chatbot, but that’s her problem and you’ll be long gone when she gets whacked.

Will there be any warning signs that cutbacks are imminent?

Yes, so it’s important to be pay attention to the subtle clues. For instance, if your HR department comes up with new team-building exercises that involve bungee jumping, escape rooms, or trust falls, be very afraid. If the company announces that this year’s Christmas party will be held at Nakatomi Plaza, that’s a red flag, too. And be especially concerned if you’re told to meet your team in a Home Depot parking lot.

Home Depot parking lot? But I’m a citizen.

How old are you? You don’t have to get deported. You’ll only be held for a few days until they let you go, but you’ll have been fired for unexcused absences by then. The CEO can say there have been no layoffs, and there’s no unemployment compensation when you’re fired for cause. Win-win, just not for you.

Maybe I should look for a new job that’s more secure.

That’s an excellent idea, although it’s hard to find great jobs at solid companies. Putting coffee into a paper cup, driving a bachelorette-party bus, and delivering pizza on a bicycle don’t pay very well, so you’ll want to look for a position with better pay and benefits. Just be sure to find a company that doesn’t import or export, has no government contracts, isn’t involved in higher education, and has no AI initiatives in place. Or planned.

You’re not sounding very optimistic about this.

Not true. In fact, this is actually the upside view. You don’t want to know what the pessimistic take is here.

Yikes. Is there any hope at all?

Absolutely. Now that we finally have loyalists generating the country’s job numbers, we can rest assured that employment is going to soar to the greatest, most powerful, incredible levels ever in history, or even beyond history, or more than that. Of course, it goes without saying that your results may vary.

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If not for the divorce, today would have been our 50th anniversary.

I’ll be out of town for a few days to get away from the reminders, but it’s a fool’s errand. I’ll be carrying the memories and the baggage, as always. I'll decompress, eventually, but it's a long journey ahead.

This is terra incognita, a place I never thought I’d visit. We came here slowly, with setbacks and progress, until we arrived at the least-bad option for our specific situation. There are no villains and not a ton of drama, just the steady abrasion that wears away at the foundation until it fails.

A few people thought it helpful to congratulate me on this milestone and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell is wrong with them. A few were offended that they weren't made privy to our challenges along the way. Mostly, though, people have sidestepped the topic and that’s probably for the best. My dad said nobody knows what happens behind closed doors, and he was right. It’s nobody’s business but ours, and there isn’t much to talk about, anyway.

The past is past and we cannot change any of it. It isn’t dead, because it guides us, but it is immutable, incapable of change. We would like to think we would be in a better place if we could have avoided this setback or not suffered that hardship, but that's a foolish notion. We are who we are as a result of--not in spite of--each individual step along the way. Regret is inevitable, because we are human, but it is a wasted effort on a one-way journey.

Looking back, I have all kinds of scars and sadness, but I also see all sorts of crises avoided and bullets dodged. Clearly, we didn’t dodge all of them, but nobody comes through this journey unscathed.

Today, that will need to be enough.
 
 
 

She got off the treadmill, started walking toward me, looked me in the eye, and said, “Hi, how are you doing?”

I didn’t think I knew her, although I’m the guy who had to be introduced to his own relatives at his wedding, so you can never count on me to remember anyone. The important thing was that she remembered me, so I responded that I was doing quite well. Then, I began asking her about her day as she walked past me and out the door.

Damned ear buds.

If there’s ever going to be justice in this world, everyone using earbuds should be required to have a flashing “On Air” sign on their foreheads, letting the rest of us know they’re broadcasting and don’t want us talking to them.

I’ve actually gotten better at it over the years, avoiding the trap of responding to people as if anyone was willing to be seen speaking with me in public. I should know better, of course, but I’m so excited to be acknowledged that I jump into the conversation immediately. Almost invariably, I have not been invited.

I fell for it on this particular day, though, because the woman did something almost nobody ever does. She made eye contact. Yes! Hard to believe, but she actually looked me in the eyes as if she was acknowledging that we were both, what’s that word…people.

Eye contact is absolutely a lost art form. Nobody ever looks at you while crossing the street in front of your car or riding with you on the elevator or, well, pretty much ever. It’s as if everyone got the message that looking into someone’s eyes is worse than staring at a solar eclipse.

Believe it or not, kids, there was actually a time when I’d get called out for looking at my computer screen when someone came into the office for a conversation. That sounds quaint now, as if we aren’t all looking at our phones while saying, “Yes, I’m listening,” to the person who left the room ten minutes ago. 

Actually looking at someone while talking to them adds a degree of intimacy to a conversation, almost as if we were two real human beings communicating with each other in a three-dimensional world.  Crazy, I know, but all the great ideas seem crazy at first.

The pendulum swings, though, and eye contact is bound to come back, just like Hula Hoops and Oregon Trail and Nehru jackets. One of these days, some influencer or rock star will start promoting the healing powers of eye contact and we’ll all be staring at each other like it’s 1999.

Until then, could all of you buy some “On Air” tiaras to wear while you’re using your ear buds? It will save me a ton of embarrassment and that’s a small price for the rest of the world to pay on my behalf.

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Whenever I’m feeling low, abandoned, worthless, weeping at the realization that nobody cares if I live or die, somebody insists that I download their app and my spirit soars.

As far as I can tell, and this is just a rough estimate, I am responsible for $1,289,412.36 in annual commerce and 426 jobs, just based on all the data points I possess. It used to be 837 jobs, but AI eliminated almost half of them.  Without me, the entire economies of seven states would collapse and the multiplier effect would lead to a global depression.

Hear me roar.

This isn’t hyperbole on my part. First, I’ve crunched the numbers several times and the answer is always the same. Second, I don’t know what hyperbole means. It’s just a big word to make me sound smarter. But I don’t need to be that smart to know I’m an exquisite prize to be marketed to the highest bidder.

Every time I search, more than 2,000 companies pay for the right to show me their wares. They don’t pay much per exposure, I know, but those mils and micro-mils add up. By the end of every day, I’ve completed 20-30 searches for various items and the entire data industry is thinking of retiring their Consumer of the Year Award after I’ve won it so many times.

Nobody is making a profit from my data, since they’re paying about $347 in ad costs for every buck I end up spending, but nobody said it would be easy to win my favors. It’s a bit like people playing the lottery every week, blowing $7 million for every $1 million in prize money. Except, this is the Michael Lottery and I’m the prize.

I don’t even need to do a search anymore to keep the global economy running. All I have to do is download an app onto my phone and whoever runs the app will be trafficking in Cryptomichael non-stop. I have 73 apps on my phone and I only use about a dozen of them, but the rest serve an important role in the vast economy of Michaelbits.

If I was being traded like the incredible financial investment I am, my market value would be north of $24 million, or four Lee Majors. I’m so valuable because I’m so multifaceted, a diamond among pearls. The data merchants can make gazillions from my info because I am just that fascinating:

• “Look, he was awake and on his computer at 11:23 p.m.”
• “He’s most likely to look for Cheetos and beef jerky simultaneously.”
• “He’s willing to spend an extra 2.3 cents for two-day delivery.”
• “He’s loves BOGOs for toe fungus gel.”

Really, it just never ends. (Much like this post.)

Of course, like any smart consumer, I always ask the apps and all the websites I visit not to track me, but we all know better and we all enjoy a good laugh. And, with all the bots tracking me, I can never really go missing.

I’m just like George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, except I’m saving Mr. Potter’s data-mining business instead of real people. Also, unlike George, none of the people whose jobs I saved are aware that I am their hero. I know, though, and now you do, too, so that will have to be enough.

I am somebody. I am valuable. I am desired. Yes, it’s only for my data, but I’ll take the win.
 
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