Beef & C3PO

Today started out off with a buzz of excitement and an air of inspiration. Through the Internet machine doohickey I had found some business-networking group that met at 8.30am. After nearly two weeks of my brain rotting from doing pretty much nothing I was excited to get out there, network with new people and find me a job!

I donned my finest attire and leapt into Squirrel. The group said they met at ‘Beef O’Bradys’ some sort of bar I guess, odd for a breakfast network group but hey this is Florida. I punched the beef into Waze and C3PO directed me to my destination, which was luckily only a few miles up the road, or so I thought. After passing many strip malls largely indistinguishable from each other I pulled into a rather quiet Beef O’Brady’s parking lot. Sure enough after trying the locked door and checking my phone I realized I was in the wrong location. Who knew there were two Beef O’Bradys! It was around 8.25am, the new destination was across town with an approximate ETA of right on 9am, bollocks to it I thought. I’m out; I’m dressed so I may as well go for it, I’m sure these meets last for at least an hour, plenty of time for me to schmooze.

Off we headed, just me, Squirrel and the alluring voice of C3PO. After another wrong turn on the freeway (I’m sure R2 would do better) and driving all the way across Tampa I arrived at another strangely empty Beef O Brady’s parking lot. Another locked door greeted me and my heart sank. Not only were there more than two Beef O’Bradys, there were a bloody chain of them! I was at the south version of namesake’s street address.

I gave up. Pissed off; mainly at C3PO and myself. I knew there was no point in heading to the mixer now, so with my tail between my legs I headed back home. At least the second task of the day, mailing a letter to California, provided hope for a sense of accomplishment. Sure enough once said post office had been located behind yet another strip mall I had managed to achieve something. A quick run to Dollar General for some 2-dollar trash bags, a 50 ft. garden hose and some plastic cups were all I needed to return slightly less depressed from my failings. Luckily the Mrs. was still in her bond girl esque robe as she bounded about the house eating granola. It was barely 10am and things were starting to look up!



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