Today I went over some papers and realized:
I am free.
Step into my world and have a look around, dear reader. But don’t remove the plastic sheets from the sofa. And take your shoes off. Yeah I know it’s pretentious. I don’t care.
Imagine that the worst comes to the worst (short of the actual end of the world). I am hounded out of my job under suspicion of holding offensive (though accurate) beliefs, or by an absurd accusation hurled by a loser colleague with an insufferable wife and a great bloody fungus-covered log on his shoulder. I expect something like this to happen one day and you should, too.
Imagine I am barred from working in my profession globally, forever. This would be almost certain because it is dominated by just three corporate players who coordinate their HR blacklists and who share a Nouveau Stasi world view. It seems like curtains for poor old Nikolai, doesn’t it? I’ll post a mournful farewell on my blog and disappear into that invisible abyss where all the other purged Crime-thinkers go.
But wait! If they let it come down tomorrow, the outcome would annoy my enemies intensely.
Because from today, I am free.
If all the above comes to fruition on Monday morning, I will:
- Finalize my bills, pack my bags and leave the country. I have emergency funds to cover all associated costs at short notice.
- Set myself up in a cheap country, find an inexpensive but comfortable apartment, identify affordable local food and secure a good deal on WiFi. My emergency savings will also accommodate these items.
- Drink, take recreational drugs, frequent nearby beaches, amuse and entertain the local girls, participate in inexpensive hobbies and perhaps do a bit of easy, shit-kicking work for some extra cash. All in moderation, of course. Like Isaiah.
Step 3 above could take anywhere from 30-100 years depending on how soon we reach the Technological Singularity and how long my liver holds up.
Top that, motherfuckers.
I won’t quit my job tomorrow. I don’t want to. I’ll go in as usual, do those things that I do, and take my duties seriously. I will go home exhausted and fulfilled. And if there are terse remarks, inevitable fuck ups or rumors of another round of restructuring, I won’t lay awake worrying, staring up at the darkened ceiling like it has scrawled upon it the solution to all my problems.
I’ll drift off to sleep like a little, shitting baby.
For now, my job is rewarding and keeps me from drinking myself to death too early. However, I’m at liberty to leave any time I like, and if I’m shown the door, it’s no big deal.
How did I become free?
The amazing thing is, it’s easy. I only set this goal about six years ago and here I am, even though I enjoy only a moderate income and have an IQ comparable to that of an unemployed fitness instructor. You want to be free like the unremarkable Mr. Vladivostok? This is how you do it:
a) Figure out the absolute minimum yearly amount you can live on. BIG HINT: Be prepared to move. Look online to see how much you’d need in the third world, i.e. Latin America or the less shit parts of South Asia. You just want to calculate the amount required to live in frugal comfort. If you’d prefer to live out your days in a five star hotel snorting cocaine from the anuses of multiple boutique hookers then this article is not for you. If you do find such an article, send me the link immediately.
b) Multiply the amount identified in (a) by 25. The product will show how much you need to save in today’s dollars in order to live off around 4% per year, thus making the savings last for a pretty long time or forever, depending on variables such as inflation, rates of return and whether your beloved axolotl suddenly requires expensive treatment.
c) Save up the total indicated in (b). If you did (a) properly, it shouldn’t take too long. Invest wisely as you go.
d) Upon completion of (c), go up to your boss, show him photos of the last three girls you have bedded and gloat cruelly about how, unlike his wife, the thought of touching them does not make one taste bile in one’s mouth. Pat him upon the head kindly, as one might a small child, and tell him he will never enjoy such pleasures as he is utterly trapped in a sexless, loveless marriage with a son who will grow up to be an autistic incel and a daughter who will be a tatted-up Tinder whore and who, by the way, you will probably end up fucking. Once she is of legal age. In the Czech Republic. Tender your resignation which you have previously put up your bottom so that you can chortle as your employer regards the somewhat crumpled paper with wrinkle-nosed confusion. Briefly outline your plans for the future if safe to do so. Leave with your belongings.
d) Do whatever the fuck you want until you die in an auto-erotic asphyxiation accident. Drop us a line before you do because I am likely to be bored by this stage and may enjoy carousing with a fellow, independently wealthy chap.
Oh, what’s that? You’re married? With children? Yeah, won’t work. Should have mentioned that at the top.
Update: My realistic plan for freedom
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