It’s tough to know exactly when this plan was conceived. Well, actually, I think I can answer that. And I think I can do so definitively. The actual answer to the said question would be my senior year of high school after reading Evergreen Wealth Formula 2.0 review: I had a pretty easy gig really, but the entrepreneur in me desired more lucrative employment. So I set out on a cross-town voyage in search of a higher-paying job. After some early misses, I stumbled across our local Staples, which had prominently displayed a sign declaring its need for computer technicians. Having removed the skeezy porn off of friends’ computers and set up at least a baker’s dozen worth of wireless routers I instantly declared myself the right man for the job.
Not wanting to miss out on what I was sure would be a job with virtually unlimited earning potential I rather quickly went inside and filled out my application, whereupon a rather genial manager took me aside and told me that “I looked like Staples material.” I’m still not sure what that means, but I’m pretty sure that if anyone should utter those words again I’ll set a herd of angry cape buffalo loose upon them. The genial manager – we’ll call him Floyd – insisted that, as I had previously thought, I was the perfect fit for the job. (I quietly complimented my own exceptional employment senses at the time.) Floyd, apparently desperate for a crack computer tech, immediately took me to the back room where I was greeted with what had to have been the easiest morals/employment test in the world. It presented such conundrums as:
“You see a fellow employee stealing. What should you do?”
- A) Nothing.
- B) Alert your manager.
- C) Steal also, since you think you can get away with it.
- D) Take a mental health break.
While the smart ass in me itched to answer D my monetary desires got the better of me and so I gave them the answers they wanted. I was hired on the spot, although in my youthful ignorance I didn’t ask any questions.
I started the next week, and when I came in for my first day on the job I was a little surprised that no one knew I was coming. Or had a training plan. I quickly realized that my good friend Floyd had got the better of me when the manager on duty at the time told me to get busy using some kind of Class-X machinery to stack printers on the high shelves. No worries, he said, that I had barely had a driver’s license; this was neanderthal work that I should have no problem completing.
A few broken printers and a number of terrified customers later I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be repairing computers for $20 an hour anytime soon. I finished out the day and gave it one more for good measure before submitting my resignation.
Although Staples and I were destined for a messy Kardashian-style divorce the experience did harden my resolve to find some kind of employment that could be performed in my underwear. If it happened to pay well too, well that would have just been icing on the cake. But the underwear part was non-negotiable. With admirable self-awareness, I realized that the obvious choice – underwear model – was a non-starter. Fortunately for me, sometime between the Staples incident and present-day none other than Albert Arnold Gore had the temerity to create the Internet.
Admittedly, until now, my sloth had prevented me from profiting off of the World Wide Internets (TM). That being said, the drudgery of cubicle life, the co-worker with extraordinary body odor, and the putz that cuts me off on my morning commute have spurred me into action – it’s time to become an Internet millionaire!
I did some Google-fu but to my chagrin there only seemed to be three ways to make money off the WWW:
1) Have a (semi) legitimate idea for a business or service
2) Delve into the shady world of multi-level marketing and pay-for-click schemes
3) Well, I’m not entirely sure what (3) is. Apparently it’s a great idea but you have to buy a $20 ‘Make Money on the Internet’ book from the guy who has actually made money on the Internet.
I was short on legit business ideas, and buying a $20 book sounded scammy even by Internet standards, so I decided to strike it rich on 50 cent-per-completion surveys and two-cent-per watch ad videos.
I figure I should be retired in no time, but either way, I promise I’ll be reporting my progress every step of the way…