I’ve written about enterprising neighborhood capitalists before.

Did you see that? I’m using a tool you may not be familiar with called Search Engine Optimization or “SEO” for short. It’s pronounced “see-yo” conversationally. 

Whenever I interview for writing jobs for one of the 44,832 technology companies here in the Pacific Northwest I’m always peppering my very one-way conversation (I really can’t emphasize how much I get carried away whilst discussing myself…I typically request a mirror halfway through the interview and by the end I typically forget why I’m even there to begin with) with frequent “see-yo’s” to demonstrate my “domain knowledge” (another industry catch phrase that communicates my superior intelligence and general deservingness of said job) to impress the interviewee. Ah, interviewer. Who for some reason always seems to be frowning or in a hurry to get out of there.

Some of my other favorite industry or “I am a professional person worthy of very important meetings” jargon includes “product market fit,” “hive mind,” “UX design,” and “P&L” because they create this void where hopefully the listener struggles to follow the conversation and therefor I win.

Oh, and if young people are around I use “Damn it feels good to be a gangster” because it makes me relevant and similarly young-seeming when the truth is I’ve started to make grunting noises when I bend my knees beyond a 45-degree angle.

All of this begs the question, do people who frequently use acronyms and industry jargon at work do that at home or socially as well? Is it a habit that just kind of forms due to overexposure, or are they genetically wired to think that way and thus just can’t help themselves? Either way, should we do something about this, like hang out at my house and have a cocktail and maybe some Percocet and watch SNL, you know, just for a bit? 

So these 8-year old neighborhood capitalists were literally hiding in their playhouse next to the sidewalk where I was walking my faithful dog, Woofums. Not true. His name is Benji. I’ve always wanted to get a dog and name him “Woofums” though, and get a cat and name him “Dog,” and get a bird and name him “Bald Ass Monkey.” Also not true, I’m not a big bird fan since as a child my friends (ok friend) who had birds were always saying things like, “Don’t get too close, he’ll bite you, he’s really mean.” Which sounds like a really unpleasant trait and begs the question as to why they had a bird as a pet in the first place. Maybe the bird learned it from my friends, er, friend, because secretly my friend was super mean and bit people. Either way it’d be super fun to say “Here’s your birdseed or worms or whatever, Bald Ass Monkey!”

Anyway the capitalists were hiding in this dilapidated playhouse while I was walking the dog and looking into my neighbors’ windows. Wait. I mean do you look into your neighbors’ windows? I try to avoid it but since it gets dark early in The Great Pacific Raining Northwest (why do folks keep moving here?) my neighbors’ windows light up like 10,000 watt searchlights by 3:00 p.m. and it sort of draws me to them accidentally. I literally have to consciously focus on the sidewalk or straight ahead or completely vertically, which looks ridiculous, in order to avoid these spot lit windows. I swear I don’t do it all the time or really ever but this morning I saw movement in this window and low and behold there’s the neighbor kid eating breakfast or whatever and his head snaps up like one of those fast zombies from 28 Days Later (resisted urge to use SEO there) and he looks at me accusingly, like I’m some weirdo. Which I’m not. 

Ugh, walking the dog is so stressful.

Furthermore right before the capitalists attacked I saw this other person in this $2 million-dollar house that recently sold (please stop moving here it’s getting crazy) and I really wanted to see this person so I could appropriately judge them as horrible for having so much money and possibly introduce myself so I could look better by having rich friends although I’d never invite them over to my sub-million dollar home. As nice as it is.

But the capitalists, luckily I guess, interrupted my attempted snooping and offered to “…draw lines, or abstract art…” for a mere ten cents. The nerve! I told them I didn’t have any money and they should be in school, at which point they offered to do it for FREE. What kind of capitalists are you? Definitely need more education. But it turns out they “took me to school” (another catchphrase I use around young people at work, if I had a job, in order to be relevant…they just love it) because after receiving the artwork (I ordered abstract art, but still just got lines, albeit kind of squiggly lines emanating from the center of the page ala a supernova…probably a metaphor for hope in these trying times) I found myself offering a form of reverse layaway by quickly saying I’d come right back and pay them a QUARTER. So clever. Those conniving 8-year-olds should be in charge of a tech company – they purposefully engineered the whole transaction to make me come back, the act of which they monetized at like 3876% or whatever fifteen cents over a dime is, exactly the same process created by those creepy engineers who designed the app your psyche is so desperately telling you to take a pull from rather than read this ravishing expose.

The point of this is I’m out a quarter and to be careful where you walk. Some people are trying to bust you looking into their windows so they can call the police and collect a reward, while others are getting you addicted to stuff they can profit from. That’s why from here on out the dog will have to run on the treadmill, and all future pets will be fish. Two fish, to be exact. One will be named “Goat,” the other “Rabbit.”