I worked at a job for twenty years that I really detested. Why? Because I made good money at it. And because I knew I would not be able to find another job up in the mountains that offered the pay and benefits. I looked at it as something that allowed me to live where I chose to live. True, it was a 75 mile a day round trip over appalling terrain, but I wanted a good life style for my family and this job provided it. I know it took years off my life, and I'm still not sure I did the right thing. Water under the bridge now.
My old boss was the main problem. He worked seven days a week. As a result, by the time Monday rolled around, he had a whole list of things to be furious about, either real or imagined. You couldn't even get into the building on Monday morning without him waiting for you. He was an equal opportunity employer, he made everyone's lives miserable.
Because my job involved joint interest billings, disbursements, property auctions, leasing and BLM coordination among other things, I got to be his punching bag for whatever displeased him at other offices in those areas. He couldn't rant at the guys out on the pipelines or in other locations, but my office was right next door to his.
He went out to Texas one time, and tried that act on with the land men. A Land Man is a specialist, a free lancer. He does the research on individual working interests to insure you are getting what you are bidding on. They are rough guys, people who have come up through "the patch" on their own. They are also essential to making sure you don't get ripped off. He tried that "Little Dictator" routine out there and got a "good thrashing" as the English say. Those guys don't take abuse off suits, they have already suffered too much of it in their lives. There's always more business than there are Land Men to do it. They are used to being treated with respect and react appropriately when they are not. My old boss found out that some people (alas, not me) put money way down their list of priorities. Bad people to fool with.
I still subscribe to the county newspaper from over there, and the first thing I check when it comes is the obituaries. That's one funeral I'm not going to miss. Not that anyone else will be there, not even his wife and daughter. But I'll be there, to savor the moment.
This is a guy who was so evil, his mother bought him a "dispensation of sins" from the Vatican. She went all the way to Rome , in her eighties, to get it. He framed it and set it over his desk, along with the sign that said "Earth First, we can exploit the other planets later." I told him I thought that kind of thing went out in the Middle Ages, but he firmly believes you can buy your way into heaven.
North Carolina has higher mountains than we do. Fewer roads, and less build up around the small towns.
Driving through their mountains is more relaxing than in North Georgia, because once you get away from Franklin, there isn't much out there. So there are less people. So there is infinitely less trouble, and less destruction of the countryside.
On the way back, we went through the old saw mill town up in North Carolina that has the "scratch and dint" grocery store. They had four cases of Portuguese Sausage Spam, unobtainable anywhere around where I live. I ordered one can of it some months ago, to try it out. Bought it from "The Spam Shop" and it cost $12.00 when I threw in shipping. Too spicy to just eat out of the can, but great for cooking. We made some Navy Bean soup with it this morning and it was wonderful.
I bought all four cases, and one case of Jalapeno Spam. We also got three cases of Rotel, in jars. Never seen it sold in jars before.
I spent several hours this morning working on 2016 tax planning. Finally I got everything all set up, printed, and checked to send to my tax accountant. I got my wife, sat her down at the computer, and had her log on to her social security account. Or, at least, try to. It came up and said " you have failed to enter the correct password three times in a row. You are locked out of your account for 24 hours."
I needed one more piece of paper.
She only entered the password once. I have no idea what is going on, but I'm not surprised. Now all this stuff will just sit on my desk for 24 hours while I wait to see if it will let us on tomorrow. Tax planning doesn't stop just because you retire. Even a good tax accountant has a rough time navigating all the asinine laws that impact your retirement. Since the politicians who made the laws up never thought about the interaction of the various laws and regulations, it's a real rat's nest. Sometimes I wish we had not done any retirement planning. After all, there's always this!
One more thing I wanted to mention.
I went into one of those little Podunk gun stores you find in small towns up in the North Carolina mountains.
They had this ammo for $2.27 a box.
I was going to buy a bunch of it, then I saw the "quiet" thing on the box. To me, that reeks "subsonic" which I have no use for.
I asked the clerk if it was subsonic. I don't think he really knew what I meant, but he said no.
I told him I'd take a couple of boxes, and he said "you can't use it in semi-automatics, though." I decided to wait til I had talked to someone who used it before I messed with buying any. I don't like mysteries.
I also don't need another "be careful what you use" ammo. I already have that in my CZ-52 pistols, where some 7.62X25 ammo is fine, because it was loaded for pistols, and some is not, because it was loaded for submachine guns. The Bulgarians sold a huge amount of surplus 7.62X25 to a major importer in the U.S.A. about ten years ago, and it was resold by distributors without the warning that it was for machine guns. Harder primer, hotter load. Not good.