Everyone's a Clean Up Hitter

I got a friend. I'll call him Barry. Calls once in a blue moon. Bullshits about getting together (for 3 years now). Then silence for 6 months. Repeats the process. I should have figured it out long ago. He's a Clean Up Hitter. He's Babe Ruth. Not Pete Rose. Or at least he's trying to be. Clean up hitters typically swing for the fences. Or strike out big. That is their job. While America has had their fair share of clean up hitters, for the most part, this country was built by blue-collar folks, singles and doubles hitters. Pete Rose. Steady employment. Bigger and better paying jobs as they reeled in the years. Vacation home on the lake. Pensions like clockwork. Of course, all that is gone now. No one can create steady, consistent wealth anymore. Recurring expenses today vs recurring expenses in 1970 resembles the 1995 wait list at Jerry Sandusky's Football camp vs the 2012 wait list. We got huge mortgages, increasing property taxes, iPhones for our toddlers, Panameras, Aspen timeshares, LandRovers for the Mrs. Parochial school tuition. Live-in maids. $500 Lacrosse camp fees. But with real wages stuck at 2000 levels, you're almost as poor as when you chugged a few Milwaukee's Best and capped it off with a couple of $0.59 Chilitos at Taco Bell back in the college days. So you have two choices: Try to build something slowly, while all your expenses continue their boner-like trajectory, or swing for the fences. Try to get rich by sundown. In the meantime, fake it till you make it. Keep going to those Chamber of Commerce meetings. Keep printing those $10 batch of biz cards. Schmooz. Network. Follow-up. Be Persistent. Your expenses certainly are. Now dig in. Snarl at the pitcher. Squint so you can see the fences. And swing like a lumberjack. Strike one. Thats ok. You miss 100% of the shots you never take. Strike two. Its ok. Tough times don't last. Tough people do. Strike three. FFFUUUUUCK!!!! You should have gone to medical school. Back to Barry. See, he's swinging for the fences. Got no long-term plan. None of us do. Only short-term hopes and aspirations. Thats why he calls me. To see what he can get in on at the last moment. Try to ride someone else's gravy train. Try to get the scoop from me. Thinks he's big shit because he knows some guy on the Board of Directors. "Hey, lets get together for a beer". Only to realize, for whatever reason, he ain't getting the scoop. There is no scoop. He's checking out. He'll call again in 6 months or so, wanting to drink more beer, but really trying to see if he can hit a HR. Little does he know, I'm behind on the count 0-2. Steeeee-Ryke!!!!!