Category: Uncategorized
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Seat at the table
They think it’s about getting in the room.
That’s the myth.
Because nobody tells you what happens after you’re there—
standing in conversations about problems
you’ve already solved somewhere else.Listening to men explain a machine
you’ve already kept running… quietly… when no one was watching.
There are two worlds in this business.
The room…
and the floor.The room talks about what’s going to happen.
The floor decides if it actually does.
I was never meant for the room.
Not really.
I was meant for the part where plans meet consequence.
Where time isn’t theoretical.
Where if you’re wrong… it shows.Immediately.
There was a man in this business—one of the best to ever sell it.
He respected my dad.
And when my dad thought about crossing over—
leaving the floor for the polished side—
he told him:“I’d never let you do that. You’re too good at what you do. I’ll pay you whatever it takes.”
That sounds like respect.
But I hear something else.
Sometimes the system doesn’t elevate you…
It protects its dependency on you.
My dad never chased money.
Not because he had it.
Because he didn’t measure life that way.
He came from nothing.
To him, having enough was already everything.
A car meant freedom.
A steady check meant security.That was wealth.
So he worked.
And he was great at it.
Me?
I’ve seen both sides.
I understand exactly how it works.
And I don’t agree with it.
I don’t agree that the ones who carry the weight
are the ones who stay in place.I don’t agree that being “too good at what you do”
means you don’t get to lead.I don’t agree that titles belong to the ones
furthest from the consequence.
They call it polish.
I call it distance.
There’s a certain kind of man they’re comfortable with in those rooms.
Measured. Predictable. Easy to place.
Then there’s the other kind.
The one who’s already carried too much
to pretend.
They don’t know what to do with that man.
So they label him.
Raw.
It’s a convenient word.
Sounds like potential.
Feels like a compliment.But it’s not.
It’s containment.
Because if the edges ever smooth out…
if the man who understands how it all actually works
learns how to speak like he doesn’t…
Then the balance shifts.
I’m not chasing money.
Never was.
That part runs in the family.
I’m chasing something else.
Ownership.
Respect.
The right to stand where the decisions are made—
not just where they’re carried out.
Because satisfaction isn’t about what you have.
It’s about what you know you’ve earned.
And whether the world acknowledges it…
or you take it anyway.
Trust me. I’m satisfied with what I’ve been blessed with.
Chaos = Love
The room doesn’t run the world.
It describes it.
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DRUNK STATES OF AMERICA PART II — THE MIDWEST
The Midwest doesn’t drink to escape.
It drinks to hold the line.
That’s the mistake outsiders make. They think this is sadness.
It’s not.
It’s discipline.
The land flattens everything—ego, expectation, fantasy. What’s left is routine, weather, work, and loyalty to things that don’t always love you back.
Which is why the Midwest drinks the way it does.
WHERE I’M FROM (OR CLOSE ENOUGH) THE REGION
My mom’s people are from northeast Indiana. Hammond to be exact. This is not where they live now. Somebody does…
Not the postcard Midwest.
The other one.
The gritty Chicago suburb that never quite gets the credit or the money but catches all the weather and most of the fallout. Close enough to feel the pull of the city. Far enough to keep its distance.
This is Bears country without the skyline.
Steel-adjacent. Factory-adjacent. Bar-first, questions-later.
People here don’t romanticize struggle.
They expect it.
THE CHICAGO BEARS PROBLEM
Big Boss Man photo in the back You don’t casually root for the Bears.
You inherit them. My parents aren’t Bears fans, but it’s in my mom’s blood. She’s just is smarter than me with her time on Sundays. My dad is from Atlanta. He’s a a Steelers fan because there are no such thing as actual Falcons fans.
The Bears are the perfect Midwest franchise because they teach the same lesson over and over:
Endure. Don’t expect rescue.
Every season starts with hope, but not optimism. Hope is allowed. Delusion is not.
So Sundays look the same:
Cold beer Cheap whiskey Defense-first thinking Anger kept under control
You drink not because they’re winning—but because you’re watching anyway.
That’s Midwest loyalty.
Unrewarded. Unbroken.
WISCONSIN — BEER WITHOUT QUESTIONS
Wisconsin doesn’t drink beer for fun.
It drinks beer because it works.
Cold climate. Early mornings. Long winters. Beer that doesn’t ask you to reflect or emote. Something you can drink standing up in boots, sitting down in silence, or still wearing your coat.
This is beer as ballast.
Keeps you steady. Keeps you moving.
Nobody here is chasing a buzz.
They’re chasing evenness.
ILLINOIS — THE BAR BETWEEN SHIFTS
Illinois built bars the way it built factories—close together and always open.
You drink here in transition:
After work Before home Between versions of yourself
Beer and whiskey aren’t celebrations.
They’re pressure valves.
Chicago teaches you how to sit with noise.
Indiana teaches you how to sit without it.
Same drinks.
Different silences.
OHIO, INDIANA, MICHIGAN — DRINKING ON ROTATION
Buy a shirt!! These states don’t spike the night.
They fill it.
https://www.bonfire.com/run-the-damn-dock/
Beer. Light whiskey. Vodka when conversation feels optional.
This is alcohol for people who:
Wake up early anyway Know the score before kickoff Expect winter to be worse than advertised
Nobody’s reinventing themselves here.
This place deserved to close. They’re reinforcing what already works. Btw… since it works so well… You won’t find me there to fix it. You can keep all 3 of these places.
MISSOURI — THE EDGE STATE
Missouri drinks like it knows it doesn’t fully belong.
Half Midwest. Half South.
Beer in one hand. Whiskey in the other.
There’s patience here—but also an edge. A reminder that endurance can turn into volatility if you don’t release it occasionally.
Missouri understands both sides of the river.
Mardi Gras in St. Louis. I dare you. That makes it dangerous in a quiet way. I will retire in St. Louis or Memphis one day…
THE GREAT LAKES EFFECT
Water everywhere.
Warmth nowhere permanent.
The Midwest drinks cold because warmth is temporary.
Beer stays honest. Whiskey stays useful.
Vodka shows up when words aren’t necessary.
This region doesn’t drink to feel alive.
It drinks because life keeps coming.
Bills. Weather. Sundays. Work.
Repeat.
THE TRUTH ABOUT THE MIDWEST
The Midwest isn’t numb.
It’s trained.
Trained to tolerate weather.
Trained to tolerate routine.
Trained to cheer for teams that ask for everything and promise nothing.
Beer to keep pace.
Whiskey to stay upright.
Vodka to be left alone.
This isn’t despair.
It’s loyalty under pressure.
And if you understand that—
you understand the Midwest.
