For reasons I’ve never pestered my parents about, I left my perfectly fine public school from second through fifth grade to attend a Catholic school. I went back to the public school to finish up my grade school learnin’ in sixth grade and then junior high.
My time at the Catholic school was great and I easily made friends as I always have. They accepted me then and still do today, even though I didn’t graduate the eighth grade with them.
Recently, one of those guys put together a little reunion and invited me to attend. He said he’d buy me some Bud Light Lime, so the decision was a no brainer.
A small group of about 15 of us former students, along with a couple of former teachers, gathered at a local train depot, a portion of which was rented just for the occasion, and we mingled and reminisced about the good old days.
As part of the fun, one of the teachers or somebody, had a pile of old papers that we had typed for an assignment, and I was tickled pink at my nonsensical story below. It reminded me of an obligation owed to me.
The point of this post is to put it out there that I remember, at some point in my grade school life, being approached by a young grown up named Steve Jobs after one of my little league games.
Mr. Jobs said that he had started a company called Apple and one day would like to produce something called a smart phone and have a voice module that communicates with the holder of the phone. He said, and I quote, “When that finally happens, I would love to use Siri the Cat’s name for that voice and give you 1% of all the profits from any Siri installed phone or one billion dollars, whichever is greater.
He said, if for some reason I should die before I’ve paid you, then just write a blog post including that paper you wrote and tag Apple in it. I’ll make it happen from heaven.
Well, this all sounded like some crazy The Jetson’s type bullshit to me, but I told him that if he bought me some Big League Chew and a Pepsi, I’d make the deal.
Mr. Jobs bought me some grape Big League Chew and a medium Pepsi and we entered into a binding gentlemen’s agreement by shaking hands and spitting right there by the concession stand.
As instructed by Mr. Jobs, I’m writing this post as my official request to Apple to please send me one billion dollars.
Thank you so much, and I won’t stop blogging just because I’m rich, everyone, so no worries there.