Estranged (redux)

Pronunciation: \i-ˈstrānj\
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): es·tranged; es·trang·ing
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French estrangir, estranger, from Medieval Latin extraneare, from Latin extraneus strange — more at strange
Date: 15th century

1 : to remove from customary environment or associations 2 : to arouse especially mutual enmity or indifference in where there had formerly been love, affection, or friendliness : alienate

Perhaps “disaffected” would have been a more apropos word choice to describe my relationship with [name changed] Andy. But here’s the story nonetheless:

Call me Ishmael. . . sorry, wrong story.

Let’s go for a ride in the Wayback Machine, shall we?

It’s 2004, and I’ve recently graduate with my MA in English from Montana State University, in beautiful Bozeman, Montana. For those of you who don’t know, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance author, Robert Pirsig, lived and wrote in Bozeman, and the movie A River Runs Through It (though set in Missoula, MT and credited as such) was actually filmed in Bozeman. And for you Dave Matthews fans, the video for Gravedigger was filmed just down the road from Bozeman in Livingston (I presume).

Now, that wasn’t just to astound you with my ability to beat your sorry arse in Trivial Pursuit, it intimately ties into my next point(s):The problem with being a master’s degree-holding individual in Montana is threefold: 1) In a relative sense, I was educated one or two degrees above my peers; 2) Montana’s wages are typically 43% below national average, while its cost of living is typically 74% above that same average; and 3) undergrads who flock to Bozeman for school actually come for the skiing and hiking. After graduation, they underbid and outwork you for any available job.

Being a believer in the free market, I realized that I must exit stage left. And by left I mean east. So, I’m forced to leave Bozeman and move east to Billings, where I take a position as Director of Marketing & Communications with an organization that will go unnamed.

Now, I’ve already lied to you just a tad. I was working Bozeman, and I was making enough to survive. What I omitted was that I was married to Mrs. WPoFD, and she loathed Bozeman. Actually, how that came to be is thusly: One day we decide to see the recently-released film, Sideways. Now, Mrs. WPoFD grew up in Laurel, MT, which is a railroad and oil refinery town. It really doesn’t get any more McCain territory blue collar than that.

What’s that got to do with anything? Well, Mrs. WPoFD was raised Baptist, went to private Christian school, and has a deeply entrenched ear of corn up her arse hatred for Californians (despite her family having lived in Cali). That rationale, if you can call it such, is typically held by the impoverished and relatively uneducated in Montana who resent the Californians for having sold their six-trillion dollar, two-bedroom & 1.5 bath pad homes and relocated to Bozeman. Why such a relocation, instead of, say, Portland or Seattle? Well, they came to believe everything they saw [see above movie] and read [see above book] and heard [see above song].

Truthfully, though ignorant and misguided, this mindset is not uncommon in Montana. For example, while living there I saw a license plate that read: GOBK2CA, and bumper stickers that read: Montana Sucks, Tell Your Friends. And, in all fairness, the Californians were really obnoxious. “Oh I love this quaint little town. Honey. let’s buy it.”

So, we’re watching Sideways, and we’re not ten minutes into it when Mrs. WPoFD says she can’t take it anymore and wants to leave. And so we leave the theater. Come to find out, however, that she meant leave Bozeman and return to the bastion of Montana conservatism: Billings. This is like leaving Fort Worth for Dallas, or Sodom for Gomorrah, or Wally for the Beave.

It is in Billings that I meet Andy, who is working as Creative Director for a local advertising agency. Because one of my man functions at this organization is to help them re-brand, I have to work very closely with Andy over an extended period of time. Now, I came from an ad & marketing background – having worked on some serious accounts and having won numerous Addys for my work. So I know what I’m doing. Andy and his group know what they’re doing, my org? A hopeless, clueless, incestuous, bureaucratic disaster run by a micromanaging ass kisser with no spine and even fewer balls. Needless to say, we hit it off right from the start. No, wait, that’s wrong. We loathe each other. Yeah, that’s better.

Long story short, too late, I get fired. I love their reasoning: I was too assertive. Yes, let’s not have an assertive Director of Communications and Marketing. “We’re looking for someone more passive; something in the ‘patsy’ category. Maybe a wooden figure with strings and a funny hat.”

Now, I won’t dispute the assertive claim. But if you want the truth. . .I busted them, on several occasions, breaking Federal Laws governing what non-profits can and cannot do in regards to supporting political officers.

I also took a stand against them when they blocked “living wage” legislation. As the youngest of seven boys raised by a single mom, I was morally obligated to go toe-to-toe with these fucking pricks when they spent hundreds for thousands of dollars to rail against a raise in the minimum wage. But they were all about imposing new, and increasing existing taxed to pad their coffers.

I’m sorry, I always forget, how many “t’s” in hypocrite?

So they kick me to the curb and I go to Andy and say, “Dude, Where’s my job?” Actually, I just asked him for a reference and maybe something with his agency. Neither really came through.

After that, we didn’t speak for quite some time. In all fairness, however, Andy soon left the agency because his novel was published. He’s now working on/publishing his second novel.

Nevertheless, in the end everything worked out. And to be thoroughly clear, I have absolutely nothing but love and respect for Andy. But –and only in hindsight– I can’t help but feel as though he wanted to keep his distance from me during those days.

Though I Can’t. Imagine. Why.