Hey everyone. As I sit here at Denny's because my internet is dead at my apartment, I figured I should enlighten everyone with updates about America's favorite little Amish boy.
So, it didn't take long after his first few texts for him to inform me that he had an "exciting job opportunity" for me. Oh shit, the moment I've been waiting for! I had several hunches about what it could be... a missionary, perhaps? A well-paid sex slave? However, he wasn't planning to divulge this information without a fight.
"What kind of work is it?" I asked, legitimately curious.
"Umm...it's hard to explain in a text. It might confuse you. Can we meet up for dinner sometime and I'll just show you?"
Is this kid serious? I mean, I'm sure he's lived a sheltered life, but are you fucking kidding me? There have been three murders and cases of missing persons in Bloomington this week alone. Hell. No.
"Why don't you just tell me?" I ask. "I mean, I have a near-genius IQ. I think I can handle whatever you're trying to explain."
Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, that got me nowhere. I finally got him to divulge a little bit of what he does - he gets paid to recruit people to his "team" and sell things for companies. After telling my tale to a coworker, they approached what is probably the most likely story: he works for Amway.
Amway, which is notorious for scandals and utilizing "cult-like" techniques to recruit and maintain its distributors. Oh hot damn. Flypaper for freaks strikes again.
We actually had a reasonably pleasant conversation, until he would continue bringing up the fact that this cult of his changed his life and that I should join him in his revelries.
At this point, I felt obligated to tell him that I'm about a hundred and fifty percent sure that I'm not his type. I told him, in not quite so many words, that cults aren't my thing, and that I'm a filthy sinner: I have eight piercings, two tattoos, I curse like a sailor, I'm all for premarital sex...
But that's ok, he says. We can still be friends.
Praise the lord.
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