I have posted on Facebook in the past couple of days that I was going through some extremely difficult times, and needed some support of any kind. However, I didn't tell anyone exactly what happened.
Right now, I will explain what happened. This is not a complete record of such, as there are some things I would not like to reveal in the blog entry at this current time – such as the names of people.
You'll only fully understand if you read the entire thing.
***
Ever since leaving the Gazette/Telegraph seven years ago, I always wanted to find some way to get back into the newspaper world (not journalism world, but newspaper world – there's a difference). Northern Illinois Sports Beat, the website that I run, was established to help me keep my journalism skills fresh and up-to-date.
Since writing things seemed to go very well for me (c. 2002), I always wanted to work for the local newspaper and one day be its sports editor. I came close to that ultimate dream seat when I joined the local paper for a part-time position in April of 2004.
That run ended and I was back to school for my senior year of high school. At the time my academics were not all that great, and they were the prime priority. But I figured that one day I shall return to the seat and cubicle that I once occupied at Sauk Valley Newspapers.
As most of you know, journalism has had a bunch of lows since 2004. Seven years and no real opportunity came along. There had been several openings throughout the NISB coverage area, but I simply wasn't ready to give up NISB and make that transition. I've had arguments with good friends over the fact that I can't simply just up and leave the home that I live in, and my parents own, in Sterling.
However, a possible opening was brought to my attention during the Saturday of high school football's Week 1 by a newspaper friend of mine. An opening at his paper was filled by someone else from a nearby paper, thus creating this void at this “nearby” paper. So at that time I knew this situation existed, and didn't think much of it because it was so early in the season and website plans would be paramount over anything.
The following week, out of the blue, I get asked about this newspaper opening while covering another football game. How my friend knew about the potential void I will never know. I tell him, “well I don't know, I have the website and all that.”
The week after that, someone else that I know heard something along the line of “I turned down the job offer at this newspaper.” One, there was no job offer – thus making this whole thing nothing more than a rumor. This person tells someone close to me, who tells another person close to me.
The latter person, always wanting the best of me and for me to follow my true dreams, is angry that I supposedly “turned down” this opportunity. A drive to the Shell station that I work out was apparently needed in order to inform me of my “stupid decision.”
We are arguing back and forth – no raised voices or anything – about the fact that I should have jumped at this offer. I point out that there was never a job offer and such was pretty much a rumor that I had “turned them down.”
As all of this is unfolding, I become absolutely flustered, confused, distraught, and blindsided enough to focus away from my duties as Shell gas station clerk. My autistic mind is mentally cramming, Aspergian style.
Then a customer buys a six-pack of Bud Light in bottles.
The a couple of minutes later, a couple of guys with clipboards come in.
The customer who bought the Bud Light was underage, and I didn't even think of carding him because of my mental state brought forth by this arguing.
Bottom line, I just sold alcohol to a minor.
I tell my adversary in this argument to “Get out.”
The bad news hit me hard. I cried. I didn't want to work the rest of the night. I went home early.
September 12, 2011. This, folks, would be the final night that Cody Cutter worked at the Shell gas station. Three years and 42 days.
Due to the seriousness of the offense, I had to be fired. My boss didn't want to fire me, and even the owner didn't want to fire me, all because apparently I had been a good worker and a loyal employee in the three years I had been there. However, the decision was the owner's, and he was going along the line of “If I gave you an exception, I would have to give everyone else an exception.” Which is very true in this case because I knew a lot of Shell workers.
During the cop's arrival that night, he had made a comment to me that I handled the situation very calmly – and that most others when they fail get all up and arms about the problem. I didn't scream, I didn't get pissed off, and I simply accepted the fact that this would be my final night at Shell. At the same time, I didn't want to hold off telling my boss what had happened. I called her and woke her up to tell her this. I felt this was the right thing to do, to admit it immediately and up-front.
I have been teary-eyed every moment since, and am teary-eyed as I type this. After some comforting by my parents, I'm still teary-eyed.
Meanwhile, the person that I was arguing with is in a world of hurt because of what had just happened to me. And this was because the need to address the situation had to be urgent, apparently. Please let it be known to everyone that while it cost me my job, I will always be close. I do not want anyone to hurt this person in any way. No rifts. Always close. Always. Forever.
***
As of Tuesday afternoon I am a free agent.
Now begins the search for another job. Already there are a couple of avenues that have opened up for me. One is something I had done before. Another is a one-off opportunity. Another is something I had never done before. One is close. Another is far. A quick look at the classifieds reveals things that I just cannot do. The best shot out of that listing was an opening for sales and delivery for the big ice business out of the town of Ohio.
So any help is greatly appreciated.
However, there is one better avenue that is worth persuing.
The whole point of that argument.
If I can get my mind straightened out, I'll look into that newspaper job. What that will mean for Northern Illinois Sports Beat is unclear. My best guess is that if I get this newspaper job, I will ask to retain the Message Boards. I'll have to shut down the content side of things, if I get this job, because of competition reasons.
Two years ago, I created an NISB Transition Plan that I simply made mention of in that year's State of the Site Address, but never publically revealed. The Transition Plan is the emergency operations of NISB when I am unable to run the website. So plans are in place when and if the time comes up. But the prime mission of the Transition Plan is to ensure the survival of Northern Illinois Sports Beat if and when I am gone.
Who knows what is going to happen right now.
However, I feel somewhat compelled to improve my life in this aspect. I hated, hated, hated, having to prioritize work, school and prep sports. Absolutely hated it. School is now out of the question until I get restabilized. I want to be happy and at peace with myself while making money and building my life. I feel that I'm happy and at peace when I'm out there writing about high school sports, and interacting with these people. I have mentioned on here many times that the sportswriters and media types that I cover games with are whom I consider my true circle of friends.
Cash flow is extremely critical right now. I have nothing coming in after the final paycheck, and have expenses and interests that I can try and squeeze somehow.
What's best about this is that I can kick the lottery habit, and the fast food habit. I have plenty of time right now to take some walks and at least try to get myself in some sort of shape. You see, I can find ways to turn these big negatives into positives that will help me. That is how, and why, I will fight through this whole ordeal.
I told my boss, “something good will come out of this,” and I will be on my way toward making that so.
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