My husband and I have been leasing Forresters for many years. Today we went to a dealer to look at the Forester for a lease. We can only afford the base price this time. Is it worth it ? The salesman acted like no one ever leases or buys a base priced subaru. He was condescending and didn’t even want our business apparently. Is this normal ? Is it a terrible car if it’s just the basic car ???

It happened. He didn't deny that. Not like he was a suspect or anything—not yet—but he never denied it to himself. At the same time, this all happened over a decade ago—twelve years to be exact.
He didn't think of it every day; in fact, sometimes an entire month would go by where it barely crossed his mind.
In a way, that whole experience—he thought of all the abductions and murders as a singular event—now felt as if it belonged to somebody else.
It was a time in his life when he was confused, mixed-up, searching; a dark time, you know, like a phase. Who didn't have one of those in their past?
Plus, he was married now. His wife, Dee, obviously didn't know about it and he felt no obligation to tell her. Did he ask about her former lovers?
Sometimes there are things in the past and you just let them be. Whether it was Dee losing her virginity to the quarterback of the football team in the backseat at a drive-in or him using multiple black garbage bags and masking tape on that thing he didn't have time to bury in rural Tennessee, everyone has things they would rather forget about. Sometimes you just leave things where they lie.
So that's what Ned Doyle did.
Until that Sunday morning, November 6th, 1988.
He was a having a glass of Dee's pulpy homemade orange juice, waiting for his coffee to percolate, when he opened his heavy weekend edition of the New York Times (probably Ned's greatest extravagance—he liked its heft; and how the Arts & Leisure section made him feel culturally superior to his Ohio townsfolk, “the Philistines of Findlay,” he called them) when he saw the article buried in the back.
The country was two days from heading to the polls for the General Election—Bush v. Dukakis—so most everything else that week had been relegated to the back.
He read the article twice before he could even begin to make sense of it. It seemed to be a story about something called "DNA fingerprinting" and a 27-year-old baker in Great Britain named Colin Pitchfork who had confessed to raping and murdering two 15-year-old girls, in separate incidents a few years apart, after a new scientific process had been used to extract information from semen which he, Colin Pitchfork, had left at the crime scenes (likely inside the victims) some five years earlier.
Now if they could do all that after five years, why not ten years—or maybe even… twelve?
"Interesting story here," he said to Dee. It wasn't uncommon for Ned to read a news story twice—once for himself and a second time aloud to Dee while she brewed his coffee and burnt her toast. But this was his third reading and Ned acted as if it were his first.
"What do you make of that?" he asked. It somehow got worse each time he read it. After the third time, he felt as if he had been sucker punched in the stomach.
"Science Fiction is what it sounds like," Dee said matter-of-factly, pouring Ned his coffee in a mug that bore the Marathon Oil insignia. Findlay, Ohio was Marathon’s headquarters although there had been rumors circulating about a move to Texas.
"And unconstitutional," he said. "Cops running a dragnet like that, taking blood samples from 5,000 townspeople. Thankfully, that would never pass the muster here."
"They did catch the killer so maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea," she said, buttering her burnt toast. "Otherwise, who knows? They could have convicted the wrong man.”
Ned had already gotten lucky once – astonishingly so. Griffin Gerald Jones, the famed “I-75 Corridor Child Killer,” had claimed responsibility for all but one of Ned’s victims before dying in Florida’s electric chair.
"You can't have police in this country running around, sticking everyone with needles, drawing blood for some sort of science experiment,” he said. “Nevermind the Constitution, what about AIDS?”
“What about it?” she asked.
“There's been hundreds, thousands of cases now where people have been infected by giving blood,” he said. “That's a medical fact. Get accused of a crime and AIDS too?"
"It doesn't sound like any of the townspeople there in England got AIDS, darling. Unless there's more to the story, besides what you read to me."
He watched her spread orange marmalade over her burnt toast and take a bite. She had a dead tooth and he saw it every time she opened her mouth. He loved Dee but had never been sexually attracted to her. Not in the way he had been attracted to others.
"It really is just a matter of time before that stuff makes it over here," she said with her mouth full. "To this side of the pond, as they say." She took a sip of his orange juice. "Isn’t that how it always works? Things start over there in England, or in California, and then phht, before you know it, it makes its way to Findlay."
He held his hand over his stomach. She saw him wince.
"Was it my orange juice again? Was it still pulpy? I squeezed it by hand and even strained it twice this time."
"It’s not your fault,” he said. “I think it’s me. Orange juice is getting too… acidic for me." He looked at the clock on the coffee maker. "I'm going to be late."
He turned the page.
He played the 8 o'clock Mass by rote as he had many a bleary-eyed Sunday morning. It was pure muscle memory at this point. He made a few mistakes here and there, missed a key or two, but it was nothing the organ's sustain pedal couldn't mask – not that anyone would complain (not at the 8 o'clock anyway).
On Sundays Ned had four Masses: the 8, the 9:30, the big one at 11, and the 12:30 for the dilettantes who couldn't get their acts together for the 11.
He turned the page.
Today he was using Glory and Praise, AKA "the blue hymnal" for songs he knew by heart.
Turning the pages of his sheet music, reading each note, he was able to keep his mind off it.
Ned abhorred cliches (especially those involving sports) but he made an exception for “Out of sight, out of mind.” For Ned, that wasn’t a cliché; it was a way of life. He was a man who preferred to be heard, not seen, which made St. Bartholomew (or St. Bart’s) the perfect home for him.
In a spectacular architectural oversight, the church's pipe organ was situated so the organist's back was to the altar and pews. The organist of course needs to see what's going on in the Mass to read certain non-verbal cues but the arrangement suited Ned just fine. The congregation was comprised of many young families who had many young children—boys in particular—and it wasn't so much that he couldn't control himself because he was now firmly in control of all that; it was more that he didn't need any reminders of that time when he couldn't.
Especially during church.
So to see the altar behind him, Ned had installed an actual rearview mirror, the type you'd find on an old Buick, and he used a special type of putty to affix it to the mantle of the pipe organ. Having been the church organist at St. Bart's for nine years, he seldom needed it anymore—he could do it in his sleep—but it came in handy today as he found his attention drifting and he nearly missed the oratory refrain at the 9:30 Mass.
His real problems didn't start until the 35-minute break between the 8 and 9:30.
He was reorganizing his sheet music after the first wave of churchgoers had cleared out, when he began thinking about Colin Pitchfork again. The article said he was a baker in England somewhere—did it say he baked cakes or was that Ned's invention?
Even though no picture was provided in the Times article, Ned spent the balance of the 9:30 service picturing the 27- year-old ex-rapist/murderer working in his small English bakery, quietly going about his business, baking his cakes, when the police (Bobbies?) came.
Was he expecting them?
He played the offertory hymn, "On Eagle's Wings," as the ushers began taking up the collections and a family of parishioners he’d never seen before brought the gifts up.
And what was going through Pitchfork's head when he saw the Bobbies there? When they began asking him about rapes and murders that happened almost five years ago? The article said that he had initially given investigators someone else's blood when “the enquiry” began. Had he somehow caught wind of this “DNA Fingerprinting?”
There was a new usher, Ned noticed, in his makeshift rearview mirror.
The Times article said that one of Pitchfork's co-workers at the bakery had taken the blood test masquerading as Pitchfork because Pitchfork had told the co-worker that ‘he could not give blood under his own name because he had already given blood while pretending to be a friend of his who had wanted to avoid being harassed by police because of a youthful conviction for burglary.’ This story was later overheard by a woman in a pub who immediately went to the police.
Ned realized he had missed the homily twice now. Not that it mattered. Heard one you've heard them all and Ned was pretty sure there would be no surprises. Plus, he'd have two more chances to catch it. He knew he would have to really focus for the 11 o'clock. That was always the main event. He was going to play "I Will Raise Him Up," a complex hymn, which required his full attention. He would scratch that one now if he hadn’t read that article and if the Sunday programs hadn't already been printed. People liked that one –it was a real barn burner, as they say—and if he skipped it, there might be questions.
The last thing Ned needed right now were fucking questions.
Who was this new usher, by the way?

By the start of the 11 o'clock Mass, Ned wondered whether anyone would even show for the 12:30, seeing that it was already standing room only. The 11 was always the most popular Mass, but today felt different; it was packed like Christmas Eve. What was the occasion? Was the predominantly conservative town that afraid of Dukakis winning the presidency? Ohio was a swing state after all and that image of the little Greek man in the tank was unnerving, sure, but was it enough to warrant this sort of turnout for the 11 AM Mass at St. Bart's in Findlay?
Or was something else going on?
Ned didn’t believe they had come to hear his rendition of "I Will Raise Him Up."
Or could there be another reason? Maybe they had all read the same Times article. Maybe there had long been simmering suspicion of Ned in the community and maybe the article finally prompted the townspeople to join together and take arms. With pitchforks.
On March 31, 1892, the only known lynching in the history of Hancock County occurred when a mob of 1,000 men, many "respectable citizens," broke into the county jail in Findlay. They lynched Mr. Lytle, a man who had killed his wife and two daughters with a hatchet the day before. The townsfolk hanged the man twice (first from the bridge, then a telegraph pole) and then, in a classic case of overkill, shot his body over a dozen times. The authorities had intended to transfer the prisoner out of town at 1 o'clock in secret, where a train was scheduled to transport him to Lima, but someone talked.
Ned had only confessed what he had done to one person – a priest eight years prior. The priest was set to retire as he was dying of pancreatic cancer and visiting from a nearby parish. For years Ned had heard this priest was “of the old school” – i.e., your word to God’s ear, and it went no further. He was as safe as they come. Still, even then, Ned used the screened side of the Confessional, lowered his voice a full octave, and spoke of what he had done obliquely and in generalities. They were mortal sins. His penance severe: to repent and refrain from repeating the act again. The priest was now long dead. There’s no way he could have tracked Ned down and told anyone. Was there?
The last one was named Derek. That was the only one left unsolved.
He would play "I Will Raise Him Up" during Communion. Because of the crowds, he knew the communion lines would be longer and would thus require him to stretch the already difficult song a few minutes longer. If he was going to supply the masses, he was going to need a bigger yield. In a way it was like baking a cake, wasn't it?
He met Derek at a Dairy Queen in Paducah, Kentucky. It was Labor Day 1976. It must have been 100 degrees out, but it felt even hotter with the humidity. It was a real scorcher.
Derek had a bicycle with an American flag banana seat. It was the summer of Bicentennial Fever. The Dairy Queen was in an area known as Noble Park. It had a tin canopy that kept cars cool in the shade.
Ned missed a note as he turned the page. He stepped on the sustain pedal and his mistake sounded deliberate and beautiful even.
It was early evening; fireflies were out in full force and Ned was blotto. He had been drinking beer—cans of Schlitz—all day at the picnic of a friend (technically, the friend of an acquaintance so basically a stranger). A born introvert who still lived alone (this was pre-Dee), Ned was very drunk and primed for small talk. You must also remember this was a very different time. This was back when you still opened cans with an opener; drunk driving was frowned upon but not the cardinal sin it is today; and a grown man could still park outside a Dairy Queen and strike up an innocent conversation with a prepubescent boy on a bike.
"What da ya' got there?" Ned asked.
"Butterscotch Sundae," the boy said. The boy was blonde with brown eyes.
"Butterscotch, eh?"
The boy licked his plastic spoon and stared somewhere beyond the pea-green 1974 Buick Riviera Ned had inherited from his old man after he had kicked the bucket.
"For the life of me, I can't remember if I like butterscotch or not," Ned said. "That probably sounds pretty screwy, I bet."
"Get a free sample at the window,” the kid said. “They're free."
"Looks awfully busy over there. Mind if I have a taste of yours? I don't have any cooties, I promise."
The kid dragged his spoon over his ice cream as he mulled it over. Maybe seeing that he was almost done with it anyway, he figured what's the harm. He handed Ned the Styrofoam cup.
Ned looked at the boy as he stirred it a little and then placed the curved side of the spoon on his tongue and kept it there.
"I do like butterscotch," Ned said, giving it back. "Thank you for sharing that with me, that was awfully kind of you—say, what is your name?"
"Derek," the boy said.
"Derek. What a nice boy you are. Do you like dogs, Derek?"
"Sure," Derek said.
"Do you have a dog?"
"Not anymore. Used to. We had a beagle named Eleanor but she went blind and then lame and then..."
"What kind of dog was she?" Ned asked.
"A beagle," the boy said.
"A beagle, yes you said that. You like Golden Retrievers?"
"Sure," the boy said.
"Cause I have a Golden Retriever. It's a girl too. A bitch."
Derek smiled.
"She's pregnant. I mean she was. But… she just gave birth."
"To puppies?"
"You betcha. It was just a few weeks ago. She had a whole litter of 'em. Boys, girls. Cutest little pups you've ever seen. The thing is, Derek, I don't know what to do with them all. You're a nice boy. You just shared your Butterscotch Sundae with me and I'd care to return the favor. Would you… like a puppy?"
"How much?"
"For nothing,” Ned said. “For free.”
"You'll give me a puppy for nothing? And I can pick the one I want?"
"Sure can. They're at my place just down the road. Thing is, it's probably too far to bike there. And you're going to need both hands to hold on to the puppy. Hop in, I’ll give you a lift."
"What about my bike?"
"We could put it in the trunk but we're not going to be long. We'll be right back. It'll be safe here. People don't take things that aren’t theirs around here – especially when there's a lot of people around."
He remembered waking up on the floor of his apartment disoriented. He was late for work. He was still working as a salesman at the piano store. There was a big Labor Day sale still going on. Labor Day was always a big day for retail. The owner was a nice man and Ned wanted to call him and apologize but he wasn't sure what to say yet.
He hadn't planned on sleeping in. Forgetting work on Labor Day. The irony.
He saw the boy's underwear on his floor. They were tighty-whities from Fruit of the Loom. He thought of that every time he saw an ad for that company afterward.
They weren’t bloody but they were torn.
He remembered the sound of the filter on the aquarium he used to keep in his apartment. It was noisy but sometimes that was a good thing. He was very into Japanese Fighting Fish for a while until it became too expensive as they always killed each other.
There were no puppies obviously.
His apartment did not allow dogs.
His sense of disorientation and the ensuing panic prevented him from experiencing any of the usual remorse he felt afterward.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
The boy's body was in the bathroom just off the bedroom and he needed to get rid of it. He needed to get out of town. Out of Paducah. Out of Kentucky.
He placed the boy in a hardshell Samsonite suitcase, carried it out of his apartment, walked down the one flight of steps. He saw no one and he was confident no one had seen him. The suitcase was lighter than it should have been—a detail he never forgot—and he walked out to the carport where he saw his Riviera parked sloppily between the lines. He felt a wave of nausea come over him but he suppressed it. He opened his trunk, placed the suitcase in the back, and then looked around the apartment complex before walking back inside. He cleaned up with bleach. Showered. Hit the road.
There were no police gathered outside the Dairy Queen. It wasn’t a crime scene. He didn't look to see if the boy’s bike was still there; he didn’t want to appear suspicious.
He needed to get out of Paducah so he headed toward the freeway.
For a moment he briefly considered the Shawnee National Forest, which was to the north, but he stuck to his gut and took the newly-constructed Interstate 24 East toward Tennessee. Aside from getting out of Kentucky, he didn't have a plan. The asphalt was brand new and at times he felt as though he were floating across the highway. It took about two hours to get to the state line and once he was over, he filled up at a 76 Station in Clarksville, Tennessee. Only when he was filling his tank and had a moment to reflect, did he think about what was in the trunk. He imagined he had Superman's X-Ray vision and pictured the suitcase in the back, the boy's tiny body folded like a pretzel inside.
He missed both the readings, the Gospel, and the homily again. Then came the Consecration which was over before he knew it. It was time. He began to play "I Will Raise Him Up." In his rearview, he saw the communion lines forming and he thought he caught a glimpse of the new usher staring at him, but he couldn't be sure. He needed to concentrate on the song. People knew this one; people wanted to hear it exactly as they remembered it, and it was a full house, so the sustain pedal wouldn't save him this time.
Once he made it through the chorus, he knew he could relax a little.
The "DNA fingerprinting" in Pitchfork's case came from semen that was left inside of the victims.
Ned had made it to the outskirts of Nashville faster than he expected. He still hadn't checked in with Mr. Cory, the owner of the piano store. He desperately needed an alibi. Old Mr. Cory could probably send Ned to the electric chair if he wasn't careful.
He got on Highway 386 and headed north. After 20 minutes, he exited in Gallatin and drove around until he found an area he thought was remote. There was a road called Cages Bend.
He liked the sound of that.
It sounded hopeful.
He took that until he came to a gravel road, which looked as if it led to an even more secluded wooded area.
In the rearview, he remembered the cloud of dust kicked up by the tires of the Riviera he had inherited from his father, the drunk, who had done to him what he had gone on to do to others.
In the rearview, the communion lines were still going strong. No sign of that new usher.
He came upon a bend in the road that looked totally secluded, as if no one had been there in years. He cut the engine and listened for a moment. The invisible cicadas high up in the trees made it sound as if a giant rattle snake was slithering around him, preparing to strike. He got out of the car.
He didn't know if it was the trees or the fields of tall grass, but something smelled like semen.
He opened the trunk with his keys and pulled out the hardshell suitcase. When he closed the trunk there was a rustling in the tall grass but when he looked, he saw only a herd of white tail deer scattering.
Initially he had planned on dumping the body and taking the suitcase home with him. He didn't think to bring a shovel. Then he heard the sound of a bush hog—a piece of farm equipment with spinning blades that cut vegetation and cleared the land. He couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. He checked to make sure his suitcase didn't have any labels on it or name tags. He then two black trash bags in his back seat and wrapped the suitcase – one bag around the top, the other on the bottom, and secured it with masking tape. Then he carried it into the woods and set it down in some brush. He began snapping tree branches off to make cover but as the bush hog got louder and closer he panicked, leaving it only partially covered.
The communion lines had dissipated. Everyone was sitting now, even the priest.
Everyone always knelt until the priest sat and Ned should never be playing if the priest was sitting but somehow, Ned had missed his cue.
He concluded "I Will Raise Him Up" softly, using the sustain to ease himself out.
He looked in the rearview and saw the priest staring at him.
As was the rest of the congregation.
They would all be coming for him soon enough.
Unless he could make it back down to Tennessee and get rid of that thing once and for all – assuming it hadn’t been found yet.
Somehow, deep down, Ned always knew it was going to happen.
He was raised up, alright.
Now it was just a matter of time.

2nd April 1968;

Kenora, SCS;

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in once more. Breathe out once more. Calm. Quiet. Loyal. Trustworthy. Cool. That is it.
Enter the room, talk to Vincent Sheridan about the new party developments, and ask whether he would be surprised that one sector of the party wants to exert its independence. Listen to how Vincent talks of the centralised nature of the party, of how they would still get a majority with Aspen even without the two within the investigatory wing. Argue that there should be party unity, but accept that it would be better for the party and the country to let Matias and Jarno go. Ask if Sheridan would mind being the new Member of Warfare if Matias decides to leave the coalition, listen to an enthusiastic reply to the affirmative. Congratulate Vincent on his eagerness and willingness to take on such a senior position.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Step out the office, into one of the conference rooms with good sound-proofing. Listen to the birds outside, and hear the rain falling serenely onto the concrete plaza below. Hear a man coughing, hear your phone ringing, and answer with a greeting. The room is booked out - bugger. Move to the adjacent room, further away from Sheridan so he cannot hear you and cannot see nor hear your emotions. Take all the time you need, you need the courage.
Do not yet have the courage, so call up Barlow, ask him to take a look at charcoal plant for Timmins. Ask if the plans are on time, and whether the power stations are ready for integration with the charcoal plant. Reply received is cheery - typical Barlow - and then interrupted by a tap on the door. Sheridan asks whether to fax the main party office about the potential promotion, the reply shall be to the negative, only one to state it is to be the party leader and the Leading Member. Thank the heavens that you did not have enough courage, send Sheridan off for lunch or something because the phone call is very important. He buggers off.
Resume call with Barlow, his family is doing very well, and he thinks of buying a new motor-car before the Ontario stock runs out, since the factories are in an area claimed only by anarchy. Relay the information, get told the opposite is true and Wisconsin has taken over, the same question is asked again to self, and the answer is not negative, but instead to just do it anyways. Line is off, that’s the end of that conversation.
Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out again.
Decide to pluck up the courage to call Matias again, fail again, try again, somehow succeed. Operator doesn’t want to chat, so all the better. Matias picks up, does not seem very tired, is home phone so office has redirected him, must be enjoying April where it isn’t pouring. Chat away the formalities, realise that he anticipates the real reason for calling as much as you dread saying it, get things straight and say all the right words in a tired yet determined voice.
“Fine. There is nothing against this split, but we need to keep party unity, I’d dread to think if we were tied up with Wisconsin or Minnesota or both, so the IUP isn’t to be joined, got it? I know you and Jarno are a bit tired of myself, and I will retire once my tenure here is done, and yes, you were supposed to be my successor. Please, I like your suggestion to be the ‘Congress of Thought’, but just call it the Congress, alright? It works, it has a ring, and I’d think the country will soon hear of it. We’ll announce it for Easter-time, okay? I hope that works, because the legislation season is about to start, and we need to do as much as possible to get this country firmly under control. I hope you understand, Mati, what we need to do.”
Voice on the other end of the line does understand, and so the farewells are stated, hear a couple of voices in the background and the name of ‘Mark’, must be a personal friend or perhaps a child? Maybe the child’s friend? Is the holidays, is time for the young ones to be at home, will see Mati once the 1968 Easter is finished. Phone goes dead, the sobbing starts, tears of stress and joy and sadness all mix together.
It may be the start of the end. It is only considered, and not acted upon.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.
Let it all out.
Let it end.
Let the opacity end.
Compose self to meet local business leaders at a conference, prepare for dullness and blank faces.
Never a consistent moment in LM George Ewart Nixon’s life.
Never ever, forever.
{QU016, CM Fuel, Holidays Now 2 Weeks Off}
[M- Favourite post in a while, makes a nice change in style eh?]

I've taken 2 different Taycan test drive. In the first one (2021 base) I drove about 4 miles and the battery range went from 178 to 158. The 2nd (2020 Turbo) was similar but I drove about 3 miles and it from 171 to 157. The salesman said the meter is just an estimate and can vary widely. I'm not convinced this is but a sign that the battery is losing efficiency. I should note that both of these cars were at non-porsche dealerships. So they aren't not CPO and the factory warranty is up. I know there is an 8 yr warranty on the battery though.
Is that drop in battery range normal for a Taycan this old? Should I limit my shopping options to Porsche dealers or use the non CPO think as leverage in negotiation?

I bought a new car this past Friday in California. The loan was not approved and they asked for my wife's proof of residence as the salesman told us to use the same address (which she has no record of being at).
The auto loan has a nice APR that is significantly less than my student loans. I was going to pay off the car and continue to pay the student loans but realized it would be better for me to pay off the student loans and take the auto loan.
I have heard that the loan application is in some state that is necessary prior to me driving the car off the lot. I have excellent credit (> 800) blah blah blah. I don't know if I'm going to make people mad or they will make me continue with the higher down payment. What are my best options to get what I want, which is a larger loan?
Right now, I left a message with the salesman who did the sale b/c he wanted me to send proof of residence. I haven't heard from him. I imagine he is busy b/c Memorial Day weekend. I live about 40 mins from the dealer and am trying to avoid a trip out.

Context:
As a 2L I took an internship at a red flag sweat shop pre lit settlement mill in PI. I only did this because I liked the guy who interviewed me (we went to the same school, were the same age, and he seemed chill.)
Fast forward - I cruise through the internship, turn down other more lucrative offers, and accept this pre-lit sweatshop job offer for 80k.
When job starts - the guy I like is not my supervising attorney. Instead it was a bait and switch into a really aggressive shady dude who went to one of the worst law schools in Texas, failed the bar, and seemed to make it in life by being a snake at a settlement mill. The way I’ve seen him give up on clients he coulda helped was flat out gross.
“We’re above pts - don’t negotiate bills down for client more, just keep it moving.”
Fast forward - I put up numbers for a while but me and this dude hate each other (huge part of it is my fault - I own my immaturity there. Maybe the elitist aspect of me about his bar failure and worst school in America didn’t allow me to respect him) but I just felt hoodwinked giving this used car salesman my career. The way he treated me was bizarre. He’d scream at me no matter what I did.
Fast forward - in this pre-lit mill I was doing above average (400-600k settlements a month) but getting shit on unprofessionally by this guy constantly.
I had a few temper tantrums in response (I own it), so he embarked on a campaign to trigger me as much as possible to save his face before the business owner (business owner of mill wanted it to work with me cause i brought value).
My supervising attorney, as a 5 year settlement mill playa who knew all the support staff well- got all his cronies to mimick and humiliate me in a cubicle for months - it was hard to process.
Finally - after trying to reach common ground with him as long as possible, I gave him an e-mail telling him I respect him (but am onto his mimick game) so I want to put in my 2 weeks and look for another job.
He responded by circulating the email to the entire office, convincing all of his cronies to make fun of me all day - then finally make the guy who hired me (and I liked) walk me out.
Also - this firm tries to convince lawyers to risk their license and do out of state settlements without having a home base lawyer on the project getting 10 percent.
It’s the ultimate gross red flag sweatshop. I’ve only been practicing for 7 months and don’t know how to process this still.
I def blew it at points but I got hired again within 48 hours at a real trial firm. Salary went from 80 to six figures. The supervising attorney treats me with respect and loves doing things by the book (we pro hoc into other states)
So why can’t I get over this? My life is better in every way. I even have an office instead of cubicle.
I’m really shook to my core - I was treated with such disdain and walked out after I gave that firm so much 210+ hours a month and hella elbow grease.
Business owner had to greenlight the walkout to stick with the loyal supervising attorney whose resume probably couldn’t land matching salaries on the open market. He’s making 200+ in pre litigation business mgmt.

This is going to be a very long post. To give some context:
I (20m and homeschooled) live with my three younger siblings and our parents. I'm a full-time college student taking all my classes online (so fun), and I'm projected to graduate Fall 2025 with a bachelor's in business administration. My mother (the bread winner) works essentially 24/7 at some investment bank making 6 figures, and my dad is obsessed with renovating old houses and real estate and "homeschools" the kids (all he really does is slap some videos up on the computers and lets us handle our own educations :/)
My parents have a "family vision" for my mom to quit her job and all of us working together flipping house and doing all kinds of stuff in the real estate market so we can all retire early and do whatever entrepreneurial endeavors our hearts desire.
Sounds fine-ish. But it isn't. It's literally a prison, and I'm tired of it.
My mother and father are the textbook definition of helicopter parents. We stay home 90% of the time, with most of my "going out" being our trips to restaurants, grocery stores, and Lowes. I have one friend I sometimes see once a month, but the rest are all online. Our schedule is hectic and we're always making trips, which makes it almost impossible for me to go to see people, go to church regularly, or hold down a regular job.
All of us "kids" (20m 19m, 16f, and 14f) are also being constantly monitored. They have Alexa's in almost every room and out of sight so it's impossible to tell if they're silently listening in (which has happened at least once, to my knowledge). They've installed Family Link on all our phones and can disable any of our devices at will for any reason. He can access my google account and see any and all emails and texts I send out (which he has actually done, several times), meaning that I can't say anything too incriminating to others without him knowing. They also has some sort of IP or Web blocking app that can tell him who's on what website and can block anyone on the home's WIFI network from accessing certain sites. He's deleted all web Browers except for Microsoft Edge off our computers so we can't use incognito or make guest accounts on Google Chrome either. The only reason I'm able to sometimes access the internet is through my cell data or running to the library like I'm doing right now, but my cell data is limited, and he can still see what apps I use on my phone, hence the library.
My parents are also extremely narcissistic, aggressive, and petty, but my father is the worst. He wants me and my brother (who is socially and mentally challenged) to work with him to renovate homes, but his constant bullying, picking, angry outbursts, and yelling at us (but especially my brother) has driven me insane. I have no desire to work on homes. I absolutely hate it, not because of the physical labor (though I'm not too fond of it), but simply working with my dad in such a toxic environment has tried every ounce of patience I have. He ridicules me and calls me "Low-T" if I say no to anything he wants me to do and loves to make mountains out of mole hills by taking away our privileges or launching into long lectures or "discussion" where he talks at us for over an hour.
Finally, I just had enough. At one of our family meetings, I brought up how I felt we were all overly coddled, and that now it has severely affected me mentally. I actively avoid confrontation and am extremely unmotivated to do anything as a result of feeling trapped by an unstoppable force, which has led me to become very depressed and antisocial. I also feel very codependent and unable to function as an adult. I have no driver's license and have never had a real job either as a result of this. I said I hated working on the house and went out of my way to avoid it at times, and that my father was a bully for the way he treated all of us every day. He'd throw things on the floor when he was pissed and yells all the time, but he thinks that's fine. They think they're perfect, but they're not. About a month ago my sister actually called the police for a domestic disturbance when my parents had too much to drink and got into a huge fight (whether it was physical or not, I still don't know). Of course, they tried to gaslight us into thinking that the amount of wine they drank (2 and half bottles between the two of them) was not enough to make them drunk, and that we were in the wrong for bring the police into it and for thinking that our Dad would actually attack our mother.
I told them that while they pulled my brother out of kindergarten so he wouldn't be bullied for being mentally challenged, they themselves ended up becoming the bullies in his life by treating him like crap every day, to the point where I think I will have to take care of him for the rest of my life, due to the damage that they've done to him.
Obviously, they went ballistic.
I've never been called so many names in my life. They said I was acting like "the children of Israel trying to go back to Egypt" that I was immature, selfish, self-righteous, disrespectful, and an ass. I didn't say anything back so I wouldn't make stuff worse and pretty much disappeared to my room (which I share with my three other siblings). I didn't talk to them for three whole days after that, until yesterday when they finally decided to grace me with their presence.
My parents said that they were going to give me what I want, and that they were going to remove all their "goodness" from my life.
What this meant was that I was expected to find a job and a car within the next two weeks, and that I needed to pay for my own car insurance and take care of my own transportation since they wouldn't be helping me. They also wanted me to get my own laptop to do my school on (which I think they will probably monitor, since it uses their wifi). They would not charge me rent to live with them, and they would provide food for me when they were in town. They also said they still had health insurance on me, but they made it clear that at the moment they wanted to keep their contact with me to a minimum for the time being while I was living with them, and that when they were out of town or when I was at work, I was on my own.
So now I come to you, people of reddit. What do I do?
I have $5K in cash I can spend. No debt (never owned a credit card). I don't have a license, but they still want me to buy a car and get it insured, even if it rots in the driveway until I can get a license (which they said they wouldn't help me with getting, and that I would have to pay for my own lessons and fees). They also said something about Title fees that I've never heard of before. I don't feel like I should push them on letting me just not get the car and bike to work instead, since they said, "If you show your ass again, you're paying rent." This limits where I can work and what I can do a lot, I know. But I live in a small town, and there's some grocery stores (A Food Lion & Kroger), some fast-food places (Pizza Hut, Wendy's, and other common ones), and some other stores within walking/biking distance and hiring. I have a resume that I needed to make to get into business school, but I've pretty much never worked for another person outside of my dad for my entire life.
I probably need a part time job, since I still am doing college full-time until Fall 2025. I've found a few cheap cars under $4k, and to insure them would be around $170-$210 a month. Keep in mind I also need money for a laptop, and some money left over to cover food at some point. I don't have any subscriptions monthly fees to anything at the moment. I also don't have a bank or credit account/credit score, so I probably will need those.
As for my relationship with my parents, I don't want to go back to working for them, but I still want to repair our relationship despite them saying "time won't heal it" and that "You ruined our plans for the future." I feel like even if I did go back to them, I would be under their thumb for the rest of my life. I still love them and want to have a relationship with them, but at the same time I want to be independent and LIVE gosh darn it, and until we have some boundaries, or they have a major personality change, I don't see that happening.
Due to the internet restrictions, I probably won't be able to check up on this sub till I can sneak away to the library again, but when I do, I will try to comment and reply. Thanks in advance

This is going to be a very long post. To give some context:
I (20m and homeschooled) live with my three younger siblings and our parents. I'm a full-time college student taking all my classes online (so fun), and I'm projected to graduate Fall 2025 with a bachelor's in business administration. My mother (the bread winner) works essentially 24/7 at some investment bank making 6 figures, and my dad is obsessed with renovating old houses and real estate and "homeschools" the kids (all he really does is slap some videos up on the computers and lets us handle our own educations :/)
My parents have a "family vision" for my mom to quit her job and all of us working together flipping house and doing all kinds of stuff in the real estate market so we can all retire early and do whatever entrepreneurial endeavors our hearts desire.
Sounds fine-ish. But it isn't. It's literally a prison, and I'm tired of it.
My mother and father are the textbook definition of helicopter parents. We stay home 90% of the time, with most of my "going out" being our trips to restaurants, grocery stores, and Lowes. I have one friend I sometimes see once a month, but the rest are all online. Our schedule is hectic and we're always making trips, which makes it almost impossible for me to go to see people, go to church regularly, or hold down a regular job.
All of us "kids" (20m 19m, 16f, and 14f) are also being constantly monitored. They have Alexa's in almost every room and out of sight so it's impossible to tell if they're silently listening in (which has happened at least once, to my knowledge). They've installed Family Link on all our phones and can disable any of our devices at will for any reason. He can access my google account and see any and all emails and texts I send out (which he has actually done, several times), meaning that I can't say anything too incriminating to others without him knowing. They also has some sort of IP or Web blocking app that can tell him who's on what website and can block anyone on the home's WIFI network from accessing certain sites. He's deleted all web Browers except for Microsoft Edge off our computers so we can't use incognito or make guest accounts on Google Chrome either. The only reason I'm able to sometimes access the internet is through my cell data or running to the library like I'm doing right now, but my cell data is limited, and he can still see what apps I use on my phone, hence the library.
My parents are also extremely narcissistic, aggressive, and petty, but my father is the worst. He wants me and my brother (who is socially and mentally challenged) to work with him to renovate homes, but his constant bullying, picking, angry outbursts, and yelling at us (but especially my brother) has driven me insane. I have no desire to work on homes. I absolutely hate it, not because of the physical labor (though I'm not too fond of it), but simply working with my dad in such a toxic environment has tried every ounce of patience I have. He ridicules me and calls me "Low-T" if I say no to anything he wants me to do and loves to make mountains out of mole hills by taking away our privileges or launching into long lectures or "discussion" where he talks at us for over an hour.
Finally, I just had enough. At one of our family meetings, I brought up how I felt we were all overly coddled, and that now it has severely affected me mentally. I actively avoid confrontation and am extremely unmotivated to do anything as a result of feeling trapped by an unstoppable force, which has led me to become very depressed and antisocial. I also feel very codependent and unable to function as an adult. I have no driver's license and have never had a real job either as a result of this. I said I hated working on the house and went out of my way to avoid it at times, and that my father was a bully for the way he treated all of us every day. He'd throw things on the floor when he was pissed and yells all the time, but he thinks that's fine. They think they're perfect, but they're not. About a month ago my sister actually called the police for a domestic disturbance when my parents had too much to drink and got into a huge fight (whether it was physical or not, I still don't know). Of course, they tried to gaslight us into thinking that the amount of wine they drank (2 and half bottles between the two of them) was not enough to make them drunk, and that we were in the wrong for bring the police into it and for thinking that our Dad would actually attack our mother.
I told them that while they pulled my brother out of kindergarten so he wouldn't be bullied for being mentally challenged, they themselves ended up becoming the bullies in his life by treating him like crap every day, to the point where I think I will have to take care of him for the rest of my life, due to the damage that they've done to him.
Obviously, they went ballistic.
I've never been called so many names in my life. They said I was acting like "the children of Israel trying to go back to Egypt" that I was immature, selfish, self-righteous, disrespectful, and an ass. I didn't say anything back so I wouldn't make stuff worse and pretty much disappeared to my room (which I share with my three other siblings). I didn't talk to them for three whole days after that, until yesterday when they finally decided to grace me with their presence.
My parents said that they were going to give me what I want, and that they were going to remove all their "goodness" from my life.
What this meant was that I was expected to find a job and a car within the next two weeks, and that I needed to pay for my own car insurance and take care of my own transportation since they wouldn't be helping me. They also wanted me to get my own laptop to do my school on (which I think they will probably monitor, since it uses their wifi). They would not charge me rent to live with them, and they would provide food for me when they were in town. They also said they still had health insurance on me, but they made it clear that at the moment they wanted to keep their contact with me to a minimum for the time being while I was living with them, and that when they were out of town or when I was at work, I was on my own.
So now I come to you, people of reddit. What do I do?
I have $5K in cash I can spend. No debt (never owned a credit card). I don't have a license, but they still want me to buy a car and get it insured, even if it rots in the driveway until I can get a license (which they said they wouldn't help me with getting, and that I would have to pay for my own lessons and fees). They also said something about Title fees that I've never heard of before. I don't feel like I should push them on letting me just not get the car and bike to work instead, since they said, "If you show your ass again, you're paying rent." This limits where I can work and what I can do a lot, I know. But I live in a small town, and there's some grocery stores (A Food Lion & Kroger), some fast-food places (Pizza Hut, Wendy's, and other common ones), and some other stores within walking/biking distance and hiring. I have a resume that I needed to make to get into business school, but I've pretty much never worked for another person outside of my dad for my entire life.
I probably need a part time job, since I still am doing college full-time until Fall 2025. I've found a few cheap cars under $4k, and to insure them would be around $170-$210 a month. Keep in mind I also need money for a laptop, and some money left over to cover food at some point. I don't have any subscriptions monthly fees to anything at the moment. I also don't have a bank or credit account/credit score, so I probably will need those.
As for my relationship with my parents, I don't want to go back to working for them, but I still want to repair our relationship despite them saying "time won't heal it" and that "You ruined our plans for the future." I feel like even if I did go back to them, I would be under their thumb for the rest of my life. I still love them and want to have a relationship with them, but at the same time I want to be independent and LIVE gosh darn it, and until we have some boundaries, or they have a major personality change, I don't see that happening.
Due to the internet restrictions, I probably won't be able to check up on this sub till I can sneak away to the library again, but when I do, I will try to comment and reply. Thanks in advance

Hello! Sorry for being lengthy. I want to make this concise as I can without too much negativity, but I also want a little background for how I ended up here. I also want to preface by saying that I know that I'm not that old in the grand scheme of things, I can always try again, most people don't love their jobs etc. But I also want to start making concrete decisions, and I don't have as much benefit of the doubt at my age. The time WILL pass regardless, I just need to take a step!
Anyways, I'm nearly 27, Midwestern, grew up somewhat sheltered, virtual homeschooled, and still live with my large nuclear family. I do housework, cook, help my siblings with school, and help with emergency cash, but I want to contribute to bills until I can move out. I have a HS Diploma, but not a high GPA as I legitimately didn't think I'd make it this far, so I didn't focus much. I worked for 10 years as an (unpaid) teacher's assistant at my old church for K-2nd grade until 2016. Besides sporadic community volunteer work, I hadn't worked again until 2019 at Chipotle. Didn't love it, but I worked hard and liked most of my customers and coworkers. I started saving for a car so I could learn, but once the pandemic hit, I had to step down for my and my family's health.
I had the opportunity to take a free Cybersecurity bootcamp to train for CompTIA A+, but even though I passed the course, fear of failing and wasting money stopped me from getting my cert. I've been using my year of savings to pay for things, but I have practically nothing left. I've been hardcore applying to jobs for a year in anticipation of losing my insurance, but with my employment gaps and weird job history, I keep coming up short. And since I never moved up from line server at Chip, I don't have concrete success numbers/metrics or management skills to put on my resume. I want to take charge of my life, start taking courses and either get certified, or go get a degree. I'm just completely indecisive on what path to take! I don't have a specific interest at all, I just want something mostly stable. The time doesn't phase me and I know I can learn anything, but I want to focus on a position/field that is less likely to be obsolete in 5-10 years. I want to help pay bills, save up for a car, and eventually move out.
I am moderately computer savvy, write 50WPM so far, have been complimented for patience, tenacity and upbeat demeanor at work. I love looking things up and watching and reading essays and deep dives. I have artistic ability, but not enough output to make a career off of it alone. I have mild memory problems, but I am working on mitigating them. I have respiratory issues, so I can't do anything heavily active. I only have proper contact information for one of my bosses for references, and don't have many connections outside of who my dad knows in IT.
I've taken some career tests this week, mostly variants on Holland codes. I've gotten high Artistic and Social scores, with Investigative and Conventional close behind. I've looked into some suggested careers, plus my own external research, and here are a few I've considered:

• Teacher: I constantly go back to this, since I wanted to teach for years, and every test mentioned this option. I do like working with kids overall. But I'm always stopped by the salary, and going back to school to barely make a living seems like poorly used time. And the current state of being a teacher seems bleak!
• UI/UX/Web Dev: I've looked into this option as I'd be able to use some creativity in tech. However, I constantly see that the field is over-saturated and hard to get in to. I've also seen it mentioned so often that I doubt I'd be competitive among others. I'm considering taking a course to see how I feel about it, and I do know a bit of code.
• Paralegal: I like research, wouldn't mind clerical work, and assisting with law without having to be the public face sounds interesting. But I've also seen people say it's heavy hours and low respect. I'd like to work in a law field that feels meaningful to me, like labor law, but I'm not sure how picky I could be.
• Technical writing: Started to deep dive here recently. There's not as much talk about the position so it feels less...overplayed? The idea of taking technical jargon and converting it for laypeople sounds pretty cool, especially as there still is a social aspect to it. However, I know I'd likely need a Bachelors, and experience in a particular field to break in.
• Accounting: Another that I've seen here and there, mostly saying that it's stable and well paid (and I have a cousin who proves that). I know that people say it's not heavy math, but I'm still apprehensive. Looking into it more, the hours also seem pretty heavy. But, doing my "boring" office work then having money for free time seems nice.
• CyberSec/Data Analytics/etc: Going back to get my A+ cert and working in IT. I did already invest time, and I do have plenty of resources. But it was hard for me to be fully into the tech industry side, I kinda felt like a fraud. And paying such a high assessment fee to possibly fail still makes me apprehensive. But, again, the pay could be amazing, and I do love problem solving.
• EditoProofreading: Something I've done on the side for my siblings before, and also at the top of some of my career tests. However, I'm worried how much if this will be phased out by automation, and I didn't see great prospects when I looked into it more.
• Science or History related careers: ?? I've had moderate interest in both since school, but I never specialized in any niches.

At the core of it all, I want something mostly stable, livable wages with money left to be able to help others, and doesn't directly harm anyone. Something where I'm not only helping corporate interests, even if that's most of it. An extra desire would be to eventually be partially/fully remote in regard to my health concerns, but it may not be realistic. All I know is that I don't want anything military or strictly sales related, and I don't think I have the constitution for nursing.
Thanks in advance for any help!

Session 0: https://www.reddit.com/DeltaGreenRPG/comments/1d0l92x/impossible_landscapes_session_0/
(Okay, these will be long. Five players, lmao. Hadn't quite accounted for that)
Operation ALICE, New York, 1995
The Roster (Player/Character)
Lea (she/her): Jules Gradkowska - Agent MIRANDA. Journalist - research and human intelligence.
Iain (he/him): Ralph Bevis - Agent MILHOUSE. Academic - history and occult specialist.
Quinn (he/him): Richard Delapore - Agent MAVERICK. FBI Special Agent - criminal and forensic expert and the official 'face' of the investigation.
Phil (he/him): Jean Duvall - Agent MAIN. US Navy Master Chief Petty Officer - operational security specialist.
Duncan (he/him): Jake Little - Agent MALATESTA. Civilian contractor - computer and electronic specialist with a side line in hacking.
Rob_sothoth (he/him) - Handler. The arbiter of the world: the good, the bad and that which cannot and should not be named.
Background: The Agents of M-Cell are tasked with investigating the apartment of Abigail Wright. Missing since June, Delta Green has reason to suspect para-natural involvement. Their orders are simple: catalogue the apartment and remove anything deemed suspect for destruction.
Despite heavy changes made, full spoiler warning for Impossible Landscapes.

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Session 1 "The Apartment" (May 24th, 2024)
New York: Tuesday, August 8th, 1995
1:45pm - 3:32pm, EST
Entering the lobby of the Macallistar building in Kips Bay, NYC, the Agents first make a sweep of Abigail's mailbox. Agent MARCUS (M-Cell Case Officer) provided them with a complete set of keys, not to be copied. The mailbox is stuffed full with bills, junk mail, catalogues and offers; mail still being delivered by people who have no idea Abigail is missing. MAVERICK gathers it in a bag and they make their way to Abigail's apartment (Ground floor).
The Macallistar echoes an earlier age. Faded purple carpeting and design from the turn of the century. Opposite Abigail's front door is an old-fashioned telephone nook, complete with bench and curtain for comfort and privacy when phone-lines in individual apartment was an expense few could afford.
M-Cell enters the apartment, finding it somewhere between a hoarder's dream and crime-scene technician's nightmare. The small hallway leads to a living-room (the apartment's largest space), an adjoining bedroom and a kitchen and bathroom opposite each other. Aside from the hallway, on first inspection the only other uncluttered space is the kitchen, which doesn't really look as if it's been used much. MAVERICK ear-marks that as something he wants to check himself as the team begin taking stock.
The NYPD has left a box with copies of their files, including a list of tenants they interviewed, many, many evidence collection bags and a box of latex gloves.
The apartment is filled with various items, with almost no floor visible beneath the collection. CDs and CD cases are stuck or glued to the wall, along with mannequin parts, sketches and assorted pieces that might be ceramic or plastic arranged in odd patterns without reason or rhyme. Stacks of phone books, stretches of dyed fabrics stitched together, an antique claw-footed lamp. Bags, bundles of pictures (drawings and photographs) of seeming nonsense. No furniture is immediately visible in the chaotic mess.
MAIN finds the same result in the bedroom as the first Search rolls are called for. Something catches his eye in the anarchy of the bedroom.
MALATESTA begins sorting through the pile of mail. MILHOUSE at first begins helping, but seeing the scale of the cataloguing, volunteers to make a coffee and food run. MIRANDA begins photographing, while MAVERICK gloves up and asks for things to be passed to him such as brushes, anything with a handle really or something more likely to have fingerprints on it. He wants to see if he can grab a set of Abigail's prints, if that's possible.
It doesn't take MALATESTA long to work out Abigail stopped paying her rent and bills in or around March before disappearing in June. Money was coming in up to a certain point, apparently from a showing Abigail had at the Mercury Gallery in Greenwich Village in November the previous year. There's even a letter from the gallery owner asking about another possible showing; from the way it's written, it might not have been the first time he spoke to Abigail before she vanished. Then, the only money coming in appears to be from her father, though she doesn't appear to have used it to cover the rent. He also gets the building management company, Art Life and their address.
As the Agents work, with MAIN carefully picking his way through the bedroom towards whatever caught his eye and MAVERICK uncovers a battery-powered hi-fi under all the trash, MILHOUSE returns from his coffee run and bumps into someone else entering the Macallistar at the same time he is. After an awkward hesitation on the threshold, MILHOUSE spends a little chatting to Lewis Post, one of Abigail's neighbours. MILHOUSE passes a HUMINT roll and I ruled that having spent most of his time in academics and his fellow PhDs, he can spot signs of some kind of social anxiety. I felt that was a fair get for a good success.
Lewis is hesitant but forthcoming as MILHOUSE works that high charisma score, knowing what to say to diffuse any potential tension. As far as Lewis knows, he is FBI of some kind after all.
MILHOUSE: "Did she ever mention a boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
Lewis: "Our relationship wasn't really like that. We had coffee sometimes. Talked about art. The process." He thinks. "She might have mentioned someone, but not a name, only what they did. A salesman, but I couldn't tell you what they sold."
MILHOUSE: "Talk about anything else?"
Lewis begins heading upstairs "She mentioned moving, but not before she was ready."
Back in the apartment, MAIN voices what others were thinking. "Where was she staying?" No bed, no signs of habitation except for the assorted hoard of crap. MAIN finds a hand grenade nestled in some papers and art supplies near the bedroom's walk-in closet.
In the living room, MAVERICK finds a single cassette tape in the uncovered hi-fi and flips it on, finding the batteries still live. Everyone hears MAVERICK's conversation with his significant other, Natalie from the previous evening. MAVERICK realises it's cut up and out of order, rewinds it and then flips it over. He thinks the entire conversation has been split between A & B sides of the tape.
MALATESTA and MAVERICK both consider phone-tapping, but MAIN, grenade temporarily forgotten, asks how it ended up here?
SAN check for MAVERICK. Pocketing the cassette tape, MAVERICK closes down a bit and prepares to go over the kitchen with a fine tooth comb; perhaps this is how he copes?
Before MAIN can mention the grenade he's worried about, MIRANDA, MALATESTA, MILHOUSE & MAVERICK notice something on the wall behind where the hi-fi was previously buried under junk. Fixed to the wall, maybe with some kind of glue is a piece of brown packing-paper with some kind of symbol drawn on it. Everyone focuses on it.

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3:41pm to 5:22pm, EST
MALATESTA: "That certainly looks like what we're supposed to be worried about."
MIRANDA snaps a polaroid. MILHOUSE tries to examine it, but his Occult check can only give him the vague thought it's connected to demonology, but little else beyond that. MAVERICK is cautious, but more concerned about getting to work on the unusually spotless kitchen.
Carefully, MIRANDA removes it and a blaring sounds like something between a horn blast and explosion almost deafens the Agents. It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, from right next to them and outside at the same time.
Everyone passes a CONx5 check and the subsequent SAN check. Through the living room's window, MIRANDA, MILHOUSE and MAIN see a yellow-cab in the street outside. The cabbie appears to have leaned on the horn as someone crosses the street. They appear heavily dressed for summer, possibly homeless.
Is that a snake draped across their shoulders?
MIRANDA takes a polaroid while MILHOUSE and MAIN head outside to investigate. The picture reveals in sharp clarity, the cabbie staring down the barrel as she snapped the shot directly at her. MAVERICK gets to work in the kitchen and MALATESTA picks over things in the living room and bedroom respectively.
Search rolls for those in the apartment.
Outside, the cab has turned the corner and the pedestrian has carried on, though MAIN and MILHOUSE are able to work out where they went. MILHOUSE heads to cut off the other side of the alley, while MAIN approaches from behind, getting the pedestrian's attention. It's the height of summer in NYC, the air reeks of gasoline, rotting garbage and baking, soiled concrete and asphalt.
MAIN finds a nondescript, seemingly homeless man by the state of his clothes, but with a python draped over his shoulders. MAIN strikes up conversation, lighting a Gitane cigarette and pointing to the snake. From the other end of the alley, MILHOUSE makes his way towards the pair.
MAIN fails an alertness check.
Is this guy sweating? It's hot and he's bundled up like it's winter. Is he sweating? Why isn't he sweating?
Back in the apartment, MAVERICK tests the kitchen for blood and body fluids, breaking out the spray bottle and UV light. There's no cutlery, glassware or dishware anywhere in the room, but as he's lifting what could be a print, finds a mechanical diagram drawn on a napkin taped above the inside of an otherwise empty drawer. MALATESTA & MIRANDA continue their search of the living and bedroom, with MALATESTA finding a card printed with the following:
"For a good time Call D - 999-202-9989"
On the reverse are a series of what appear to be street corner addresses in Brooklyn. Could be a sex-line, could be a way to see Red Band underground film screenings, could be something online related. MALATESTA drifts between a few circles and he pockets it out of curiosity. When MIRANDA locates the grenade in the bedroom, she is careful to give it a wide berth and locates what MAIN missed: a backpack radio in the bedroom's walk-in closet. She calls MALATESTA over.
Back in the alleyway, MILHOUSE rolls under 10% and passes his disguise check. Dressed casually and a college athlete to boot, he fits the general chad look in his New York Knicks shirt despite his academic leanings. Being loud and obnoxious like he's drunk, he barrels into the homeless guy with the snake who stonewalled MAIN.
Instead he hits MAIN as the man with the snake is there and gone in the space between blinks. One moment MAIN is looking at him and then MILHOUSE knocks him flat on his ass. Like a film edit. Just gone. MAIN crit fails his SAN check and takes 4 SAN loss without projecting. Instead, as he scrambles up begins kicking over trash cans and searching the alley while MILHOUSE tries to calm him down and get a handle on things.
As MILHOUSE is talking MAIN out of tearing the alley apart, MIRANDA and MALATESTA check out the radio. As it comes to life, they listen and hear the following:
"Exeter. India. One. Thirteen. Sierra. Twenty. Twenty. Forty-nine."
MAVERICK meanwhile, finding the kitchen bare oddly finds the refrigerator stocked. There isn't much inside, some milk unopened and a pack of cheese and deli meat. Expiration is months ago, but through the plastic and glass of the bottle it looks fresh. Curious, he opens the milk and finds it smells as fresh as the day it was bought. Months ago.
Passes his SAN check. Given what he heard on the tape, it's not the strangest thing today.
MAIN and MILHOUSE detour to grab some more coffees, more to calm MAIN down and give him a (successful CHAx5 check) to flirt with the coffeeshop waitress. On their return, MAIN heads into the bedroom, pulls the pin on the grenade and activates the firing lever.
Nothing happens. His "hunch" was correct. Despite failing to properly identify it, something about the shape of it didn't match modern ordnance. Like the radio, it's vintage and either deactivated or else rendered inert by time and age.
I gave MAIN a SAN point back, because why not?
As things begin winding down, MILHOUSE and MAVERICK puzzle over the weird fridge, with MILHOUSE sacrificing his green tea and MAVERICK a donut to see how "fresh" they are come morning between the fridge and not.

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After 6pm, EST
Between them, M-Cell take the rest of the evening to take care of home-scenes or any unfinished business they can get done with their resources at hand. They also divide the Operational evidence from the Case evidence, with MIRANDA taking the symbol, MALATESTA the backpack radio & phone number, MAVERICK the cassette tape (for obvious reasons) and MAIN the mechanical sketch on the napkin.
MIRANDA and MILHOUSE, using the former's academic credentials both stay on the case, with MIRANDA leaving her photos from the park to develop in her bathroom. While she fails her roll, she does help MILHOUSE identify the demon the symbol refers to and book-related lead. She hits up a criminal contact named Hugo to put out feelers for weird items she may be interested in. He agrees for a fee, which she negotiates in her favour.
Returning to her apartment, MIRANDA finds her photos of the dancing clown and watching crowd have developed. In every photograph, the clown is turned away from her, but the faces in the crowd are looking at her. That's not how she remembers it. Fails a SAN check. Projects on to her editor, knowing she's going to be taking a "personal day" tomorrow, and this after she agreed to go to the grill.
This will have consequences.
MAIN, unnerved by the day's events, not the least of which was being knocked on his ass by a fitter, younger man, heads out. He returns to the coffeeshop he and MILHOUSE visited and takes the waitress he hit on out on a date. After a romantic interlude, MAIN has a new bond. Her name's Marsha, she's 27 and very nice.
Breaking Operational Security, MAVERICK asks MALATESTA to come back to his apartment and check for possible surveillance. Despite suffering comparatively little SAN loss overall, MAVERICK is letting the day's events impact his behaviour.
It's trivially easy for MALATESTA to confirm there are no bugs in place, which really does narrow the options for how the conversation could have been recorded. Thankful, he asks MALATESTA to keep this to himself for now, to which the grunge-kid agrees. MAVERICK drops MALATESTA near his home and leaves, putting the tape in the player of his car as he pulls away.
MALATESTA lives near the Village and diverts to check out the Mercury Gallery. Though closed, it seems legit and he makes a note of it for later. Back at home, he breaks open the backpack radio and examines it. The battery is not connected to the radio itself, the wires having been stripped out, yet he and MIRANDA both heard a voice on the end of its phone-mic. He passes his SAN check and finds in place of one of the transistors a small, black stone which does not feel like stone at all and feels like it's body temperature. MALATESTA leaves it on his desk, covered in a cloth.
Alone in his apartment, MAVERICK watches his phone. The time comes and he does not call Natalie. A moment later, his phone rings.
Alone in the apartment, MAVERICK does not answer.

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Post-Mortem
We ended up playing for a touch longer than I intended, but I knew that would happen by the time the cab sounded its horn. Despite some tiredness and some drinking, we ended up with a really strong session in retrospect, which has set the overall tone of the campaign for me as GM going forward. Between the five players, two have been through one Delta Green campaign, one has experience with Pulp Cthulhu and two have varying levels of exposure. They all roleplayed the f##k out of their characters and while I was worried about just how weird I wanted things to get out the gate, it feels like the balance is correct and I've given enough avenues for further investigation they may want to pursue.
I got a far better sense, as did the players, as to what drives and motivates their characters and how they cope or don't cope with Delta Green work.
MILHOUSE is definitely setting himself up as the curious academic, Iain playing his interest as forever drawn towards what's there "to discover," he said in character. Perhaps a fool and his sanity are easily parted?
MAVERICK is the "all-American", Agent Cooper adjacent FBI Agent who butts up against the para-natural and is seemingly rocked by it, revealing a complicated and perhaps conflicted depth. In his previous operation with MIRANDA, MAVERICK killed one person, but something about this has gotten under his skin. I wonder what Natalie thinks about their missed call?
A hacker by trade, MALATESTA likes a puzzle as much as he does not like the "weird shit." He talks a good talk when it's about something he knows, but is much too shy to chat up his co-worker. He and MAVERICK had some friction in Session 0 when MAVERICK wanted to call him Mal, to which the younger man pushed back against. Yet, he now knows where MAVERICK lives. Maybe he can learn more? What will he do with that? Does he even want to?
As much as MILHOUSE, MIRANDA is likewise driven by curiosity and a need to know, but first and foremost to keep herself safe. She and him are not the same. There's a scar above her hip from a knife, and it still twinges from time to time. She's also the first to directly or indirectly involve a Bond in the investigation. I wonder what Hugo will or won't find? I wonder what those photos mean. MIRANDA wondered aloud whether the crowd or the clown was the "entity." What does that mean?
Despite being built like Jack Reacher (albeit in a sailor suit), MAIN projects a tough air but is clearly a man at the crossroads. He turns 40 before 1995 ends; middle age. When hit with a problem or something he can't otherwise work out, his behaviour swings from one extreme to the other. To date, he's coped with the case by: lashing out at trash cans in an alley. Chatting up a waitress and forming a romantic bond with her. Pulling the pin on a grenade he "thought" could be fake. It's day one. I'm here for it.
Our next session is scheduled for June 7th, 2024.
Until then, be seeing you.

Edit: added w2 employee
Hello, thanks in advance for reading!
I’m in HVAC sales, I drive from appointment to appointment in a company vehicle.
I’m 21m and kind of freaking out. Not sure what to do. Last Thursday I hit a toll arm at 43mph with the company vehicle. My car and myself are completely fine. They brought me into the office and essentially told me this is where we part ways. My managers fought with safety due to my sales abilities and now it’s just up in the air.
Here is some info on me:
100% COMMISSION W2 employee 1) Role: HVAC Salesman
2)Time in position: 1y 3 months
3) Time receiving commission pay: 2y in July
4) W2 2023: $174k
5) YTD: $115k
Basically they brought me in and said that they need someone else to drive me from appointment to appointment. Said that I would have $800/week reduced for the driver to take me from appointment to appointment.. But I can keep my job. This is troublesome as I would now have to drive into the office (35min) and then get picked up to be taken to my first appointment. It’s doable and was told I would have to do it for 3-4months before returning to driving.
I honestly love my manager, my managers manager. I love the people around me and that’s extremely valuable to me as I don’t like selling for people I don’t like.
However I want to explore options for new employment due to the whole driving situation and me being in such thin ice.
Here’s where my house comes into this. Earlier this May I signed for a house projected to be completed in SeptembeOctober. I absolutely love the house, it’s brand new in a great location. I gave an EMD of $15k and with all of this in the air, my status for qualification is in jeopardy.
My mortgage with all fees and dues is $4300/month
If I get a new job doing the exact same thing in the exact same industry and absolutely kill it for the next few months, will they be able to push the loan through? if so how hard do i have to kill it?
Some other info that may be helpful (?) 1) It’s summer right now so this is where $25k+/month is really attainable regardless of company
2) I’m a first time home buyer
3) The builders lender is the one who I am dealing with, they are giving $20k in closing costs as well.
Should I just stay where Im at and thug out the driving? Please let me know what other information may be needed.
Thank you again!

Hi so like, I got an interview for my dream job but I’m having a hard time with the reference part since the jobs I highlighted on said resume and in interview ended poorly
For my last job I got hit by a car and then cussed out and I just flat out quit (I’m fine, cops involved and everything done rightly so)
My job before that was very abusive (constantly yelled at, threats constantly to the point where my mom (she was HR for her base in the coast guard) told me to walk out right then and there)
I loved these jobs but they did end poorly with me walking out (I’m 23)
Can I hire someone to pretend? Or is that unethical? My friends won’t lie for me either (it’s unethical to them)

Hi so like, I got an interview for my dream job but I’m having a hard time with the reference part since the jobs I highlighted on said resume and in interview ended poorly
For my last job I got hit by a car and then cussed out and I just flat out quit (I’m fine, cops involved and everything done rightly so)
My job before that was very abusive (constantly yelled at, threats constantly to the point where my mom (she was HR for her base in the coast guard) told me to walk out right then and there)
I loved these jobs but they did end poorly with me walking out (I’m 23)
Can I hire someone to pretend? Or is that unethical? My friends won’t lie for me either (it’s unethical to them)

Afternoon y'all. I live in Florida. I've been in the field since about 2018 now. Started at a tech school, got an internship at a Benz dealer in 2019, worked there until about a year ago, was (am if Benz doesn't remove CERTs) fully certified for regular Benz, had a few of the AMG certs. Average about 50-60 hours flat rate there at 32 an hour, but I absolutely hated that dealership. I kept my head down, arrived at 8 on the dot, left at 5 and dot. Too much drama there. I got once in a lifetime opportunity to become a technician for an official Ferrari dealership and I took it. Started there back in august of last year. I love almost every about this place. Everyone wants to be here, I don't have any waste of space salesman like at Benz, the other techs are chill, my bosses are great, I get to go to events for free, the cars are phenomenal, hell I got to drive chassis number 2 f50 a week ago, The only issue is pay. I make 40 an hour, but I'm lucky if I break 30 hours a week. It usually a little over 20. I hoped maybe as I got more familiar with the brand itd get better but it hasn't. Im barely (sometime not even) breaking even working here with bills. I love this place, I don't want to quit but flat rate is killing everything here. The other techs are in the same boat more or less. I don't know what to do. I pick up on things quick, I could most certainly make a living in other trades down here but I don't want to loose this opportunity I was given. I'm at a loss here
Edit:would like to add I'm only 24, I still have most of my life in front of me

I’m in the middle of buying a Forester and the salesman keeps saying it’s a “controversial” idea to switch out your CVT. I think possibly because the car is at 55k and I happened to ask if it had been done - maybe they’re thinking I’ll try to haggle on the price or ask them to throw it in? He kept saying how it was mostly unnecessary and could only cause problems to unseal the closed system.
Reddit and Subaru forums seem pretty much on the same page that this is a necessary form of maintenance.
Any studies, articles, etc. you can share? Personal experiences?

I’m in the middle of buying a Forester and the salesman keeps saying it’s a “controversial” idea to switch out your CVT. I think possibly because the car is at 55k and I happened to ask if it had been done - maybe they’re thinking I’ll try to haggle on the price or ask them to throw it in? He kept saying how it was mostly unnecessary and could only cause problems to unseal the closed system.
Reddit and Subaru forums seem pretty much on the same page that this is a necessary form of maintenance.
Any studies, articles, etc. you can share? Personal experiences?

It was a late night in the inn, and Roto gazed down at the old bandanna, running his free hand over the worn dragon head pattern with a nostalgic smile. Hearing a door creak open, he glanced up and smiled at Strix, stashing the bandana in his pack. "Hello, sunfly. Finished?"
The young tiefling gave a nod and cheeky salute as he walked forward. "Yep. All polished up like a richman's watch, papa. You don't need to check anything."
Roto raised a brow ridge at that last bit, and cocked his right ear suspiciously as he stood up. "Oh, is that so? Brushed your teeth, scrubbed behind your ears?"
Strix huffed and rolled his eyes before giving an exaggerated snarl to show off his freshly clean fangs. "Sheee?"
Roto huffed a laugh and walked forward to ruffle his boy's hair before drawing him into a one armed hug. "Only barely. I think you almost blinded me there, kiddo. Good job brushing."
His smile widened as he heard Strix give a soft, happy chirp at the compliment. It'd been a long, hard battle to make sure his son felt safe enough to give off instinctual noises like that, so it was always a relief to hear, especially since it was adorable.
Though, he wouldn't be pointing that out just yet. His sunfly was prideful, and insisted that he was a tough street kid that didn't need any pampering, or any sort of softness at all, never mind that he was alway eager to accept a hug.
So, instead, he let the noise lie and instead reached to give Strix another hair ruffle. Noticing something, he paused, then resumed the hair ruffle anyway as he casually asked, "How about your horns, kiddo? You got them polished, right?"
Strix stiffened, then gave an awkward grin. "Yeeeeeesss?"
Roto sighed in fond exasperation. "Strix..."
The boy huffed, though his tail gave a guilty lash. "It's not as if it's important, papa. My horns have always been just fine, and I didn't have any fancy soap or nothin'."
Roto sighed and guided the boy over to a stool. "Horn care is very important, sunfly, especially with ridged ones like yours. Letting stuff build up under those ridges can affect your health, and that's not something I'm willing to risk with you. Come on, hop up."
The boy grumbled but complied, clambering onto the seat with a pout. Resisting the urge to both coo and laugh, Roto snagged his tin of horn polish and got to work on Strix's horns, soon falling into a soft, nonsense song as he worked. Smiling gently as he noticed Strix relax and begin to hum along, Roto continued, finishing after some time. "And there we are. Not so bad, was it?"
Strix huffed and hopped down off of the stool. His tail flicked back and forth happily, but he gave an uncertain hum. "It...did feel nice...and my horns do feel a little better. Still kinda seems like a waste of shine to buy stuff specifically to take care of these things though."
Roto hugged the boy again. "It's never a waste, of 'shine', time, or anything else, to take care of you, kiddo, and don't you go thinking otherwise."
Strix gave another happy chirp. Flushing slightly, he hid his face in his dad's midsection, nodding. "If you say so, papa."
Roto chuckled and patted the boy's head. "I do say so, as a matter of fact."
Strix hummed, his tail flicking contently. A few seconds later it curled nervously. "Do...Would it be ok if you could help me with my horns more often, papa? It...It was nice."
Roto blinked, then gave a soft, fond smile as his hug tightened. "Of course, sweetheart. Every night, if that's what you'd like."
The young tiefling gave another happy chirp, his tail going back to the content flicking. "Thanks,papa."
Roto's smile widened, and he reached up a hand to ruffle the boy's hair. "Of course, sunfly."
His voice grew a teasing edge as he continued. "After all, I've gotta catch up to Jirvs. He's got all sorts of mischief he gets to do with you."
He continued dryly as he remembered calming down a angered melon salesman earlier that day. "And leaving me to clean up after the both of you, of course."
His own tail flicks happily as Strix giggles. "Poor papa."
Chuckling, Roto ruffled his son's hair just roughly enough to be a fond chide. "Yes, poor papa, you little menace."
He snorted as Strix grinned proudly up at him with no sense of shame whatsoever. Watching as the kid glanced over at the door with a worried frown, he hummed. "He'll be back soon, sunfly. You don't need to worry."
Strix blinked, flushed, then huffed, his cheeks puffed out in a pout. "I'm nat worried about 'em! Ol' Cyclops can take care of 'emself. He's...he's just late, is all."
Roto pulled back, torn between being aghast and breaking down into a giggle fit over his son's sheer audacity. "Strix! You...you can't just call your father that. I thought you were buddies."
Strix, distracted from his worries, blinked and tilted his head in confusion. "We are? That jest means I've gotta mess with him."
Roto's lips curled into a fond, amused grin despite his best attempt at a stern look. "Is that so?"
Strix nodded seriously. "Mhm!"
Roto sighed and pulled the boy back into a hug. "Menace. An absolute menace."
His grin widened as Strix giggled, then softened as the boy glanced towards the door again. "It's ok, sweetheart. Like you said, your father is tough. He's just getting a lay of the land, then he'll be back."
Strix grumbled, leaning against his dad. "I know. You oughta not be watching me, though. I'm not a baby, and you could be watching Pop's back. That's more important."
Roto's hug tightened at that. "Agree to disagree, sunfly. You're very, very important, to the both of us. He's happy that I'm here, watching over you."
Strix huffed at that, but gave a content chirp at the tightened hug despite himself. "I can take care of myself, even if we didn't have Swiftpaw to watch me back instead."
Roto hummed reassuringly. "That doesn't mean you should have to, sweetheart. We're supposed to protect you, and that's exactly what we're going to do, alright?"
Strix huffed, but nodded. "Ok, papa."
Roto relaxed in relief. He knew this particular war wasn't won just yet, but at least he won the battle. He hummed thoughtfully, getting an idea. "How about I tell you about when him and me first met? Sound fun?"
He grinned as Strix perked up, then tried to hide it with a disinterested shrug. "If you wanna."
Roto nodded and walked over to the bed, curling up on it and holding an arm up. "I do, as a matter of fact. C'mere, firefly."
He smiled as Strix accepted the invitation and curled up against him. Tugging the boy closer, he shared a fond, knowing nod with Swiftpaw as the Wyldhound curled around Strix's free side before starting his story. "Now, this was back during the war in my homeland, when I was living in the main Rebel Camp. I was just a little older than you, and like a certain little sunfly very sure I was old enough and big enough to be responsible for not just myself, but in helping the adults with every little scrap of skill I had."
He booped Strix's nose, grinning as the boy wrinkled it and shot him a pout. Chuckling, he continued, his voice growing fond as he remembered all the rebels that looked out for him. "Thankfully, the adults were less convinced, and had managed to get me into a habit of wandering around to do light work for my little workshop. Talking with various rebels to see if I was doing a good job, seeing what needed crafting, so on so forth. On one of these walkabout days I came across a brave young archer. Now, as we talked, I had a feeling we'd become good friends, but little did either of us know we'd become so much more...."
He continued the story and recounting how they met, then moved onto stories about the mischief both of the boys had gotten into. Eventually, he heard soft breathing, and looked down to see a now slumbering Strix. He gives a soft, so very fond smile, and leaned down to nuzzle the boy's head. His smile widened as the boy gave a content hum and curled deeper into his papa's side. "Heh. Good night, my little sunfly."

Wondering what my options are. Bought a CPO Hyundai Palisade out of Ohio and had it shipped to Washington. Have purchased this way in the past with no issues. We specifically asked if the car was a smokers car. Have in a text message no smell of smoke. When the car was delivered, first thing we notice when we open the doors is smell of smoke. Got a hold of the salesman and he told me he didn't smell smoke. (smells like an ash tray. You can literally smell it from 5 feet away with a window down. Talked to the sales manager and he told me that everyone has different sensitivity with smell and that their sales are as is. He did tell me he would talk to the ownership group about the situation in a meeting today and get back to me. From my conversation, not optimistic they will make this right. Wondering if I have any recourse. Thanks in advance.