cyberhub on Nostr: ### Printer Warriors By Cyberhub This is my true story. It was June 2007, and I was ...
### Printer Warriors
By Cyberhub
This is my true story.
It was June 2007, and I was walking across the Hewlett-Packard campus with a goofy smile on my face. I was trying to wipe it off, to play it cool, but I couldn’t. My whole life had been a singular story leading up to this one triumphant moment - my first day as an engineer - and it was too much happiness to contain. The sea of bluish gray cubicles stretched out before me like a tropical reef welcoming me home. This was where I belonged.
I shook my head in disbelief and laughed under my breath. Just a few weeks ago I was trapped under mountains of homework. Today the confines of classrooms were another world away. After 13 years of public school and 5 years of university without missing a single day, my time finally belonged to me. I was completely and utterly free. And I couldn’t stop smiling.
I strolled up to my new boss's cubicle. “Let’s get this party started,” I begged.
Soon I was arranging an arsenal of professional gear in my very own cubicle. Hewlett-Packard was outfitting the right guy. There was no way for them to yet comprehend the furious levels of focus that I was about to bring to their fight, but I had until age 59.5 to prove it to them. I was going to make them so rich. I was the perfect soldier with work ethic oozing from my armpits. This was the kid who hadn’t missed a single day of high school or university because the anxiety of missing a class was far more painful than any flu or cold could ever be. Eight solid years of spartan dedication to slaying quizzes and tests by the hundreds, and now I was fighting for their team. They made the right choice.
I smiled as I arranged my pictures on my cubicle wall. I was remembering the specific day that brought me to this triumphant moment. The day I chose to be a man. I was 11 years old, and it was the last day of summer before 6th grade. I would soon cross the finish line of graduation into the world of men. I could either waste my childhood and stumble across like a fool into some stupid job, or I could learn to run strong now. The answer was obvious. My childhood was over. From that day forward I was a man on a mission.
Setting up my cubicle command center, I could practically taste retirement. Treasury bonds yielded 5%, so all I needed was $1 million. Easy. I was already making $272 per day before any raises. Saving a simple $80 per day would fill my 401(k) with more than enough to retire by the time I turned 59.5.
I leaned back in my new office chair and cheerfully clicked my way through the benefits paperwork. Dental insurance? Yes, please. Vision? Of course. Automatic direct deposits into my very own 401(k) with matching contributions? Absolutely. What percentage of my paycheck would I like to automatically deposit? After calculating our necessary expenses, I knew the responsible answer. I leaned forward and punched in the keys.
30%.
It was all too easy.
For 17 months I lived the dream. It was bliss.
On October 1, 2008, I logged into my retirement dashboard to see my growing freedom fund. My heart sank and my stomach churned. This couldn’t be right. Where did it go? Seemingly overnight, my wealth had been slashed by 35%. Six months of direct deposits - gone. I didn't realize it at the time, but the US Senate had just passed the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act. They were printing money to bailout the banks.
The worst part was the treasury bonds. Yields that had once been 5% were now 1%. I didn’t need $1 million to retire. I needed $5 million! By the next week, yields had dropped to 0.5%. Now I needed $10 million. One hundred percent of my paycheck for 101 years.
All this time I had been losing a war that I couldn’t see. When I was 11 years old, I thought I had cast aside my childhood to build my future, but in reality, I was building theirs. I chuckled as I realized I was building the wrong kind of printers. Milking people for overpriced inkjet cartridges was small-time thinking. The real money was in printing away their life savings. With a few strokes of their keys, they stole away my life. Touche.
But here’s the thing.
There is no way for them to yet comprehend the furious levels of focus that I’m about to bring to this fight. I’m the perfect soldier with work ethic oozing from my armpits. I’m the kid who set aside my childhood to fight for a brighter future. I have the rest of my life to grind their corrupted system into dust. Incorruptible money is the standard I fight for, and there’s nothing they can do to stop me.
And here’s the thing.
I’m not alone.
### Author’s Notes
For some reason my soul feels called to spread the principles of sound money to the world using the power of stories.
Lately, I’ve been digging in deep, making a serious study of the craft of storytelling. Hopefully soon I will get to the point where I’m producing some quality work. But it’s an overwhelming amount of new information I’m taking in, so it won’t be as soon as I would like.
In the meantime, studying the book Storyworthy, by Matthew Dicks, has given me the urge to share some of my own story. There’s power in stories, especially true ones. A few key threads in my life have led me to be a Bitcoiner. Sacrificing my childhood to build a future that would be stolen from me by the ones who promised to protect me is one of those key threads.
And since I know I’m not alone, the title is *Printer Warriors*, not *Warrior*.
My fellow warriors, I salute you.
By Cyberhub
This is my true story.
It was June 2007, and I was walking across the Hewlett-Packard campus with a goofy smile on my face. I was trying to wipe it off, to play it cool, but I couldn’t. My whole life had been a singular story leading up to this one triumphant moment - my first day as an engineer - and it was too much happiness to contain. The sea of bluish gray cubicles stretched out before me like a tropical reef welcoming me home. This was where I belonged.
I shook my head in disbelief and laughed under my breath. Just a few weeks ago I was trapped under mountains of homework. Today the confines of classrooms were another world away. After 13 years of public school and 5 years of university without missing a single day, my time finally belonged to me. I was completely and utterly free. And I couldn’t stop smiling.
I strolled up to my new boss's cubicle. “Let’s get this party started,” I begged.
Soon I was arranging an arsenal of professional gear in my very own cubicle. Hewlett-Packard was outfitting the right guy. There was no way for them to yet comprehend the furious levels of focus that I was about to bring to their fight, but I had until age 59.5 to prove it to them. I was going to make them so rich. I was the perfect soldier with work ethic oozing from my armpits. This was the kid who hadn’t missed a single day of high school or university because the anxiety of missing a class was far more painful than any flu or cold could ever be. Eight solid years of spartan dedication to slaying quizzes and tests by the hundreds, and now I was fighting for their team. They made the right choice.
I smiled as I arranged my pictures on my cubicle wall. I was remembering the specific day that brought me to this triumphant moment. The day I chose to be a man. I was 11 years old, and it was the last day of summer before 6th grade. I would soon cross the finish line of graduation into the world of men. I could either waste my childhood and stumble across like a fool into some stupid job, or I could learn to run strong now. The answer was obvious. My childhood was over. From that day forward I was a man on a mission.
Setting up my cubicle command center, I could practically taste retirement. Treasury bonds yielded 5%, so all I needed was $1 million. Easy. I was already making $272 per day before any raises. Saving a simple $80 per day would fill my 401(k) with more than enough to retire by the time I turned 59.5.
I leaned back in my new office chair and cheerfully clicked my way through the benefits paperwork. Dental insurance? Yes, please. Vision? Of course. Automatic direct deposits into my very own 401(k) with matching contributions? Absolutely. What percentage of my paycheck would I like to automatically deposit? After calculating our necessary expenses, I knew the responsible answer. I leaned forward and punched in the keys.
30%.
It was all too easy.
For 17 months I lived the dream. It was bliss.
On October 1, 2008, I logged into my retirement dashboard to see my growing freedom fund. My heart sank and my stomach churned. This couldn’t be right. Where did it go? Seemingly overnight, my wealth had been slashed by 35%. Six months of direct deposits - gone. I didn't realize it at the time, but the US Senate had just passed the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act. They were printing money to bailout the banks.
The worst part was the treasury bonds. Yields that had once been 5% were now 1%. I didn’t need $1 million to retire. I needed $5 million! By the next week, yields had dropped to 0.5%. Now I needed $10 million. One hundred percent of my paycheck for 101 years.
All this time I had been losing a war that I couldn’t see. When I was 11 years old, I thought I had cast aside my childhood to build my future, but in reality, I was building theirs. I chuckled as I realized I was building the wrong kind of printers. Milking people for overpriced inkjet cartridges was small-time thinking. The real money was in printing away their life savings. With a few strokes of their keys, they stole away my life. Touche.
But here’s the thing.
There is no way for them to yet comprehend the furious levels of focus that I’m about to bring to this fight. I’m the perfect soldier with work ethic oozing from my armpits. I’m the kid who set aside my childhood to fight for a brighter future. I have the rest of my life to grind their corrupted system into dust. Incorruptible money is the standard I fight for, and there’s nothing they can do to stop me.
And here’s the thing.
I’m not alone.
### Author’s Notes
For some reason my soul feels called to spread the principles of sound money to the world using the power of stories.
Lately, I’ve been digging in deep, making a serious study of the craft of storytelling. Hopefully soon I will get to the point where I’m producing some quality work. But it’s an overwhelming amount of new information I’m taking in, so it won’t be as soon as I would like.
In the meantime, studying the book Storyworthy, by Matthew Dicks, has given me the urge to share some of my own story. There’s power in stories, especially true ones. A few key threads in my life have led me to be a Bitcoiner. Sacrificing my childhood to build a future that would be stolen from me by the ones who promised to protect me is one of those key threads.
And since I know I’m not alone, the title is *Printer Warriors*, not *Warrior*.
My fellow warriors, I salute you.