This month marks the 7th anniversary of Straight Up wth a Twist. In May of 1998, a 29-year-old freelance writer from Mesa walked into the office of Arcadia News (back when they were on 48th Street) and asked the editor of this neighborhood newspaper if they would be interested in a humor column. I submitted some samples for review, and was offered a position as their newest humor writer. I was absolutely astounded – and grateful for the $50 per column that they offered.

Since then, I haven’t missed an issue. There was one column that they decided not to print. It was a stab at star athletes and the trouble they find themselves in – and considering the area this paper reaches, it was a wise idea to pull the column.

Here we are, 84 columns later and – wow – how things have changed at the Arcadia News. Our monthly circulation is now 20,000, compared to the 12,500 we were at when my first column appeared. The paper is now 68 pages, compared to 56, and I think we’re better than ever, yet always trying to improve.

So, I’m going to take a few months off from this column, and re-print some of those babies from my first year. This one below was titled “Instant Gratification” and first appeard in the July, 1998 edition of the Arcadia News.

My life has changed immensly as well. When I wrote my first column I hadn’t yet hit 30; I was single and living the ultimate bachelor life in an apartment in Mesa. I worked in a bookstore and, as you will read, had very little to my name. I am now the publisher of this great paper, I live in Arcadia, and my wife of two years is expecting our first child (a boy) in August. I actually have a retirement plan (thanks to Robin Shaw), and while I’m busier than I’ve ever been, I still find time to drop the social security director a letter now and then.

INSTANT GRATIFICATION

My whole life has been spent in the pursuit of instant gratification. It must be some 90’s thing, or it might have something to do with my genetic makeup, I’m not sure. All I know is I don’t have any interest in anything on this planet that cannot, or will not, satisfy my immediate desires.

I am unable to eat a portion of a pint of ice cream. It tastes so unbelievably creamy and delicious right now, so why not eat the whole thing? If I want some at another time, I’ll go buy more. Ditto a six pack of beer.

I am unable to save money. I haven’t had a savings account since I was thirteen. I had a paper route then, and it only seemed proper to stuff the money into the bank. The problem with that was, I never saw the whole pile of money that I had accrued. All I ever saw was some penciled-in entry in my passbook. That seemed a bit arbitrary to me. I mean, I could put in a fourteen-digit figure in that littwle blue book if I wanted, it didn’t really mean that I had that money, right?

So I withdrew all of that money and blew it all on a "boom-box" and approximately ten pounds of candy. Tracing back to that moment, I realize that was when I started living paycheck to paycheck.

Once a normal person gets a couple thousand dollars ahead of the game, they start thinking about investments, houses, stocks, vacations, retirement, whatever. I get a couple grand ahead and I quit my job, toss all of my belongings in my car and take off for three months.

"So long suckers!" I yell on my way out of town.

Three months later I’m standing on my parents’ porch with a long, sad face and a look of "I think I learned something this time" in my eyes.

Instant gratification is very important, though. With all of the movies about the world coming to an end and with the impending "Millennium Brings Armageddon from Jesus Christ", not to mention the escalation of weird, daily deaths ("Man Dies While Sipping Beer Friday After Work") in my age group, the future seems so bleak.

This is why I contacted the Social Security Office in Washington, D.C. and requested to have my name and number removed from the ledger.

"I want to cash out right now," I said, "I’m not going to be around for retirement anyway, so what’s the point?"

"Social security doesn’t work like that, sir," the cyber/human monotone voice informed me. I’m guessing they’ve heard this request once or twice before.

I didn’t really accept their answer, though. I mean, I’ve got over $20,000 to my name, according to the government. It’s my money - I am number 52791XXXX, so why can’t I have it? I wrote letters to them once a month. In these letters I mentioned the importance of attending to my immediate needs, rather than the unlikely ones in the future.

After I hadn’t heard from them in two months, I bumped my letter writing up to once a week. I was firing off a letter every single day at one point in time, until my quiet, hazy morning was shattered by a ringing phone.

I was informed by the Director of Social Security that it would no longer be necessary to mail my inquiries.

I sighed. You’re sending me my money, finally.

"No sir. Social security doesn’t work like that. Please stop wasting your money on stamps. Your letters are now being immediately discarded upon receipt."

I hung up the phone, a bit disenchanted. I find that I’m a bit like a cat when it comes to getting instant gratification: I can lose interest in something lickety-split and venture on, completely aloof and without guilt.

Now I’m writing the State Lottery Department. I’m explaining that although I don’t physically own the winning tickets to all of the unclaimed cash that they’ve accrued over the years, I think some of it belongs to me. I haven't heard anything yet. It might be time to up the letter count.