I do not believe that this is all there is to life. If I did, I would demand a refund. I just got off the phone with a dude—or it could have been a girl. Hard to say. They want to stay at Burlington Place for 2,000 a month. Burlington Place does not have any apartments for under 6,000 a month. Would they consider another community more in line with their income? They would not. Could I bring the price down? They are bringing their own refrigerator after all.

No, I cannot bring the prices down. I am a sales agent on the phone in South Carolina. South Carolina?! Indeed. But Burlington Place is in Washington State. It is. And I am in South Carolina. Why? Because that is my job—vainly trying to sell overpriced apartment communities to people who can’t hold a steady job. I didn’t actually say that last part.

I still got an earful. But I am on break now, so I don’t care. 15 minutes of bliss. So I put my earbuds in, crank up my tunes and pretend with all my might that 15 minutes is an eternity. It’s not.

And I wonder: do dictators ever feel like this? I highly doubt it. That settles it then. I will become a dictator. But dictators are mean and take people’s stuff. Yes, but that’s not so bad…if you’re the dictator. The key is not to have a conscience. I could do that. My sister says I have already made progress in that direction. I haven’t cried since my bunny was stolen when I was twelve. Don’t judge. It was a cute bunny.

So if I am to do this…I must…turn my imperial march music back on. I can’t feel properly dictatorial without it. As I was saying, if I am to become a dictator I will need to harden my conscience. I will start with my gum. I will take this gum (like so) and insteadof putting it in the trash—as the sign says—I am going to stick it…oh the audacity of my scheme…I will stick it on the ashtray. Oh yes I did.

Bold? Perhaps. But here’s the catch you may not have considered: No one will know whether or not it’s mine! Now I just nonchalantly stroll away. But…but the gum is on the ashtray! That’s gross. NO! My iron determination controls my hand. I have done the deed, I will not undo it. That, is rule 1 of ruling the world.

What? Oh snickerdoodle. I appear to have been caught. Yes sir, I did put it in the ashtray. Oh, the sign says not to do that? Would you look at that? You’re right! I am so, so sorry. No sir, I won’t do it again. No sir, I’m sure I can’t imagine what it’s like to smoke a cigarette with sticky gum at the end of it (is that really how it works? And doesn’t that serve them right for smoking? I won’t ask). Why, yes my break is over! Time flies. Do you ever feel like life is unforgiving and you just want to be a dicta…okay, I’m going.

All in all my first effort at hardening my conscience was not swimmingly successful. But considering that I am now mimicking my superior in a low-voiced Donald Trump voice, I feel I am doing about the same thing. If I had cheeks as fat as that…chipmunk. Just sayin’. Mr. Big Dictator of the Ashtray. Mr. Trump, is that all your own hair? Oh wait, you don’t HAVE any. My bad. Do enjoy your cancer sticks, gum free! And how do YOU know I’m finished with my break? Creepy stalker freak.

What’s that? No ma’am. I am so sorry. Your apartment community does not have a giant ashtray. I must have misspoken. Yes, it would be nice to have a giant ashtray. I agree. (I don’t really. Should I say so? I don’t approve of smoking….) Why no, I’ve never tried Bruznevsky’s light unfiltered. The best? You don’t say. (Okay. Feel free to tell me a long story about your partying college years. I have all day. No, seriously. The longer you talk the less selling I have to do.)

What? You do? You want the apartment? Are you sure? I mean, based on what you said about your income, you’re gonna be in debt for….(What am I doing?) This apartment looks perfect for you! I’m so glad I could help. Um, okay? You want to talk to my manager? Heh heh. Okay…

He seems to be smiling. Wait, really? She gave me a commendation? On the phone? I don’t get those. And now my whole sales team is clapping. Come on now people it’s not that unbelievable that I’d close a deal. Yes, yes, I did quite well (I’m still going to squash you all when I become dictator). So, does this mean I get an extra break? Oh, I’m supposed to be doing this all the time? Right, heh, I knew that.

So it’s already working. I determine I will rule the world, and I get a commendation for selling an apartment. This is an omen (I don’t believe in those). I even think it’s a good omen (Is omen even the word?) Siri, google ‘omen’. So till next time,

this is the Future Dictator of all Things, signing off.