Elevens

Dear World,

On the eve of bankruptcy and upon sincere reflection as I exit the wallet business, I can’t help but be filled with mixed thoughts of joy, angst, humility, enlightenment, cynicism and a wide variety of auxiliary stark emotions that all have been brewing in me for quite some time. I’ve had a lot weighing on my brain. Now that said, today I’d like to write about my emotion of sadness (but tomorrow I will no longer discuss it as it is time to now move forward). You see, db clay taught me about a lot more than just wallets. db clay also taught me about people and their inherent nature - their bright side and their dark side and the latter stirs an odd sadness in me that to this day I’m still struggling to accept. I had always hoped for better out of people! I am not sad that db clay is gone; I am sad that people around me have gone dark and that the world truly does revolve around the currency my wallets were designed to hold. It, money that is, truly rules all and that to me, is sad.

To paint it personally, the sad and ironic realization I’ve come to is that the majority of people only want you around when you are on the up and up… when you pose potential benefit to them. But when you’re on the way down, you are toxic and no one wants be near you. No one cares to take interest because you know longer represent success for them. Everyone’s worth is sadly measured in dollars and cents. To site a specific example: I use to get friendly calls all the time but when db clay was shutting down, the only people (save a few) that called me for months and months and months were creditors. Very few friendly calls came in.

When I started db clay I was just a kid and I didn’t know any better. Initially it wasn’t about duct tape or business and it certainly wasn’t about money. Now all of this pitiful self ranting aside, I would like to admit that for me, it did become about money and perhaps I am guilty too. I wanted db clay to be huge! And when it was taken from me I was mortified. I was broken. Yes, the money part of it mattered, but all I wanted, more than anything, was for someone to call me and offer a helping hand. Very few did and I’d like to call those people in particular, elevens. People who called me with genuine intentions. People that didn’t care that I was broke. People that offered to give rather than to take. True friends.

I have a lot of people in my life who are ten out of ten. But I can count on one hand those that are eleven out of ten and to them I say, thank you for caring about me and not just about how full my wallet is/was. You are true friends and to those of you who fall in this elite class, again, thank you for supporting me even when it meant being around someone whose ship was sinking.

Ok, time to move on.
Garett