Englsih Essay #1

The essay bellow was written a few years back when I took the class in college entitled, "Critical Thinking."

The Young Man Who Was Once Timid In The Past Is Of Boldness in the Present

An Autobiographical Work By Justin Rocque, PI

It all started when I was a young lad, in Queens New York, at the age of around 6 in Preschool. I was just this little shy kid who never talked much to others and stiffened when spoken to by someone I did not know. This might be why I was put into this "special ed-type" Preschool, that and possibly that bad-ass temper of mine.

When I entered the 1st Grade, also a "special ed-type school," I didn't change that much but started to socialize a bit and made a few friends with boys my age whom talked to me. I wasn't as withdrawing as I used to be but I still had quite a bit of that shyness in myself. Next came the 2nd Grade. This was still a bit like the above grades I was in but I made a few friends this time and socialized with them and the teachers too. I had a best friend in that grade. Also, when I was in this grade, and I believe, the first one also, I had a guidance counselor. This, I think, was because my parents got a divorce, so they say. During that time when I was with the counselor, she asked me the most important question, which would and did impact the rest of my life, as you will see later on. The question was "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I said, "I want to be a police officer."

Now comes the 3rd Grade, which was when I switched schools. I went from some "special ed-type" school from a bus ride away from my house to a school right across the street! That was, to me, quite a nice change. It was this grade where some interesting stuff began. As I entered that school, I was scared, as we all are when we enter a new school or class. I had no friends, did not know anyone, and the school was more crowded, I thought, than the other. But as I progressed in the class and learned what the class and people in the class were like, I started to feel at ease. I also started to socialize a bit with others. To me, this wasn't such a bad class after all, although there was a few "bullies" who decided to start "picking" on me because I was that quiet, skinny dude who spoke all but a few words. It wasn't serious but I told my mother about it, or she saw what was going on from out the window, and she spoke with the teacher and the teacher made those kids quit the shit, so to speak. It was just one of those after school kind of things. It wasn't a bad class. It was almost the end of the year when I got the Chicken Pox. I missed the last few days because of this, if I recall correctly. I remember this because I missed the last day party the class had and I remember my mother calling the teacher and asked if it would be ok if I came in for the party; the answer, of course, was no. This was also the class where I cried for the first time when the teacher yelled at me. All I did was throw a crayon across the room, not at a person but to him. Ah well, I guess I deserved it. After 3rd Grade was over, I still greeted the teacher when I saw her at school or down the street where my mother and I used to go shopping.

Here comes 4th Grade. This grade was sort of like the previous because I knew a few people from the 3rd. I also socialized a bit with people in this class. This was a fun class. I did a play in this class also. It was a "Charlie Brown Christmas" play. I was that guy, Pigpen. I will never forget my short line, "I love to make snowmen!" and that young little kid in the front row of the audience who told me to say it louder during the second time we presented the play. Ah, it was fun. Nothing much special happened in this grade, which is worth noting. Now comes the 5th and 6th grade. The 5th grade was more exciting than the other ones. The work in the class was a little more difficult, though. I had a very strict woman teacher in the class, one who didn't take crap from anyone. There was one funny but embarrassing thing, which happened in the class. We were having this discussion on stealing and how it was wrong. The teacher asked a little group, me included, in front of her desk a question, "Would you steal?" Whatever the answer was, we had to give a reason of why we would or would not. Of course every one I remember said no and the reason being because it was not right or something like that. When it was my turn I said no also but couldn't think of a reason of why not. I didn't want to use the same answer one of the other kids said so I kind of didn't know what to say. So, I changed my answer to "yes". Big mistake! She then wanted a reason as to why I would steal. Everyone started to giggle a bit at this point, but not to the point where it was loud, for the teacher would have gotten pissed. So, I froze again, thinking of the answer. I then changed it again to "no". Then we were just standing there, at the desk, waiting for my reason as to why I would not steal, like she was a lawyer and I was the one in the confession seat. I then just stood there, puzzled and a bit scared because I knew the teacher would start to lose her cool, so to speak. She then, I think, gave me an answer, I think, and said it aloud so the whole class could hear it. The answer was just "Because it is wrong!" I was just like "Damn, I knew that!" to myself. Boy, what a day that was. Other than that, all was pretty good in the fifth grade.

The 6th grade also had a few exciting moments also. There was one time when we all were in the auditorium and this wise guy, a year older than all of us because he got left back a grade, whom pushed some guy I knew and was sort of friends with, on me while I was sitting down. Then I, for some reason, got pissed at the guy for fumbling on me so I pushed him out to the middle isle and started giving him a smack down. We then got caught by one of those stupid aid people and were sent to the principal's office. I was never sent to this place before. It seemed like a mysterious place to me, where all those bad guys go. I was a bit scared at this point, while waiting in the school's main office, until it was time the both of us entered that mysterious place, the principal's office. During this time the kid and I were just talking about what we did and how he ended up on me. I apologized to him about giving him a "smack down" and we were having a discussion as to what to say when we enter the office. The kid had tears in his eyes and was all upset about being in the office. I, on the other hand, was cool, calm, and collective, even though it was my first time there. All was good with the two of us during this time. When the principal came out her office, it was time to enter that place. We went in, sat down, and just talked to her about what happened. We just gave her the story we thought up, which was just the truth anyways, and all was good. We went back to the auditorium and that was it. We also had a play in the sixth grade. It was "Oliver Twist." It was one of those singing type of plays. When we were rehearsing, I was in it, singing along and stuff. There was also a part where we all walked off the stage and in the two center isles and sang. I did that too. But as we were rehearsing some more, during the few days, I was like, "I don't want to sing. I can't in front of all the people who will be in the audience." So, I asked the teacher if I could help the guy in the back of the stage with the lights and all. She said yes. So, when it was time for the play, I sang once, on stage, with a group, but after that went to the back and stayed there. However, since this is the grade we all graduate from, we had to do a graduation ceremony. It involved getting called up to the stage, receiving our diplomas, and after that, singing some kind of farewell song. I did all of this but, of course, didn't like any of it. I was not as nervous when we all had to sing because we were all sitting down and there were all people around me. Also during the time I was in this school, I don't remember what grade I was in at the time, but I spoke with that SAME guidance counselor again, the same one from 2nd grade. As soon as I went to the room, I knew she looked familiar. When she introduced herself, I knew it was she. She also remembered me. Then she asked me that same question, "What would you like to be when you grow up?" Again I said, "I want to be a police officer." She then said, "That was the same thing you said to me back then." I thought that was pretty ironic, having the same guidance counselor again. That was the exciting time of my primary school years. It was fun, exciting, and I made new friends. I also had a best friend during the 5th and 6th grade also, who hung out after school with me. This was the time when I had an interest in computers because I used to play with one over this friend's house. But, of course, even though it wasn't as bad, that decease was still in there, eating me inside, even though a hint of it, it was still there, not wanting to go away. I really enjoyed those years of my life, most of it, but after that, it's all up hill from here, as you will now see below.

When I graduated the 6th grade, I moved on into another school, Junior High, and in the 7th grade. At first, like the other grades I was in, I was nervous, and a little afraid because it was a pretty big school, bigger than I was used to before. As the 7th grade started out, it wasn't that bad at first. What I had to get used to was the moving to different classes part of it, which wasn't so bad because there was not just one teacher where I would get tired of seeing everyday. As I got to know a few kids and as they got to know me, I realized some were pretty cool dudes, but the others were those "bully type" kids. Of course, since I was this tall, puny, and quite guy, I got picked on again. During this time of year, I realized what I was learning was just crap, crap I didn't want to learn and care about. I also realized, almost everyday the kids in the class just picked on me some more and made fun of me some more, again and again and again. So, I said to myself "F&*% this!! I'm not going to put up with this crap anymore!" So, as days passed by, I started to go to school less and less, up to where I was missing 2, sometimes three days a week. My mother tried to make me go but couldn't really force me out the bed and off to school. But she did yell but that didn't work either. I managed to pass all my classes anyways, barely. When the 8th grade came it was kind of the same. I started out going to school normally but then drifted on again to missing two, sometimes three days a week. I just got tired of the nonsense I had to put up with. I managed to pass again, barely. Come the 9th grade, it was worse. I started missing an excess of up to three days a week sometimes. This time I was called into the principal's office. She was just saying stuff like "I know you have been missing quite a bit of school lately. I also know there is no reason for you too. If you keep this up, your mother will go to jail for you not being in school. Also, there will be a school security person who will pick you up at your house and make sure you go to school. Do you want that to happen? Do you also want to get held back a year?" I was just like "Uh, no." That was the end of that conversation. From then on I started going every day for like two weeks straight. The principal said she was proud of me at the lunchroom. After that I started to miss a few days again, but not as much, probably only one day a week. I managed to pass again, barely. It came time to graduate. When I went up to get my diploma and shook the principals hand, she gave me a hug. I felt kind of nice after that. I was glad it was all over, though. I was glad I didn't have to put up with anyone's crap anymore and with the useless stuff I had to learn.

Even though I didn't enjoy these years, there were some good things, which happened during that time. There was this beautiful girl who liked me, who really liked me. She even said so herself. I was like "Why would a beautiful girl like a puny bastard like myself?" to myself. One day when I was in class sitting next to her, not by choice but because our seats were assigned, she popped the most surprising question to me. But before she did, she was asking me if I liked this other nice looking girl in the class better than her. I said "no," of course. Then she popped that question to me, "Will you have…. (Well, you know!) with me?" I was like "WOW!" to myself, but I just sat there and shrugged my shoulders at her. Of course I wanted to say "yes," but I just didn't have the damn guts to say it. If I did, I knew I could have been a man at the age of 13, or 14, whichever age I was back then! That proved to me once again that the decease is still with me. I did talk to the girl though, but it was because she sort of made me to. If I didn't she would cop an attitude with me. To this day I still think about that question and if I had answered, "yes" during that time. That is one of the things I think about where if I were to reverse time and change something, even though I know I can't anyways because if I do reverse time, the same exact thing will happen again because I will not know the place I am at now (which is really then) would be the past and the place I was from (which is now, before I went back in time) was the future where I had a chance to evaluate my time in the past (got that?). What really pisses me off is, if I didn't have that decease of mine, I could have started a good relationship with that girl, or any other girl for that matter, instead of being a lonely bastard. I guess it all boils down to that "Had things been different" fallacy (That book came in handy!). That is one of the things in my life I will always regret. I'm pretty sure we all have these kinds of regrets and use that fallacy quite a bit throughout our lives, probably everyday.

It is now time to take a trip back a few years of my life, back to High School. These are the worst years. As soon as I entered the school I was like, "Damn, this is a pretty big place!" Like Junior High, I started out nervous and stuff because I knew nobody there. As I started out, it wasn't as bad as the previous school. There were different people in each class I went to. I thought this was pretty good because it will take a while for people to know me, which was good because they won't start anything. I started to talk with a few people who sat next to me but that were it. I started to like going to school because there were no people who picked on me and made fun of me like the previous school. I did pretty well in 10th grade during the first semester. Come the second, it started to get tough. I was at that phase again where I just didn't give a crap, especially with English and History class. I liked and did pretty well in math and science, getting around 90's on my tests in math and around 80's in science. But I just didn't like history. I couldn't focus on that kind of thing. English was also another one. The vocabulary tests I didn't mind but in the 11th grade we all had to do these class presentations. That, my friend, was something I didn't want to do, as you already know. It just pissed me off. Everyone in the class did well with theirs but I fumbled, and stuttered along. Boy that last one I did was just wonderful! We had to pick a topic where we had to talk about something and demonstrate it. I did a nice little piece on how to change the battery from a watch. Boy, did that go well! I wanted to do one on computers but I didn't really have the equipment, like a projector, to do it with. We also had to read these boring-ass novels, like "To Kill A Mocking Bird", which I had no interest in. But the one we read in 11th grade was pretty good, about this baseball player named Roy Hobbs (That was that book where I got that phrase at the end of the story). So, I started again, skipping school. I managed to pass all my classes except for English and History this time. I had to take 10th grade (2nd semester) English and History again. This time my English teacher was the same strict one as last time. I did not want her again! The teacher was also like "I failed you last time (and I will fail you again! If only I could prove her wrong the second time!), you should get another teacher." I did. I was able to take that English class again, but this time with the nice 10th (1st semester) grade teacher I had, even though I failed her class because it was in the morning, which was too early for me. Even though we had to do a couple presentations, it wasn't as bad as the other one. I managed to pass that class with a 70. When it was my 2nd year in high school, I went down that path again. This time it was worse than the previous years; I was lucky if I went in at least three days a week. The only classes I passed this time were English and Math.

To sum up the first few years of high school, it was all up hill. This was my time of depression where I just stayed up late at night until around 4:00AM and woke up at 8:00AM to head to school, but missed gym because I didn't like it and because it was too early in the morning for me to exercise and do all that physical activity, especially with only 4 hours of sleep and an empty stomach. When I went home from school, I just went to my room, ate a bag of Doritos®, around 10 beef sticks, drank a 32oz bottle of Gatorade® and went back to bed. I woke up at around 6 PM and ate dinner, then watched TV until around 11 PM. During this time I started to work on my homework, all except for history. When I was at home, I was just to the point where I didn't even care about my life. I had no friends during these years. The friend I used to have back in JHS was also in my HS but didn't want to hang with me all because of the stupidest reason…. my computer was an outdated piece of crap and I had nothing to do at my house. What a friend that was! I had no place to go after school, no place to hang out. This was the suicidal time of my life, the time where I just wanted to end it all. The time where I just stayed up late and read Hacking and Anarchy (not the Anti-Government type but the bomb making and destruction type!) text files on my ol' 16mhz computer, with a 13" monitor, about 9" viewable, great for the eyes! This was back when PC's were already up to around 300mhz, I was still chugging along, 'Netless. During this time was also when I had a huge interest in computers, my computer. I just loved it because it didn't make fun of me, tell me what to do, and it was ready when I was ready. I loved it because I can tell it what to do, not have it tell me what to do. I also had access to all this information at one place. Even though it was aging, I would not want to live without it, for it was my only true friend. I believed in (and still do) "The Mentor's" words, which was entitled "The Hacker's Manifesto." These suicidal thoughts of mine went on for about two years, which was a pretty damn long time for a teenager.

This went on until I met a new friend in English class during the second to last year of school. The guy was sitting next to me during class and we just started talking about what a dumb ass the teacher was and how crappily she taught. During the couple days we were chatting, I showed him a computer magazine I had in my book bag. He was looking at it. While he was looking at it, I started asking him question about computers. He said he also had one, but an old, outdated one (a 66mhz). I told him about mine too. I also said I had this hard drive problem with it. He said he could try to fix it for me. We both settled on a date and a place to meet for when we can hang after school and agreed on it. When the day came, I waited for him after school, for like 15 minutes, but saw no sign of him. When I saw him the next day, I was like "Where were you? I waited for you but you didn't show up!" He said he was waiting for me also but didn't see me. We waited for each other again after school and again didn't see each other. The same thing happened in school the next day in school. After school, we didn't see each other again! I was then getting a little pissed, so instead of going home, I looked at his "Highlander" magazine he let me borrow and noticed his address on it. I said to myself "I will just go to his house." Being the easy to get lost person I was back then (and still am now, but worse because of this unorganized town in Florida!), I saw the school security guard and asked him where this place was. He said it was all the way down this street. I started on my journey, down this long street, well on the sidewalks. I was looking at the street signs and finding my way. Then I, my typical self, got lost. This time I started to panic. I was at an area I was never at before. I never even walked this far alone; it was always with my mother. I kept on, though, until I saw a school. I walked towards that school and noticed a crossing guard. I approached the guard (because crossing guards are young kids friends!) and she gave me some more directions. I followed them. Finally, I made it to his house (at close to 4pm, when it usually takes until 3:00p, since we get out of school at 2:35p). I knocked on the door and there he was. I was like, again, "Where were you again?" After that short conversation, we realized we were both waiting for each other at different exits! It was an adventure for me that day and I will never forget it. It was the day I met another best friend, but this time it was a true best friend. A friend who didn't judge me by what "toy's" I had, an outdated computer I had, and what a skinny shy bastard I was, for he was the same kind of guy also. He was a friend, like my PC, although human. It was a few weeks after that we became best of friends; we still are, even though he is still up in New York and I am down here.

During the 3rd year of high school, even though I still didn't care about it, I started to keep a good attendance. As I was going everyday, my grades also plummeted, except for history and gym though. That was still a good improvement. A strange thing also happened to me during that year. I started to like "going" to school. Not for the classes, of course, well, except for two of them (math because I became a math wiz again and the teacher was proud; I was the BEST kid in the class! The other one was English because I thought it was kind of fun this time.), for the other people in the school. I just started to like going because of the company I had around me. Even though I didn't really talk to anyone, I just liked being around everyone, especially all those damn good-looking girls, girls with those tight, well, I won't get off subject (Although I will NEVER forget that perfect looking girl whom I knew since 4th grade, whom was just standing outside the door of my Psychology class, the door I was out of and across in back of that girl getting a perfect view, all until the bell rang and the teacher made me come inside. I will also never forget the time when the girl was about to walk away, backwards, and tripped over me, and was just like "Uh, I'm sorry" and touched me! I thought that was great! What pisses me off about her though, was the fact that she didn't really remember me as soon as we got into Junior High. I don't know why though, probably because I was that shy bastard no one paid attention too. What also pisses me off was that she was only two blocks away from my house and I never started a relationship with her!). I started to like my life again, not all of it, but most of it. The going to bed late didn't change though. I didn't want it to anyways. I started to like the nighttime.

As the year was about to end, I was headed for the worst change in my life. It was time for my family and I to move on out, not just out the house, but also out to a different state, all the way down Florida. I was like "What the heck is going to happen with my life now?" My life was going so good now; I met a new friend, started to do better in school, and this is the place I have grown to love, got used to, and know my way around. As the day's passed by and got closer and closer, my friend and I got sadder and sadder.

June finally hit… and the countdown started, for I was to be off in a plane and down to Florida on the 1st of July, the year 1999, changing my whole life, after I started to like the way it was already. As it got closer and closer, I start to get worried and worried about how this will impact my life so greatly and how I will leave the only friend I had behind.

A few days before we had to leave, we started to pack up. My uncle came up with a moving truck and we started packing stuff away. My friend spent the night with me at my house and helped us. That was the first time we ever had a so-called sleepover, mainly because we were too old for that kind of stuff and thought it was unmanly. It was now Wednesday in the morning and time to start packing our load. It took us a few hours. After that, my friend and I went over to his house and hung out for one last time, having our own famous "Jalapeño Chips on a half loaf of Italian bread" sandwich, which I created myself back at home as a dinner sandwich of mine. I will never forget that sandwich of mine; it was big and oh so crunchy, with the poignant odor and taste of Jalapeño's, washed down with a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew®, Coke®, Dr. Pepper®, Surge®, or, of course, a 32oz bottle of Gatorade®! As soon as we meet again, we will have that delicacy again. After we finished the "Famous J's Jalapeño 'wich", we decided to go to the movies down the street and see "South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut." We walked half way and took the bus the other half way. When we got there, we got the tickets, ordered some popcorn, a drink, and were on our happy way. When we got up to that ticket stub guy, we showed him our tickets and then he asked us the stupidest question, "Can I see your ID?" Although I usually have no problem with this, I left my wallet at home. My friend didn't even have an ID. So, we got pissed. This was our last day to see each other and we don't even get to see the movie we wanted. I went back outside and told the ticket guy what happened and he was like "What a dumb ass that guy is!" He tried talking to someone to try to let us get in but to no avail. I then exchanged the tickets for that stupid movie with that nerdy guy who says words like "Shagadelic" or something like that. So we saw that movie and did not enjoy one bit of it. While everyone else was laughing we just sat there, pissed off at that dumb ass outside. After the movie we went back to his house and hung out some more until it was getting late and he asked his mother if she can give me a ride home and so I can give my friend my 'ol PC. We went back to my house and packed up my PC in his mother's car, hugged, and said, "Well, I guess this is it! This is finally it." Then they drove off and I went back to my house and started to get more upset, with warm tears dripping down my face. As I stood there, I thought this was just it, my life, as I knew it would totally suck, so I thought.

The day came, the day to say goodbye to fast-action New York and hello to slow, laid back Florida. My cousin drove us, my mother, sister (although my sister already moved to Florida a year ago, she came down to help out and say goodbye one last time), and I to the airport. We all sat there, waiting to get on the plane. It was now time, time to go on the plane and change my whole life around. I said goodbye to my cousin, trying to holdback those tears, although I could only speak in a squeaky tone, for my throat was sore with sadness. In a way, I was a little happy moving because most of my family is in Florida.

As I went to sleep in my bed that night, I realized this was no vacation, where I would leave and go back home to New York as soon as it was over. I couldn't believe it, though, me, a city-street kid in a dull little town of Florida. I was also like, "there are no busses here and stuff! How am I going to get around? I got no car yet; nor did I have a license. I am stuck in the house!"

After the days passed, I got a little more used to it. It was time for me to start my life over now. My family and I were starting to talk about what I wanted to do with my life. My mother thought I wanted to be a computer programmer. Although I thought about that, I started to realize I didn't want to be going to the same office everyday, sitting at a desk and typing on a computer for eight hours a day. A couple days letter, my mother and I went to "Indian River Community College" to sign up myself for the adult high school thing. I did not want to do this, however, because I wanted to go back to regular high school so I can meet new people. I had more than enough credits, 30 from the high school back in NY, Florida requires I think 27. But, of course, I ended up doing it anyways. I signed up to take the GED tests. If I passed, I would not have to take any classes. I passed all the tests and my diploma came in the mail. Everyone was proud of me, and I was proud of myself. I didn't realize it would have been that easy.

So, I got my diploma. Now what, I thought to myself. My Grandfather started asked my what I wanted to do with my life. I told him I wanted to become a cop. He was kind of surprised and then was saying that crap like "A cop? Why? You are good with computers, why not do something with that?" Then I gave him those reasons why and all was good. I went back to the college, this time to the IR Academy and had a little talk with one of the academy guys there. He said in order for me to start in the Academy I had to take a few test and also get a driver's license. I had no problem with the testing part, but I was kind of in a jam with the driver's license part because I had none. When I got home, I thought about taking the class "Intro To Private Investigation." I decided I would. It was also during this time where I got a job, my first job, at Toy's R Us, in last November.

When I started working the first day at TRU, I was quite nervous. I was looking around at a bunch of people I didn't know and the guests who came into the store. I got introduced to all the people who worked there and they all seemed pretty nice. The first day I got shown around and the second I was put on the register. I was like "Oh, no! I am going on the register and will have all these people I did not know come up to me! I also had to greet these people! Oh NOOOOO!" There was another person who started the same time I did and she got to go on the register first. I was behind her, watching. I was like "this shouldn't be so bad!" It was my turn now. I switched places and I was up; all eyes were on me now. As I started out first, I was kind of nervous because I had to talk to these people I didn't know and ask for their phone number, which, as you know, I had a hard time doing. As I progressed during that day, I started to get pretty good at it. But I always asked the person who trained me to come over and help me out with the checks, for I knew I would probably screw it up and it would be my ass! The credit cards were not so bad, just swipe and check the number. The cash part was a piece of cake. I was on the register for about a week and then it was time to switch positions. It was time for me to move to the back, also called "back stock" or "storage room;" I prefer the latter. When I went back there, I was like "Damn, this is a big place! Look at all these boxes; small boxes, large boxes, light boxes, and heavy boxes." This is the place where it all starts, the place where all the boxes get moved out to the floor and gets emptied, the place where the truck gets unloaded. As everyone else who worked back there introduced me to themselves and the others, I started to like the people I worked with back there. I got a tour of the back and learned how to read the manufacturer number on boxes and stuff like that. The next day, I was given the "Scanner", which was used by us "Pick-Up Dudes" to know when a guest purchases something, like a bike, car seat, or (Oh no, not that!) a swing/gym set. The later is a bitch to take out because the boxes are like 6-7 feet tall and weigh about 100-200 pounds.

As I progressed my workdays at TRU, I started to like it. I met new people, who also became good friends of mine. I also started to not have trouble talking to people I did not know, the guests. I also did not have trouble talking to a few of the beautiful girls who worked there. I also, sometime last year, tried to ask a few of those girls out, but failed miserably because I did it in all the wrong ways, asked them, that is.

Although I still liked going to work because I got to meet my new friends and all, I started to get tired of work itself, mainly because it got to be repetitive. I'm not the type of guy who likes repetitive jobs, which was one of the reasons why I chose not to have a career in computers. Another reason is because it just started to stress me out, the reason being the guests. For example, if I were to bring up to a guest something like, lets say, a car seat, which is in a box, taped up, with a few dents in the box, they would be asking me stupid questions like "Um, this box looks like it has been open. Has it?" This is one of the stupid questions because the answer is of course "yes" in the first place; in order for the car seat to get in the box, it must be opened up. But the guest, of course, thinking in the terms of "opened" as in "someone bought it and decided to return it." The guests surely do not want products, which have been opened before, of course not! So, I ended up bringing that box to the back and getting another one; I have learned now to get a box, which is near perfect. Another one is when it is the last box, all dinged up and all, and because it is the last one they ask for a discount! It's as if they are buying the box! Another stupid question is sometimes about a bike, already built and ready to buy. When I bring it up, they are like "Hmm, this bike has a little scratch over here…. Can I get a discount?" Of course the answer is no, unless the scratch is really big, then we do and make the guest happy, which is one of TRU's crappy ethics. One more example of guest's stupidity is when they purchase a big thing like a playhouse or swing set, which are pretty big boxes, and they expect it will fit in a two-door car. So, of course, I take it out, and they are like "Um, hmm, I don't think this will fit, can I come back for it later?" I am like "Duh, you dumb ass" to myself and then say "Sure, do you know someone with a bigger car, truck perhaps?" So, I just wasted my energy on lifting a 200-pound swing set. I hate the people who come in and think they are in such a perfect world!

During the time I was working, I was going to that PI class once a week. As I was going, and the teacher was speaking about PI's and cops and stuff, I changed my mind and decided to become a Private Investigator.

The reason why I wanted to become a cop in the first place back then was mainly because I wanted to help people and because of that phrase Wilton Knight said while I was watching Knight Rider, "One Man Can Make A Difference". As I was going to school throughout those years, and while I was home from school, all I thought about was there being some psychopathic killer who came into the class with a gun or something and was about to blow the class away, until I rushed up and saved the day. There were also similar fantasies I had such as this. I really wanted to be some kind of undercover cop, not one with a uniform. One of my other fantasies I had was sort of like me being like a real-life undercover cop from that old TV show "21 Jumpstreet," which was about these undercover cops who went to High School and helped out people who were in trouble. I knew I couldn't be an undercover cop, unless I was in uniform first and paroled the streets.

Now, the reason why I want to become a PI is because I can do all that plain-clothed detective kind of work, which I thought would be fun and interesting, and not a repetitive process like working at TRU is; I will probably do some repetitive stuff like witness interviews and all, but each time will be different, a different person, and a different story, which will keep the job from getting dull.

During the time I was back home and still going to school and all, I asked myself a pretty damn important question "How can I become a successful cop/PI when I can barely speak to anyone and am such a shy bastard?" This question was bugging me for a while, until I got that job at TRU.

Like, I said above, I was shy and nervous when I first started the job, but as I progressed, I got used to talking to people I did not know, especially guests who approached me and asked me a few questions, such as if we had this or that and where it is. So, that shyness, that decease which impacted my life, was nearly gone. I was glad too.

As I was taking more classes at the college, such as the PI class, I socialized quite a bit with the people around me. In the PI class, we had to interview someone and write a report about it. I did and had no problem with it. Also, as I took the class entitled "Ethics OF The Justice System," I met a couple cool guys, whom are good friends of mine. The one is this guy who drove me home one night. I was around nineteen and still did not get a drivers license, mainly because I am this master procrastinator. I was glad I did not have a license or car that day, though. As we were driving along, we had a nice talk, a little about our lives, what we have in common, and a little bit about the class we were in, about how cool and fun the class was and what a cool dude the teacher was. From then on, he started to take me home every night from class and we started to build a great relationship. To this day, we are still best of friends and that phrase I truly believe in came true, in making a difference in one's life. If it were not for me, as I said to him, he probably would not have a computer right now and know how to use it. This really makes me get that special feeling inside (the feeling I know, that when I wake up and am ready say, "This is going to be a SNAPPY day!" - damn that Mr. Rogers!), the feeing I believe is the third best feeling a person can have (we all know what the first two are!). The second good friend of mine is the one who taught in that class and the class I am taking right now, entitled "Critical Thinking." He is a cool dude also because we too, have a lot of things in common, such as how we like crime, philosophy, and Private Investigation, for he is also a PI, and a Philosopher.

In conclusion, what I did and did not do in my life really turned out for the best of it. Had I have passed all the classes back when I was going to High School and graduated on time, I would not have gotten a High School diploma at IRCC, which was a VERY simple process. Had I not gotten a job at TRU, that decease would probably be here still to this day. If I had a license and decided to go to the Academy, I would not have met two wonderful people, well more than two really. I thought my life was going to suck as soon as I moved here, but my life turned out to be better then the years I had back in New York!

Who knew I would take that PI course with an instructor who is one of the well known PI's in the country and remain good friends with him, and his brother … Who knew, as soon as I got a job at TRU, most of those people will become good friends of mine… or I will lose that taunting decease of mine… or I will meet a couple fascinating people at the classes I took. Who knew? It sure as hell was not me, Justin Rocque, PI!

My life was like what that famous philosopher said back in the day, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." - George Santayana (1863-1952). I am glad I remembered, and still do remember, the past, for I will not be in the wonderful position I am at now.

This concludes the autobiographical work of a man, a man who proved the life you seek, will eventually come to you, when you least expect it.

THE END? Hardly!

Click on the pic of me standing by my car like a cool dude to go back to the main page!

This page was created on May 16, 2004
Last updated on May 18, 2004