The Punk Server

Sometimes I wish I could kick my ass into gear to start writing more. Amidst sucking up every last ounce of warmth to go climbing in the cruel approaching winter months and that thing called work, I often forget how much I enjoy writing somewhere where no one can edit my work. In light of my absence, I thought I'd share a few best practices for how I have been making a little dough on the side.

By know means is this lucrative, but hey, if it means that new bag and a few nights out to sushi with my pals, I think that's well worth the effort.

Gigwalk - if you can handle a punk server here and there
I am only sharing this after much contemplation. It's easy to keep good things to yourself, but why not share the love!

I recently discovered an app called Gigwalk and it's really brilliant. Using a similar work-at-will model as ShopKick or Crowdtap, this nifty little app allows businesses to find money hungry individuals (aka - me) via GPS location and gets them to complete a simple "gig". It could be a business photo, product testing, pretty much anything simple enough that they don't want to hire an intern to do. I actually applied for one that asked me to take a picture of the inside of my refrigerator, but thankful that I didn't get it as week-old leftovers and ketchup didn't seem very sexy. But I did get some gigs, I'm up to about $50 so far!

I was using a panoramic iPhone app to take pictures of the inside of local businesses and was caught rather off guard by this punk of a server who wanted to dual with me.

*Note* photo below is not from said restaurant. This is from a darling, little restaurant called the Deadwood Social Club who have wonderful staff and great food.

I kid you not, here is a transcript from my memory:

Me: "Good morning, I'm taking panoramic pictures for Bing that will enhance your business listing and make it easier for users to search and view your restaurant. Do you mind if I snap a few quick photos on my phone?"

Punk Server (imagine in a very flamboyant voice): "Um, well I guess that'd be alright, what exactly do you do and who do you work for?"

Me: "Well sir, I don't work for anyone. I mean, I work, but this is more a freelance thing. I complete this task and it accumulates cash for me to spend in your restaurant."

Punk Sever (not amused at this point): "Well I need some sort of official identification or something."

Me: "Well young man, I'm not an FBI agent, but I can certainly skip this establishment if you wish it not to be photographed, but I really think you want to let me do this."

Punk Server: "Well I guess it's okay, I mean, whatever."

I proceed to photograph the area and happen to leave my handbag on a stool that made it into the photo. Punk server observes this.

Punk Server: "So is your cheap purse going to be in our photograph when it's published online?"

I stare at him, imaging what it would be like if I knew how to roundhouse kick someone to the jaw.

Me: "No problem, happy to redo this so my crappy things aren't in the shot"

Punk Server: "Well just make sure you're representing us well, this is an upscale eatery."

Me: "Yes, I can tell with all this friendly service you've provided me with."


Hotel Points - screw the free nights, give me a Fossil handbag
When I'm not confronting ruder servers, my job requires a fair amount of travel to the other neck of the woods in South Dakota. We've locked in rates at Hilton properties and Hilton Garden Inn is my home away from home. Aside for the very unusual gentleman at the front desk who insists on asking strange questions about my appearance - example - "Mindy, is the your natural hair color?" (I have close to white hair with very evident rootage), it's definitely my fav. Sweet fitness center, which comes in handy about 20% of the time when I drag my butt out of the unbelievably soft beds.

I'm getting off track here. We choose Hilton properties because they definitely have the best rewards system for the choice of hotels in the area. When I first started traveling, I enjoyed a few free room nights here and there, thought that was a pretty good deal. I stumbled upon their rewards shopping mall. Um, yah, you can buy gift cards with your points! Would've guessed? 

I'm only a few more nights away from this beauty.

Not into inappropriately expensive purses? You can also sell your gift cards online. Ebay is a good start, but you can sometimes get up to a 70% exchange rate by selling them at PlasticJungle.com.



 

And Back To Spearfish We Go!

Well, as the old saying goes, everything happens for a reason. Today's reason has yet to show itself, but I'm sure this whole ordeal will have a good outcome.

We got the bearing fixed on Betty Blue, but there was one tiny, little thing missing - the grease cap. Funny enough, a 1977 camper apparently has vintage wheels to boot, making this particular grease cap a real bugger to find. Mechanic Mike disappeared to the bar down the street around 11, leaving us with Diego, from Torrington, Wyoming. "I don't recommend driving on those wheels without a cap, bro," he says to the bemused Kyle. So back on the phone to AAA.

I stand by AAA to the end, it's a wonderful thing to have. But seeing as our camper is a "classic", all the old timers who know how to tow the damn thing are long gone. Tow Truck Guy shows up and the bewildered look on his face as he sized up our vintage ride says, 'you've got to be kidding me.' He informed us the camper will fall off the flatbed if he tows it. He did, however, offer to drag it back to his used car lot and sell it for us. Kyle's eyes lit up like a child at Christmas. After a swift punch to the ribs, he wised up and sent Tow Truck Man on his way.

This is how plan B went down. I think it's ingenious and I'm thankful for the years that I spent jimmy-rigging tree forts as a young child, as this plan wouldn't have gone down without it.

The problem was that we didn't have a cover for the bearing to keep the grease in. So, theoretically a plastic bottle would hold grease. Two rolls of duct tape and a giant Aquavista water bottle later, voila, white trash grease cap. When in Rome. The photo below doesn't do this artwork justice.

I still love my camper. One day I'd like to restore many vintage campers and will treat this as lesson in the importance of proper wheel care.

It's a silent trip home as we reminisce about our time in Gillette. I am twiddling the shell casing from a 9mm Luger that I found in the parking lot of the campground - I call it gun bullet ammo despite my Second Amendment supporting husband's dirty looks. Is it a reminder of our survival tactics this weekend? Or maybe an ominous wake up call to what's to become of Betty Blue? I do not know, but we're both the wiser that spare tires can sure avoid a fun weekend in Gillette.

Mindy P.