As I Choose to Remember Them

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Day 82 in the Las Vegas valley

I choose to remember these two icons as young and full of life, as I was when we first met. Both are now gone. And I have to wonder how much longer I have before I join them. Just a reminder that life ends for us all. It's up to us to make the best of it.

Michael Jackson was born the week before me on August 29, 1958 (I was born on September 5) and I remember him when we both turned 11 years old...he was singing his way to superstardom and I was watching Farrah Fawcett on Charlie's Angels. I had the poster of Farrah (seen below) hanging on my bedroom wall. Mr. Jackson, of course, was all over the cover of Teen Magazine.

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Henderson, Nevada, and I hear a conversation:

"All of these people dying at the same age as me....it's making me nervous. I'm starting to think my time is getting closer," says Guy Number One.

Guy Number Two is walking out the door and responds by saying, "I know what you mean. Last year I started doing Yoga and working out and now I feel a lot better. None of us know when it's our time to go."

Ms. Fawcett died after a struggle with anal cancer (no cancer is a picnic, but anal cancer must be really horrible) at the age of 62. She remained beautiful until the end. Unfortunately Mr. Jackson lost his humanity somewhere along the way between the Jackson 5 concerts I remember as a kid, his father's abuse, and an adoring public that wouldn't leave the guy alone.

I just finished reading a book on the history of Las Vegas, and the role of Howard Hughes in developing the valley here. I thought how alike both the King of Pop and Howard Hughes were, both becoming victims of their own success.

And Farrah had those amazing...uh,...teeth.

Day 78 in Las Vegas

God, it's hot. Yes, Lord, it's very hot. This must be what Hell is like. And it's not even July yet.

Having found a job I'm thankful. Having found a job that is primarily an INDOOR job, I'm ecstatic and overjoyed with glee. While the unemployment rate continues to skyrocket I'm aware I've received a miracle. Thousands looking for work and I landed a pretty good job. I was told 500 resumes were submitted to the company where I now work. I hit a long shot. The first log shot I've hit in months. The odds were certainly against me.

You make your own luck, I guess. Each day I filled out online job applications for hours, trying to convince the keyboard I was worthy of a chance. Long gone are the days of walking in and talking your way into a job. Now it's all about filling out online job applications and answering questions like, "How would you react if a co-worker lied about you to the boss?"

Being older was a problem, too. I turned 50 this last year. Who wants to hire an old fart when there are thousands of 20-year olds looking for work? We of the older generation need to be thankful we have a strong work ethic, honesty, integrity, and a willingness to survive at any cost. Many 20-year olds can't tie their own shoes without help or a computer game to show them how.

But I suppose life is what happens when everything else you have planned ends up on a "To-Do" list that remains stuck in your car's ash tray.

I Like the Heat

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Day 41 in Las Vegas

With temperatures above 100 this weekend, the main goal is to stay in the shade. Hanging out on the patio at the local Coffee Bean is like a game of musical chairs, shifting your seat and table around as the sun moves along. "Staying in the shade is my purpose in life," I said to a fellow coffee-drinker. "Today I vow to stay out of this blazing sun."

I know we're in the desert and I expect heat. In fact, I like heat. Hot summer days remind me of home, of years growing up in a climate that had 100-degree days with 90% humidity. Nothing like north Texas heat. Heat in Las Vegas is child's play compared to the sizzle of north Texas.

But north Texas was home and I loved it. So bring on the summer sun and allow me to think of past days growing up when we had no terrorists (or at least I didn't know of any), gas was really cheap (20 cents a gallon?), school was actually safe and fun, friends were plentiful, and Mom was at home cooking supper. Bring on the sizzle and remind me of bike rides to the park, football games in the yard, kick-the-can games at night, Cowboys vs. Redskins, and Friday night parties at someone's house.

I like the heat because it burns away the fog of old age were memories often stay frozen in time. So what if I have to sweat a little.

Happy Mothers Day

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Day 34 in Las Vegas

The Red Rock Resort and Casino were packed with Mothers today, all standing in line to get their freebies: a rose, cookies, champagne, and other odds and ends. People, most husbands, were carrying around foot-massagers and kitchen items, including something that looked like a food-smasher of some kind. The line at the give-away counter was enormous, snaking around the casino amid the slots like a serpent wagging its tail.

I left.

Don't get me wrong...I love Mothers. I miss my own Sainted Mother terribly. But a casino full of hundreds of Mothers can be dangerous. The Fathers in the crowd all seemed a little perplexed, sad mainly, and you could tell most of them preferred to be on the golf course or watching the NBA playoffs. But on Mother's Day what are you going to do? Tiger Woods and Kobe will have to wait.

As I walked toward the parking garage I passed thousands of slot machines stacked high with all kinds of goodies. One lady was hammering away at the 1-cent slot trying to balance her roses in one hand, a cookie, a box containing a foot-massager, and her purse. Another slot had three foot-massager boxes stacked high on top of it, with Mothers nearby laughing and playing and drinking champagne.

I was never so happy to climb into my car and find a nice quiet Starbucks or Coffee Bean.

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Day 25 in Las Vegas
Starbucks, Cheyenne at Hwy. 215

It's a beautiful morning in Summerlin, light cool breeze and mild temperatures. I know this will change as Summer arrives. I grew up in North Texas, so I can handle the heat. I bet 110 degrees here is easier to take than those 110-degree days I spent as a kid in Wichita Falls. At least here the humidity won't kill you.

The talk around the coffee shops this morning is about the unexpected death of local entertainer Danny Gans. Currently appearing at The Encore, he was only 52. No news yet on the cause of his death. He was a big draw on The Strip and well known for his show. His death is another reminder to keep things in perspective. Taking one day at a time, and living each day as if it were your last, is not the worst advice I've taken.

I'm really beginning to like it here, for whatever reason. For now, anyway, I'm looking forward to building a life here. In a city built on the bad luck of others, I feel I'm right at home. It's been my bad luck (or timing) to settle down in a city being slaughtered by the worst economy in decades. Maybe that's one reason I'm drawn to this place. We both are being kicked in the groin by unemployment, a sagging real estate market, and politicians who can't get their act together. Maybe Las Vegas and I have a common goal: arise from the ashes and come out stronger on the other side of the misery currently besetting us.

I Need Real Estate Investors

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Day 23 in Las Vegas
Starbucks, Cheyenne at Hwy. 215

The two women were talking about real estate, so my ears perked up. Real estate talk is among my favorite hobbies. As a real estate broker myself, I spend half my time reading and learning all I can about short sales, wholesaling, selling, marketing, investing, Realtors, brokerage, and finance. Most recently I've been studying short sales, since banks are holding a lot of unwanted properties. (With a short sale, you're asking the bank to take less than what is owed on the property...and many times the bank will jump at a short sale in order to minimize the loss.)

The women talking nearby were looking for a home. One woman was obviously the agent and the other was a home buyer. The agent told the buyer that the market was near bottoming out and apparently things will begin to turn around next year. It seems what I've been reading in the paper agrees.

The Las Vegas area's job market has plummeted, reaching an unemployment rate of around 10%. Home prices have taken a beating and the commercial sector is in the toilet. It's a great time for those who have cash, however. Bargains are available on all kinds of properties. And with the market rebounding in 2010, it's a great time to invest.

I'm looking to build my list of investors in the Las Vegas area and will be designing a web site to promote my own real estate activity in the coming year. The real estate business has always been in my blood and I enjoy making money in it when I can.

If you're an investor, email me at mitch (at) mitchellaiken.com. I'm a wholesaler looking to go on the hunt for some great deals. Contact me and let's make some money!

The Employment Center

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Day 19 in Las Vegas
The Coffee Bean's black couch

The walk through the lobby is no problem. I know where I'm going so the maze of carpet and tile don't confuse me. The furniture does, however. I'm early for my meeting so I sit down in a very weird looking chair in the lobby of the resort. The frame is made of wire mesh, the cushion not that soft. When will furniture designers get a clue that a chair should be comfortable to sit in? People are walking about, a bellman checking a computer terminal, a suited employee observing the scene.

After a few minutes I exit the front doors of the lobby and turn right. I'm looking for a metal door with a sign above it: "Employment Center." I find it about a hundred yards down the sidewalk from the entrance to the resort. For some reason my heart begins to beat faster, sweat begins to accumulate beneath my pits and I begin to feel a nervousness inch it's way up my spine.

"Why the hell am I so nervous," I ask myself. "What's the problem?" I look up at the "Employment Center" sign and take a deep breath. I've heard that deep breathing helps relieve anxiety.

I enter the metal doors and see a small sign pointing left saying "Team Members." Well I'm not a team member. I've not been part of a team in years. Thankfully another sign is pointing right with the words "Employment Center." The haves and the have-nots. The employed and the unemployed. The paid and the unpaid. Being separated by these two signs gives me pause: go left because you have a job, go right if you need one.

I go right, of course. As I enter the Employment Center waiting room it immediately occurs to me that I'm in a doctor's office. Am I lost? Chairs lined up in neat little rows, no signs of life or a sense of humor. The one difference is the flat-panel screen hanging on the wall to the left. I've never seen a doctor's office with a television in it. Along another wall are two computer terminals. The room is spare of any decoration, save for a wall poster or two.

Opposite me are two side doors leading to small offices. After a few moments I notice a sign-in sheet. My job application was done completely online and the web site automatically assigned me an interview time. The sign-in sheet is for those who have an appointment, as it clearly spells out. No walk-ins welcome. I'm glad to be a part of the included, the ones who have an appointment time. I sign my name and my time of arrival, happy to see I am three minutes early.

CNN is broadcasting on the flat-panel screen as I sit down in the waiting area. A discussion over torture is underway, and former vice-president Dick Cheney's belief that waterboarding was an effective use of the CIA's time is the topic. So what if some terrorist gets water thrown on him a few times...what's the big deal? Job-hunting is far worse.

I think to myself at that moment that looking for a job in this economic downturn is a kind of torture. How bad can waterboarding be? Try filling out dozens of online job applications.

I see nine other job-seekers waiting along with me in the sterile room. We are all in our own little worlds, no one is saying anything. My attempt at a humorous remark is unnoticed. Tough room. We all just sit there, some are staring at the pundits on CNN, others are staring at their laps.

Twenty minutes later I'm called into one of the offices. I feel like I am back in high school, being called into the Principal's office. "Now, Mitch, I know you didn't want to insult Ms. Dollar that way. You've got to stop making fun of the way people dress. Especially your teachers." Funny how looking for a job makes you feel like a scared, young, inexperienced high school kid.

"Sorry for the delay," the young woman says. I'm old enough to be her father. "Won't you have a seat?"

The office is small, not much more than a closet. The desk and chairs take up most of the room. An enormous computer monitor sits to one side, blocking my view of the interviewer. She punches a while on her keyboard and brings up my file. She is reviewing my online job application and has a curious smile on her face, a smile that seems glued on rather than authentic. She is going through the motions. Another job application, another interview, another day doing the same old routine of asking silly questions and filling out silly forms. Yada, yada.

I say to myself, "Why pay a real person to sit here and go through this...why not just have me punch in answers on a computer? Does she even know I'm sitting here?"

After a couple of goofy questions like "How would you provide someone with top level service?" and "Do you like being a part of a team?", she calmly says my file will be provided to the appropriate departments and if an opening is available that fits my application then I will be contacted. Yada, yada, yada.

As I walk out of the Employment Center I glance up at the CNN broadcast on the flat-panel screen. Wolf Blitzer is moderating a discussion about bringing Dick Cheney and other former Bush administrators to justice for war crimes. I look at the other faces staring blankly out into space waiting to be called in for their interview and I think I'm in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Someone change the channel.