“You need to know that I´m in a cult and we do pet socks”, I tell HR. #cute

“You need to know that I´m in a cult and we do pet socks”, I tell HR. #cute

“Dad!”, she replies as she reaches over for the digitalpapitas, “why do you keep these things secret?”

“Well”, I reply as I lean back in my chair in the kitchen, “it´s not a secret–I just don´t know why you need, or would want, to know.”

“Well”, she replies as she puts a handful in her mouth, “I want to know YOU–more about you.”


I pause; should I tell her?

Go on–take a chance, my wife thinks to me.

“Ok”, I say as I lean forward and pick up my taza, “we have rules:

➡ No hugs–that creates feelings and makes things weird; just don´t.

➡ First names only–and don´t talk in public, or make eye contact. Trust me on this one.

➡ Pet Socks. You need to have pet socks for your cat. Just how things go!

➡ Even though your cat is part of the family, don´t make your avatar YOU and Your Cat; it´s a part of the family, but it´s still a cat.

➡ We´re respectful–we don´t like THAT behavior. You´ll be ostracized.

➡ We don´t really speak in CODE–the best bet is to be straight-forward and to talk like an adult.

➡ You need to have chill–it´s boring, that´s our thing. We don´t do bored–that´s the enemy.”

HR pauses; I can do those things.

She leans back in her chair.

“I want to be in your cult, dad”, HR says as she reaches for another handful of digitalpapitas.

“Well”, I say as I take a sip of coffee, “you can submit an application like everyone else.”

“How do I do that?”, she asks as she leans forward and picks up her taza.

“Oh!”, I reply as I take another sip of my coffee, “it´s easy–just say hi!”

“That´s it?”, she says as she takes a sip of her coffee, “I just say Hi!?”

“Well”, I reply as I lean back in my chair, “that´s how you start–it´s a process. It takes time to join my cult. You need to start somewhere;

Say hi!, and let me respond; see how it goes.”

“So”, she says as she chews the food in her mouth, “I just greet you with an introduction.”

“Woah! Woah! Woah”, I reply as I slam my taza on the table, “be fucking friendly or we´ll reject you from our cult.”

“So”, my wife says as she stirs the pot of digitalzanahorias, “are you going to accept her into your cult?”

“You know”, I reply as I recline the chair in the living room, “I don´t think she has the chill yet. She wants to bring drama around ´cause she´s bored. I don´t think it would be a good fit. I saw her pet socks–I saw her pet socks. She put a picture of the cat on her socks–we don´t do that. We get super small socks from the pet store and put them on our animals–you know, it just starts that way. You let one person join who doesn´t follow the rules–and next thing, you know, it´s anarachy and stress. I know she´s trying to be friends and she wants me more in her life–I just don´t think she understands–

That, it´s about how it naturally happens. Everyone has a plan.

We are more about less planning, controlling, and more friendly; there´s really not much more to it then that.”

“I think”, my wife says as she puts the platter on the kitchen table, “that you should let her in.”

“No”, I reply as I lean forward and pick up the digitalspoon, “we have rules for a reason. I respect her rights; that´s the foundation of everything; bringing her into my life, more, would be to bring her into the life of all those in my cult also–it would be irresponsible of me. I respect the rights of others; without rules, it would just be a cult–not a CULT.”

“Yeah”, my wife says as she puts the scoop of hot vegetables on to her plate, “whatever.”

I pause; yeah. I turn my head to look out the window; I turn back to my plate; I eat a spoonful; I turn my head to my wife.

“It´s delicious”, I tell her.

“Thanks”, she replies, “it´s a new recipe.”

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