When I first ran Magic events they were for Dorian Redburn nee Anders and I’d get a fist full of packs and a lunch for a day of judging.  I referred to it as my “moonpie” compensation scheme and I did that until I certed officially as a Level 1 judge.  I quickly got to L2 after an active 10 month period and have been there since and at most events, I get between a box and two boxes of product a day which comes out to about $8 an hour and is unimpressive overall but is enough to justify burning days and destroying feet to do it, until today.

I was asked by Cyborg 1 to run a GPT this weekend so I suited up in my black judge duds and black market suspenders to run an event of probably 30-50 people, possibly on the upper side if history proved true.  A total of 12 people showed and I couldn’t bring myself to accept full compensation so I offered to be paid entirely in whatever snacks from the store I could consume.  Here I was, with 12 people, not really having to answer any rules questions, vastly overdressed compared to those walking in and out, staring into the middle distance unable to bring myself to just read something, and eating moonpies.

I’ve come full circle.  I’m getting out.

I woke up at 8:20, prepared myself for a day of pre-release and left Totem Lodge at 8:40.  I drove to Wawa for two Turkey Sausage bagels, a strawberry milk, and a gallon bottle of water.  I drove another 15 minutes and arrived at the tournament venue when a terrible sense of wrongness overcame me: It was 8:55 on the morning of a pre-release and I was still in my car.  Normally, by then, I’d woken up at 5:30 AM, reviewed the current set’s FAQ while on the 6:04 AM train with people who didn’t realize the event wouldn’t open until 8:00 AM.

The TO brought pizza and I was done by 4:00 PM.  Being used to days at Magic Tournaments that’d scare a 19th century coal miner I couldn’t accept payment.  I didn’t run a pre-release I ran a large FNM followed by a booster draft.

I didn’t sleep much yesterday evening and was kinda giggly at Friday Night Magic (FNM). I brought a router to add to the store so I could dick around online during events in between rules questions and while waiting to install it practiced my impression of a router undercover as a horseshoe crab.  Trevor Rowe (pictured, right) said something dumb and I wanted to hit him, so I chose another way to hit him.
STP80096
I call it the router slap.  It’s the IT equivalent of a bitch slap.  I strongly recommend all GeekSquad employees learn this maneuver.   I think the whole picture is sold by the guy with the Fritos doing the “oh shit!” face in the background and the guy over my right arm.