Sometimes I think about my air value. Air value is the amount of money one has from unclaimed checks, day long gigs that went undocumented, waiting stints that were left on bad terms, and government taxes that no one knew existed.

In a backwards sort of way, your ratio of real-life value versus your air value tells you how big of a scumbag you are. Chances are, those with a significant amount of unclaimed currency won’t spend it on something exciting, but rather paying off heating bills or buying cheap deli meat. They would foolishly waste a large chunk of it on a big dinner, appetizer, and drinks before realizing the mistake they’ve made and pay off their prior debts instead. 

When I think about my air value, and all the jobs I’ve flaked out on, or simply have been too lazy to follow-up with, my mind goes straight to a brand new pair of green and silver, multi-lace Dropbears. That’s the kind of shoe that’ll put hair on a man’s chest - the kind of shoe that strikes fear in a man’s heart for thirty yards away. But then there’s that looming insurance bill…