Tampa

In my late teens and early 20s, I lived in Atlanta. Roswell then Alpharetta, properly. I ran away in 1996 or 7 in a sense, after devastating my father and being honorably discharged for an injury during Boot Camp for the United States Coast Guard. I spent 20+ weeks there before they sent me home for a knee injury they considered pre-existing.

I had a loser- drug dealer boyfriend in South Carolina at the time, before and after enlistment. He did not go to my high school, but one of our rivals, and he was bad news for me for two plus years.

I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. The idea of going to college after being discharged from the Coast Guard did not sound appealing at all. What did sound appealing was moving to Atlanta with a boyfriend who apparently was selling massive amounts of weed.

I’m such a dumbass.

My morals were in the garbage and this Bonnie and Clyde type of lifestyle was fairly exciting. We thought we were in love. I never wanted to be involved in that lifestyle so I was in complete denial of where our rent was coming from but I was working and paying 50% of our rent and bills. Apparently his money was coming from his “mother”.

We moved to what I’ll call “Atlanta” and I got a job there fairly quickly. I think in my late teens/early 20s, I probably had 13 jobs until I found “the one.” I worked everywhere from fast food to retail, before I even started a legitimate insurance career.

Me and the loser boyfriend had a very volatile relationship, at times was abusive and we finally parted ways when I found him in bed with a stripper.

You can’t make this shit up.

We lived together for about two years and dated off and on for another half. The last half we were living separately, but I still had a key to his place. One morning after a nasty fight the night before, I decided to let myself in, in which I walked into his room and he was in bed with what I later found out was a stripper.

Awesome.

Fast forward.

I was working at a extremely dark dive bar. Alcoholics and drug addicts galore. I was fairly attractive at this time in my life and used to make tips like crazy as a waitress. There were two regulars that used to come in all the time. The most normal looking people considering the riffraff. We befriended one another in a short time. These two gentlemen owned an insurance agency and told me “I would be great in sales”.

This was beginning of my sales career.

I started dating a normal man of sorts and he and I moved in together. He was my manager at an athletic shoe store I had worked at before. He was a major alcoholic, but a super sweet guy. Anyway, I didn’t have the best track record thus far of dating real winners. Carry on…

I started working for this insurance agency and shortly after I got my sub agents license so I can start selling insurance legally. My subagent turned into agent which turned into life license which turned into property and casualty license, and before you knew it- I was making them and myself money, hand over fist.

I was 22 years old and probably making as much money as someone twice my age. My confidence was high which led me to dump my alcoholic boyfriend and move on to bigger and better things.

I wanted to move to Florida.

I spent a couple years with these guys who were wonderful to me even though they were high on coke all the time. I started shooting my resume via regular mail, down to Tampa, to every insurance company in the phonebook which is where I landed my job at State Farm.

My confidence led me to asking for a salary which I believe was around $35,000 back in 1999. Being that young, and single, that was a lot of money.

I drove down to Tampa for a one-on-one interview and secured the job in which I spent several years and continued growing my resume, my income, and my experience.

I was exceeding goals and working for one of the top agents in the country and even WOW-ing this man, who later became my mentor. I became a life specialist and started selling life insurance exclusively.

I had license after license and finally was back in my Dad’s good graces. I was building a real career. I had my own apartment in a luxury apartment complex and was living a pretty good life.

After a couple years, I met a man who was a stockbroker at a life and variable annuity class and six months later he proposed to me, on a beach, at sunset.

I am getting married!!!!

To be continued…

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Author: jtreska

My name is Julie Treska. I am a 39 year old maniac, mother of 2, step-mother of 2, and wife, to one amazing husband, Micah. I am a sister, a friend, an acquaintance, a colleague, a neighbor... possibly an enemy, a threat, an ex, but one thing I am known for is being 100% real. This is one more of many blogs I've written in my life. Maybe one that I'll keep. It's going to be one giant cluster fuck, of what makes me, me. I am a divorcee', a parent, a woman, a cancer survivor, a divorce survivor, a survivor of many, many things. I am a cook, a writer, a motivational speaker, a pain in the ass, and an inspiration. I am career driven and successful. I am a one percenter, but run out of money every two weeks. I am funny, I am honest, I am raw, and unapologetic. I hope I am able to relate to many, entertain some, and envy a few. I am a bad ass in most everything I do.

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