There isn't much to report this week in the way of news, so I'm reposting a story I wrote from November 23, 2008 on how I discovered the wonderland of Ebay to keep the Space Center operational 16 years ago. The story is titled "My Addiction"
My New Addiction The slide into addiction is like boarding a rollercoaster blindfolded—thrilling at first, but you soon realize you’re hurtling toward chaos. It begins with a harmless taste, a fleeting moment you think you can brush off. But before you know it, you’re Alice, stepping through the Looking Glass, and there’s no way back. My journey began innocently enough at the start of the week. I was on the Voyager’s Bridge, chatting with a teacher I’ve known since the days we supposedly taught hieroglyphics to Pharaoh’s kids. “What’s the hardest part of your job?” he asked, leaning casually against the console. “The repetition,” I replied. “But it’s a tight race with my worst fear: equipment failure. Imagine a teacher all set to bring their class to the Space Center, only to find out the trip is canceled because something broke. That teacher would face mutiny—a modern-day tar and feathering involving spit wads and glitter glue.” He nodded, sympathetically. “Sounds grim.” “Oh, it is,” I said, shaking my head. “We’ve avoided it so far by having spares for almost everything. But keeping this place running feels like balancing a starship on a unicycle.” The fateful mission began. We were running *Intolerance*—one of our more dramatic field trip scenarios. All was well until I heard Metta, our control room magician, muttering something ominous about the primary DVD player. My heart skipped. That DVD player was our unicorn—a relic from an ancient time when manufacturers blessed us with a ‘cancel on-screen display’ option. “It won’t play,” she announced grimly. “It keeps shutting off.” Cue mini-crisis. I had to keep the mission going while Metta worked her magic. And magic it was. She manipulated the backup DVD player like a maestro, reversing scenes, timing transitions perfectly, and switching between screens faster than a caffeinated gamer in a speedrun. Watching her was like witnessing an Olympic event in multitasking. By the end, I wanted to award her the Space Center Purple Heart—and maybe a standing ovation. The school left blissfully unaware of the behind-the-scenes heroics. But I was already spiraling into despair. The Panasonic S29 and S35 models were extinct, and the only viable replacement—the S97—cost enough to fund a small moon colony. Reluctantly, I turned to my computer, hovered over the “buy now” button, and prepared to sacrifice my budget to the retail gods. Then, like a beacon in the dark, inspiration struck. “eBay,” I whispered dramatically. My team stared as if I’d just discovered warp drive. Undeterred, I plunged into the world of online auctions—a place I’d only heard about in hushed tones. Within an hour, I’d found several used models. By the end of the day, I had not only joined the eBay cult but also emerged victorious in multiple bidding wars. I saved hundreds of dollars. I felt like I’d conquered the galaxy. And that, dear friends, was my first taste of the forbidden fruit. It didn’t stop there. With my defenses down, I searched for more. Equipment for the Space Center. Gadgets for home. The sheer *bargains!* The adrenaline rush of bidding wars! One auction got so intense, I was ready to challenge my rival bidder to a duel—lightsabers at dawn. Fast forward a few days. I’ve secured DVD players for Voyager and Phoenix, plus a spare for good measure. The equipment crisis is averted, but now I have a new problem: eBay addiction. Is there an eBay Anonymous? Because I’m slipping fast. Christmas is around the corner, and eBay promises a treasure trove of gifts. Sure, they’re ‘gently used,’ but no one needs to know Aunt Marge’s gift was pre-loved by someone named Carl. So here’s the deal, troops: if you see me on eBay at work, you have my permission to hit me with an ice-cold bucket of water. But until then, I’ve got two sisters in California who deserve some vintage nicnaks from their suddenly generous big brother. Wish me luck in the trenches. Mr. Williamson Imaginarium Theater.
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AuthorMy name is Victor Williamson. I founded the Christa McAuliffe Space Center in 1990. I current teach 6th grade at Renaissance Academy and am the Space Center Outreach Coordinator (I take care of the volunteers). You can reach me by email: [email protected] Archives
October 2024
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