Tradeshow Assistant

Of note: NABE is the National Association for Bilingual Education.

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Looking for a Tradeshow Assistant to help manage and coordinate trade shows from start to finish. Need to have excellent communication skills and be very energetic. This will be for the NABE show located in Denver, CO Feb 3rd-6th 2010. If you are interested please e-mail us your resume along with a head shot photo.

Thank you so much for your interest,

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Shame there ain't a button I could press would start this letter off with the sigh that I'm sighing right about now. But geez Louise, things out there are tough on a cotton bustin' old Skipper like myself, landlocked and wondering where the good days off the coast of Alaska with a fleet of purse seiners hauling a few tons of fresh ass seafood a day, wind and sea whipping through my hair like it always did. But that's a young man's game.

Nate Balding's my name. Pleased to meet you.

2010 seems to be the year for change. Change of life, change of pace, change of direction. Forty years I sailed the Pacific, the Arctic and occasionally the Indian (when I wanted to stop into some third world country to test my mettle against whatever latest wonder they'd managed to turn a group of nubile sixteen year olds into - hot damn, but that my heart could still handle THAT rush!), scaling the waves as if mere hillocks of barest impedance as my ships tore across the ocean, taking what we would from her lush bosom, crawling as it was with fish and squid and beasts of the deep. They were good men who sailed with me. Even on the ill fated foray too far into Russian waters.

We were ten days out when the storm was upon us. We lost navigation and heaved too, letting the waters take us where they might, trying to fight through the high waves as they crashed beside us. Most of us made it through. God bless the souls of Dark Smitty (he was Black Irish) and Willie van Arem, dirty Dutch though he was. Weathered and worn, day broke nonetheless and we thanked Christ and our mothers that it had. Trouble was, we'd been up near waters laid just twenty miles out of Irkutsk and this was in the heyday of the Cold War. I don't have to tell you the trouble we'd run down when two Soviet boats were spotted just a ways off, heading our direction no doubt to take our skin and what remained of our lot.

Well, boyo, what do you think we did? God damn right we gave those dirty Pinko shitlickers a run for their money. We set to, full forward and cut the waves like banshee bitches on fire, we did. But it wasn't enough. They had bigger ships - real Navy ships, mind you - and they eventually overtook us. I and my crew spent a good three weeks locked up in our own feces, eating worthless Russkie bread and drinking dirty Russkie water. Until the day came and I watched one of the guard's head just burst, American bullets come zinging right through it.

That's right, son. I was God damn saved by the United States Special Forces. Never got my ships back, but I got new ships, and set out just as soon as I could, fishing up a damned storm.

What was I getting at...

Oh yes! I think you'll find my demeanor pleasant overall, though I refuse to accept any sort of hell from anyone ain't greater rank than myself, and that goes for you, too.

I'm also not fond of working with foreigners. Even the ones speak the language, don't do a good God damn if their accent sounds like someone scraped a cat over hellfire coals. What's this NABE stand for anyway?

That's my terms,

Nate Balding