After a notary’s lived a not so exalted life (authenticating less than authentic documents) but not so awful life (remembering to replace his expired commission and milk) he may not be headed for heaven or hell but somewhere in between: Notary purgatory. It’s a temporary way station. The gates of heaven are on one side, gates of hell on the other. The hell of indecision is magnified here, so you’re undecided about which place you want to ultimately wind up in. Maybe you aren’t sure which destination you deserve, and maybe neither is God! You always get paid but never get paid that well. You always get clients but they always micromanage you. You start out writing a blog you think has possibilities and it winds up having zilch. Uh-oh, I’ve entered Notary Hell! In Notary Hell, what you get paid for in signings gets eaten up and then some by the cost of gas to get there.
In Notary Hell, you get bitten by the rabid dogs of clients. In Notary Purgatory, you get bitten by the clients. In Notary Hell, you witness your clients having sex. In Notary Purgatory, you witness your clients’ dogs having sex. In regular hell, you witness your parents having sex, but let’s not go there. In Buddhist Notary Purgatory, you’d witness 31 planes of existence. You’ll find Baskin-Robbins here, but the fact all 31 flavors are melted is more hellish than purgatory-ish.
In Notary Hell, the signers all use invisible ink and you don’t get paid. In Notary Purgatory, you do get paid but you spend it all on lottery tickets.
The only way to move from Notary Purgatory to Notary Heaven is to have a righteous state of mind. This may not apply, however, in the state of New Jersey.
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