Flexecution

Alex Ironside @daily_grinder - Mar 17, 2023

Grinding changed my life. 15 tips on how to 10x your productivity. 🧵 below 👇

Alex Ironside @daily_grinder - Mar 23, 2023

When you look back at your life in 15 years it'll be the number in the bank account that tells your story. Prioritize business.

Alex Ironside @daily_grinder - Apr 2, 2023

Sleep is overrated. While you're out sleeping I'm busy stacking

Alex Ironside @daily_grinder - Apr 4, 2023

I wasn't happy with my life, so I changed it. One step at a time. Set alarms early. Get up before the sun and get ready to grind. Start the day by journaling 15 minutes. What are you grateful for? Opportunity. Independence, no one weighing you down. Woke up hungry. Not for food. Hungry for money. Eating paper. Watch out for paper cuts, and snakes. Next up, eat breakfast. Skip the seed oils. 8 Fried eggs in beef tallow. Yum. Wash it down with athletic greens and creatine gummies. We're fueling the beast. Now it's time to make bread. Not for eating. For spending.

The slideshow progresses, this time to a Youtube video. A stands shirtless in a spotless kitchen with a protein shaker in his hands. He's vigorously shaking it. The camera bobs up and down as it zooms out for dramatic effect.

"I know why you're here."

He pauses the shaking, pops the cap off the his bottle, takes a deep swig, leaving a thin watery protein slurry mustache. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand but misses a spot.

"I know because you are me. Well, were me... I mean I was you. You're still me but just not me right now. Me before."

The man proceeds to walk forward out of the kitchen down the hallway of an empty apartment. It's sparsely decorated, with light wood floors and Viking appliances. The man picks up car keys and sunglasses from a crystal bowl sitting on a table in the hall. He puts on the dark glasses emblazoned with oversized gold ornamentation, and looks into the unsteady camera.

"I was miserable before I unlocked my true potential. Women wouldn't even look at me. Now I have them blowing up my phone and I don't even care." He smiles, revealing impossibly white teeth, and slides his phone shakily up to the camera to reveal 114 unread text messages, presumably from the women he could not have previously engaged with in conversation. He also had 4 missed calls from his mother, but these wouldn't be addressed. "It doesn't take much to change your entire life. Money. Women. Power. It can all be yours too if you know the secrets." Now, a presumably female arm enters the left side of the video handing him a maroon robe that he dons quickly before continuing to walk down the grey hall and entering a large garage filled with exotic sports cars. The robed man stands for a moment pretending to ponder which vehicle will suit him today before picking a bright red one. "Now obviously, I don't need your money." He opens the door to the red sports car and climbs into the driver's seat. He begins lighting a cigar, and takes a long dramatic drag before hanging his mouth open like a fish, allowing the smoke to dramatically spill into the cabin of the car. "I have plenty of it. So I'll give you a great deal. Use the link below to become an platinum member of Iron Keep, the official luxury membership group of Alex Ironside. With a membership you'll get access to free courses on trading crypto, stocks, and real estate along with my Womanizer Manifesto which is guaranteed-" He takes a short emphatic puff of his cigar. "*guaranteed* to give you the skills to master any woman in any situation and leave her wanting, *needing* more." He pauses again, this time starting up the sports car with a roar. "Or if you're too scared you can continue living your miserable, sad fucking life while the rest of us go out and take what is ours. Don't be a waste of space. Either grind or get out." He proceeds to let out a deep belly laugh and slams the car door shut. A muffled coughing can be made out from the other side of the closed door. The screen goes black and then shows a url which runs up into the right boundary of the viewport before awkwardly breaking into a newline below.

https://www.getironsideinternational.com/courses?utm=

AZ5KLZM3FTT&checkout=true

"Mr. Burton, can you confirm this is content from your social media?"

"uh- yea, thats... uhm, that's me."

"So you are Mr. Ironside?"

"Yeah.. I mean, that's just a name I came up with."

"Right. You claim in these videos you make your money from.... stocks?"

"I mean, yeah but no I really.... I make most money from these courses. I mean, In theory. I don't got that many views. I drive Uber sometimes mostly."

"Excuse me Mr. Burton, we just want to get a clear picture to try to understand what is going on."

He felt the bottom of his stomach drop out and suddenly he was 8 years old again. He was sitting under the yellow static fluorescent lightbulbs. Mrs. Hill, the school secretary was occasionally peering over the rim of her bifocals at him as she shuffled through her stack of papers behind her beige metal desk. His face was hot and his cheeks were damp. His hands ran up and down on the dark green cotton cushion of his chair. Principal Newlands office door was closed, but Alex could hear the sound of a chair sliding across the gravel colored carpet. The door handle turned and clicked.

"What is going on? Why am I here?"

"We'll explain shortly Mr. Burton, just a few more questions"

"Do I need a lawyer? Am I in trouble?"

"You are not in trouble we just need to gather some facts around a recent event that occurred in our community."

Officer Rogers made her way over to the table Mr. Ironside was sitting at placed her hands on the table, leaning forward.

"We just want to understand who you are exactly. These videos paint one picture but we were hoping you could fill in some gaps."

"Yeah, I mean this videos are... I lost my job a couple months ago, and I-"

Officer Rogers turned away from Alex and began walking back towards the front of the room toward the door. She cracked it open and stuck her head through the gap, muttering to someone. Someone on the other side cleared their throat and handed her a small stack of papers. She turned quickly and made her way back over to the table.

"Mr. Burton, have you seen this man before?"

Alex looked down at his new Starbury sneakers that his mom purchased for him after incessant pleading for weeks. The white canvas was streaked with playground dirt and grass stains.

"Alex, did you hear us? We said we had a secret we wanted to tell you."

Dakota Tapiero was a giant among the 8 year olds. A towering 4 foot 9 inches, but now she was closer to 4 feet as she was hunched over with her hand cupped whispering into the ear of her best friend, Erica Weinstein, a normal sized girl with frizzy blond hair and a birthmark on her left cheek. Alex was silent.

"You have eyelashes like a girl."

"No I haven't seen him before." He felt a momentary relief. Officer Rogers raised her eyebrows and cocked her head sideways slightly.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well this is Nelson Guerrero, and he was without a doubt your biggest fan."

Alex stared at the printed out screenshot of an Instagram post. He was waiting for the face looking back at him to unlock some sort of sensation, a memory. A man in sunglasses and a white linen button down shirt, halfway buttoned, stood on the deck of a sunset cruise holding a Bud Light up in the air as if toasting a crowd. The caption read: "Flexecution is everything 💪". A face? Nothing.

"I can't say I knew him. I'm flattered to hear he's a fan. Well... I suppose not if he's a criminal."

This wasn't true, Alex was still very much flattered. He had always assumed most of his views were from himself and the faceless mass of eyeballs that $200 a month could purchase him from Belarusian click farms.

"Was. He's dead. Killed himself this morning by climbing into a woodchipper."

Principal Newlands summoned the weary looking child from the lobby of his office. The boy never made eye contact. Staring, as he walked, through his interlocked fingers that rested in front of his waist, down at his Starbury sneakers, which he had begged his mom for that were now streaked with playground dirt and grass stains.

"Well, Alex do you want to tell me what happened?"

The boy struggled to make a sound. His eye sockets felt a pressurized burning that only built up stronger as he searched for the words.

"Alex, Mrs. Plante tells me she found you in the bathroom with something that belonged to her."

Now the boy squirmed in his chair that sat across from Principal Newlands desk. His stained sneakers swinging as he buried his face into his palms and began crying.

"I'm sorry Mr. Newlands. I- I don't want girly eyelashes. I'm sorry to Mrs. Plante. I didn't mean to steal."

"Do you know why it was wrong?"

The boy finally looked up from his hands, his face pink and his lips trembling. He softly nodded his head and wiped his tears from his eyes, one of which was now adorned with angularly snipped eyelashes. Principal Newlands cleared his throat and fumbled into his blazer's innermost pocket. He laid down the hefty pair of art scissors down on his desk.

"You will then return these to Mrs. Plante and apologize. This is a warning Mr. Burton."

Alex fumbled thoughts in his head. He was 8 years old again.