My plan had been to skip food entirely today, let my intestines rest and recuperate and empty themselves, to end the runs. After a solid dump, though, problem solved. Instead I had three cheese sandwiches and two Twinkies for breakfast.
♦ ♦ ♦
Workwise, life has gotten complex. I'd rather work a bunch of little jobs than be tied to one job steady, but LeeAnn and Stevi want me on the sidewalk full-time for at least a few more weeks. Can't afford to say no to that, but I've also been working 2-3 nights a week for Jose Sounds Sensational. Plus, the phone calls keep coming in, "anything legal for $5 an hour." People want me to do work I simply don't have time to do.
It's a good problem to have, I guess, and here's the crazy solution:
Pike is only working part-time at his day job, so I showed him my flyers, explained "anything legal," and asked if he'd be willing and able to handle my overflow odd jobs. He said OK, so I guess he's my new business partner?
And it gets more complicated: Jose, my boss 2-3 hours at a time 2-3 nights a week, left a message on my voice mail asking why I was a no-show when he did the sound at a political event last night, and "reminding" me to be at his house tomorrow morning, to do some equipment checks and load the truck, before another gig tomorrow night.
That's bullshit. I called back, got his voice mail, and left a long and aggravated message:
"Earth to Jose. You told me about last night's event, and I'm sorry I was too tired to go, but I thought I'd been invited to listen to a speech. You never told me I was doing the sound, or I would've been there!
"And as for working tomorrow morning and tomorrow night — Jose, your call is the first I've heard about it. You have to communicate better! You can't have me tomorrow morning. I'm booked elsewhere. If you need help, you can have my flatmate Pike — he's helping me cover work and he probably knows more about speakers and mikes than I do .
"If you want Pike in the morning, call and let me know. If you need me tomorrow night, or him, call and let me know. Mostly, though, you gotta let me know."
Two thoughts on this:
First, Jose is my boss — or one of my several bosses. I like him, like working for him, but I love that I don't have to kiss his ass. Darla and Babs at Macy's were far worse bosses than Jose, but I couldn't have hollered at them like I just hollered at Jose. Which is excellent.
But second, is it possible I screwed up and was supposed to work with Jose last night? I'm an irresponsible schmuck in my life, but I take work fairly seriously, and more seriously now that I'm free-lancing. I am 95% certain that Jose never said that he wanted me to work last night, and 100% certain he never mentioned working tomorrow until today.
I'm not going to lose sleep over any of it, though. I talked to Pike, and he's willing to work for Jose tomorrow morning if Jose calls. He hasn't called, though, and it's my bedtime, so fuck him, I'm turning in.
From Pathetic Life #10
Friday, March 17, 1995
This
is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago,
called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but
might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting
things, so parental guidance is advised.
No comments:
Post a Comment
🚨🚨 BY THE WAY... 🚨🚨
The site's software sometimes swallows comments. If it eats yours, send an email and I'll get it posted.