I went to work last night. I vaguely remember applying via telephone for a position that I never expected to get. Days went by and just when I felt like all hope was lost, there was a message on my machine. The woman on the phone sounded somewhat ambiguous. Just left a name, a number, and said that I needed to call back at my convenience regarding a "personal business matter'. Now, I know enough about these "personal business matters". Thats the code word for "pay off your fucking debts", I guess somehow they decided that "regarding personal business matters" would be a more successful phrase to use to get debtors to call back than, say, "you're a flake". However, I don't think I quite understand that. Its not like I somehow believe that when I call that number someone is going to be offering me money, or capital for an investment, or any kind of Ed McMahon deal. I know its a bill collector. But I always call back. I don't own shit. So I speak to them in full confidence that, in all actuality, they have absolutely no leverage in an argument against me.
ANYWAY…
I called this ambiguous woman back regarding "a personal business matter". And to my surprise, it really was about an actual business matter. She was representing a theatre, similar to The Fabulous Fox Theatre. She just called to inform me that they received my resume and that I was being advanced to their next stage in the application process. What position I had applied isn't clear at this point. I'd assume something rather important, more than a ticket taker, more than an usher, more than a stagehand. It must have been important, I'd been losing sleep over wanting this job so badly. I hung up happy, just taking pride that I had made it past the first round.
Some time went by
No word.
More time went by.
maybe its just a long process
they must be thinking hard
i'm not going to get this job
i'll get this job.
they just got a lot to think over.
think positively.
I've had a lot of jobs. I've mowed grass, I've painted houses, I've baby sat, I've trimmed bushes, I've run errands. I've bagged groceries, pushed carts, made sandwiches, delivered sandwiches, bossed people around who made sandwiches, bossed people around who delivered sandwiches. I've sold cds, sold movies, taken out the trash, and taken money to the bank. I've tapped kegs, carried kegs, poured beer, mixed drinks, and the like. I've sold more cds, movies, tvs, cameras, and pushed just about every product you could imagine in a big box store past the point of purchase. All these were just jobs. None of them deserved loyalty. There was always something more. I've always heard that you couldn't be happy with your situation if you couldn't be happy with yourself. This was never the case. I was always happy with myself, but never really happy with where I was. I was just doing what I had to do. Nothing less, and sure as hell nothing more. It was never a case of me being unhappy with myself. None of them were my dream job. I wasn't going to be happy with my situation until I had that. This job I was thinking positively about was just that. All I wanted and all I needed.
I got another message on my machine. I got a job. They needed me to work tonight. Big performance tonight. Still not sure on the position. But I was happy. I imagined myself amongst the high class, doing what I wanted to do under the ornate gold leaved ceilings surrounded by the well-to-do in top hats and keys to their luxury cars jingling in their well pleated pants. I was to show up tonight.
I put on my black coat, my white shirt, my black tie, and my black shoes, brushed my hair, sprayed some cologne, and headed to work. I parked at a meter around the corner and walked in like I owned the place. I never called them back about the message so I was still clueless as to what was going on, and what I was to do. I walked in and somehow assigned myself the job of usher. This isn't what I applied for. This position was at the bottom of the ladder and far below what I expected to do. But its what I was going to do.
I escorted a few people to their seats and sat quietly in the front of the crowd, blocking some views, waiting for my next duty. The singer, who was a Sinatra meets Ricky Martin type clued me into that next duty. He left the stage and began to croon in the crowd. I moved barricades, and anything blocking his way. I was the only one doing this, and had never done it before, I just assumed that it was my job to do. Soon I moved to the steps to flanked the crowd, they were positioned as the entrance to an auditorium at a movie theatre would be. But consisted of long gently sloping steps from the stage to the exit. I sat there for a while and decided my shift was over. I walked towards the exit and their was a ticket taker fully clad in a tuxedo, very sharp. He looked at me as if i were attempting to assassinate a head-of-state. According to him I didn't belong there. I don't know how he knew anything about that. But I soon realized I did, in fact, not belong there. He attempted to throw me out. I insisted on returning to where I was last stationed, on the stairs, to retrieve my shoes, which I assumed I decided to remove for some reason. I retrieved them. Imagine my surprise when I realized I had not worn black shoes at all, but those shitty brown leather slip on birkenstocks (which I hope anyone would know, I would never own).
I left.
I got outside and then realized that while I had been wearing a snazzy black coat, white, shirt, and black tie... I had been wearing black gym-shorts and not the black pants I had previously assumed. I realllllllllly didn't belong there. I walked around the building past the rest of the ushers who were playing a basketball game in the back of the theatre and only paused to laugh at me as I left. I took the ticket for an expired meter off my car, and headed home; ending my first and only night at my dream job.
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