Man I really don’t want to write tonight. Not much to write about. Work, blah blah blah. Bill sleeps in the next room. The TV is on, Keith Olbermann bellowing. Sent a few more resumes out today.
Was able to leave the cigar shop and have an hour to myself, sitting on a bench by the park. It’s always the same isn’t it? Right now I sit, listening and posting videos from Scritti Politti on Facebook.
Occasionally my day focused on the job I used to have at Putnam Lovell as well as Bio-IB. Putnam Lovell because it was really a good job before it went south. I inadvertently got out of there at the right time.
They were trying to get rid of me, but I actually left and wound up at Wolff Olins for 9 months. In those 9 months at Wolff Olins, I did get to see Scritti Politti live at the Bowery Ballroom.
That was splendid and foolish me, I should have stayed a little while longer at the show to shake Green Garstide’s hand. Or at least polish Rhodri Marsden’s eyeglasses. But I had too much too drink, too much of that black beer. Still however skewed my memories might be, I do recall having a good time.
Thinking about Bio-IB was mainly since the United Nations is in session and all the figureheads are in town on the east side. That was generally a good time, hectic with streets blocked off but interesting and somewhat exciting all the same.
I did get in touch with Greg Stevens a week or so ago, asking if he had any employment leads. He didn’t but told me Vivek had started working at a new company I sent Vivek a text message wishing him well and fishing for a job offer. No response from him.
I guess the scheme of selling boxes preloaded with movies to Asian Indian hotel and motel owners along the east coast fell by the wayside. Haven’t heard from Harpy lately. I blew up at him when I was feeling vulnerable and the next day apologized for it.
Oh well, perhaps he’s doing his William Holden imitation. Where is his Stephanie Powers when he needs her? Maybe he’s doing a Marie Provost act instead since William Holden was too butch and Harpy could have probably filled Marie Provost’s shoes better.
Oh how the past haunts me. Much more than the present I might add.
I received $100.00 from Google as a way of saying thanks for using Ad Sense on this here blog. But I don’t use Ad Sense so the $100.00 card is worthless, unless I am in dire need of a bookmark. Actually it’s no good since it expired on September 3rd.
So a bookmark it is. It was supposed to help me attract more of the visitors that I really want: loyal visitors who keep coming back. And according to Google Analytics, I do have some loyal visitors. Mainly in New York but on the other side of the country as well.
They keep coming back for some reason. They never write though. They’re just numbers I guess. That’s right, you are just a number. Don’t take it personally, even though it might be odd.
Well here it is Tuesday forme, Wednesday for you. Not much I can do about it. Not much I can do about anything. I’m in the same boat as a lot of people and as far as I can tell, we are all pretty much miserable.
At least I have Xanax to get me through the day. Others use booze, heroin, whatever may be handy.
The latest twist in the saga of working retail, is that next month, I’ll probably have to participate in Monday Night Football. Not playing it, not watching it, just having to be in the store while the game goes on.
And if there is any one sport that I don’t like, it’s football. I already plan on having a good book to read and I’ll likely be writing at the cigar shop and posting it when I get home, which should be sometime around 2:00 in the morning.
I certainly wasn’t asked, but the new schedule is out and one of those games is on my late shift. I’m not happy about but who the fuck cares? I have a job don’t I? So shut up and stop complaining.
Still I continue to look elsewhere for work, hopefully getting out before the holiday rush, but no one is hiring. No word from CVS, Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts. And no word from that guy Ian who offered me a job last month.
Perhaps he’s a flake. He did say I should hear something mid- September or by the end of the month and that is rapidly approaching.
Work was the usual stupid nonsense. Redundant? Perhaps. The ride to work was more of the banal. Sat there at the bus stop as the 10:15AM rolled past me, opting for the 10:30 bis instead. It wasn’t a crowded bus, still some familiar faces got on.
No Angie Baby, but the tattooed guy from the summer walked on board. His birth date is tattooed in a digital manner and it surprisingly matched the small tea cup saucers embedded in his earlobes.
I got off the subway with about 25 minutes to spare and just sat on a bench across from the cigar shop. The Xanax had kicked in so I didn’t really care much. It was Marcus, Calvin and Don with Sean coming in after school.
Some of the regulars floated in and out of the cigar shop and stationed themselves in the back room. Since Don was on the shift, I was able to leave the shop for my lunch hour for the first time in days. It really made a difference, to be able just to go outside instead of looking at the same four walls I would be stuck with for ten hours.
I wandered over to yet another bench by the park, had a cigar and read some of the New Yorker. I miss having a camera. I have a cellphone camera, but it’s definitely not the same thing.
I left the shop, around 9:13 tonight and to my surprise it was pouring out. I never see the weather outside. Still I plugged in the second half of the Buzzcocks, A Different Kind of Tension. Mainly heard I Don’t Know What to Do with My Life, Money, Hollow Inside, and A Different Kind of Tension.
By the time I got to the bus terminal, I Believe came on and since that is a 7 minute song, I’ll round the time to 17 minutes and 15 seconds. Probably would have been shorter, but it was raining after all.
That’s about all I have to write about. Bill is sore after training with a physical trainer.
Written at work. 25 minutes to go. Xanax seems to help. Had to increase the dosage from half a tab to a whole tab. I’m working solo. Just counted the safe surreptitiously.
Usually one person mans the front and whomever counts the safe is safely hidden in the back. Well being the only person I did the counting with an ear for the chime that rings whenever someone breaks through the electric eye.
Last night I had a talk with Ray, a friend of Pedro’s I’ve known Ray for a while and though we’re not as close as he and Pedro, we do look out for each other.
Now written back in Hoboken.
Ray was a bit of a runaround back in the day but lately he’s been posting very positive messages on his Facebook page. Probably since he’s settled down since he now has a daughter that he may have seen some light causing the philosophical change of life.
I sent him a message the other day, asking him about his job. Turns out he’s been working at a boutique hotel in midtown. We spoke last night at midnight. He mentioned that there was a management takeover and some heads rolled.
He got my hopes up saying that there maybe a front desk position or a position taking reservations. It was a good talk and I hung up and went to bed feeling somewhat optimistic. Slept rather well too. No dreams that I can remember, but I haven’t had cannabis freed reams in a while.
Ahh the joys of self medicating. Bill was up and out by 6:00AM, leaving me to sleep until 8:30 when I eventually stirred. It wasn’t the usual 8:00 today and it hasn’t been for a week or so. I try to get as much sleep for myself lately.
Nice breakfast, the usual- coffee and cereal after a nice shower. Some time spent checking emails, drinking coffee and finishing up a cigar that I had started last night. It was so good that I even smoked it walking to the bus stop.
And since I wasn’t done with it, I let the early bus go by and waited for the second bus. I’ve written before that I haven’t been reading much at all on the bus headed into the city and I just zone out, staring out the window wondering how long Troy Towers will be precariously located on the side of the Palisades.
A trip through the Lincoln Tunnel, depositing me at the bus terminal where I walked through to the subway, taking routes that irrational people take. To my luck whether good or bad, the train was approaching the station as I stepped onto the platform and soon enough I was back in front of the store.
It was Marcus, Calvin and myself. I would be working with Calvin, effectively making me a prisoner of the store for an entire 10 hours. Due to their ineptitude I am not able to leave for my hour to myself. So I sat in the backroom, trying to bury my nose in a book.
Unfortunately the closet case opera singer came in with some of his buddies (who don’t know that the chubby old money dowager empress is in the closet) swishing his way about despite a false front of machismo. He has a son, he can’t be in the closet!
Still it’s not my place to out someone from their ample sized walk in closet. The day mainly passed by without incident. Calvin split at 7:30 and I was there, solo until 9-ish. My friend My friend stopped by and it was good to see him.
It’s been an intense 48 hours. And I had off from work but still work, or the concept of work, specifically the cigar shop crept into my life. As you may read what I have written in the past, I’m not happy working at the cigar shop.
It’s certainly taken it’s toll. I know, you’re reading this and probably thinking, ‘what a whiner’. And maybe it is whining. But I’m despondent. Despairing even.
At the cocktail party at Rand and Lisa’s where I of course explained how unhappy I’ve been working at the cigar shop, telling them about the bomb scares, how I feel I am working in a target zone, they were sympathetic.
I even discussed with Lois’ husband Fred, working at the supermarket.. He makes even less than I do now, and feels the spot is managed by assholes. So basically it was not suggested that I work there. Lisa works at Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken and told me she would keep an eye out for me if something popped up.
A few vodka tonics and everything was fine. Came home and went to sleep. But when I woke up, the last dreams I had were concerning work, leaving me to wake up feeling there was no escape from the cigar shop, even when I am sleeping.
It certainly tainted the rest of my day.
Things did get a little better later on when I was in the supermarket buying milk. I heard a voice behind me telling me that I should buy the organic milk. I ignored the voice at first and when it was repeated I turned around and saw it was Ira Kaplan.
It was good to see him. I hadn’t seen him since before the holidays last year. I asked him how Yo La Tengo were doing and he mentioned that they were about to go on a tour of South America. I asked if they needed a roadie and he said they didn’t, and in any event it would involve a lot of hard work.
But, it was good to see Ira. I asked about Georgia and he said she was doing well. I always liked Ira, I never had any problems with him. Plus he always got my jokes, no matter how obscure they might have been.
Singing ‘Papa John Creach’ to the tune of Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach is what springs to mind. We were having such a nice chat that I even followed him to the check out even though I wasn’t done with my shopping.
I came home and did some job searching which caused more despair. Bill was napping and before he napped I suggested that maybe we could take a walk around Hoboken when he woke up. He said maybe and when he woke up he told me he had to go to a meeting in the city, so no walk for us.
That left me with the blues. I watched Zombieland which was alright. It had a few surprises, and some pretty stupid plot points. I still think Jesse Eisenberg reminds me of a younger Ira Kaplan, but that may be residue from Adventureland which Yo La Tengo did the music for.
I made myself a nice dinner for the first time in weeks, penne, pesto and chicken again and enjoyed it greatly. Even posted it on Facebook which some friends liked.
After dinner, as I wallowed in my blues and despair, I got a phone call from Bill. He was on the bus and asked if I needed anything from the store. I told him if he was going to the store sure, but no special trips for me.
He asked if I wanted a pizza and I said I just ate. It turned out that he ordered one already. It was funny since when I was growing up, on Sundays my family would have dinner at 2PM on a Sunday afternoon, then in the evening we’d have pizza, and I was thinking about that earlier in the day.
I told Bill, that I would more than likely find room for some pizza. And I certainly did when he came home and the delivery arrived shortly thereafter.
I took half a Xanax before Bill called and after that phone call, came the call from hell. Really. It was Harpy.
“Why do you always have penne, pesto and chicken? Why do you think you work in a target zone? LADY CAPS LOCK said you wrote ‘Fuck retail’ on your Linked In status. Why do you sound so bitter?”
Oh my gods. Here was one of the most bitter cantankerous people on the planet complaining about me being bitter. I couldn’t take it. Any good feeling I had from talking with Bill on the phone had dissipated listening to Harpy who didn’t even sound like he was half in the bag, not even two sheets to the wind.
I couldn’t take it and let him know. I usually just let him prattle on, but here was the second person in a few days not being very sympathetic when I really needed some sympathy. It was almost like my father used to say- ‘If you’re looking for sympathy, it’s in the dictionary next to syphilis.’
I got off the phone with Harpy after angrily telling him to go fuck himself. Then I went to Linked In and saw my status saying ‘Between jobs, between worlds’ something I wrote soon after I lost the last job. I couldn’t resist and called Harpy up saying that “LADY CAPS LOCK is a fucking idiot and so are you for believing her!”
Of course I don’t think they’re idiots, but I was hurt and felt kicked and picked on when I was really at a low point. The other half of Xanax was then inserted into my mouth. But it couldn’t act fast enough, since I watched Boardwalk Empire and could not get into it because of the anger I was feeling.
Totally forgot about Mad Men (perhaps too close to home since I was still quite mad) and we watched Freaks and Geeks. Bill was off to bed and I stayed up stewing until the other half a tab kicked in. I went to sleep, telling Bill in his sleep apnea mask that I loved him so much.
And I do.
He’s been there for me lately when it seems no one else is. And that is one aspect of love, that I love. My mantra is shot to hell by the way. Saying ‘at least you have a job’ really means nothing when death sometimes seems like the only viable option.
And no I wouldn’t do that. It’s a selfish act and I am not selfish. Nor would I hurt those people in my life that really and truly care for me. I’ll keep running for the shelter of mother’s little helper.
Today was a bit better. I woke up to find a message on my computer screen- “Happy 10th Anniversary Baby!! I love you very very much! Ya d’oh!” Yes, today is our 10th anniversary. I thought it was tomorrow, but tomorrow is the anniversary of my father’s death.
I sent Bill a message in return, “I love you, oh yes I do. From the morning to the evening, Oh I do, so love you. Happy 10TH Anniversary my Sweetheart. Ya big!”
I did see Stine with Alexander briefly. They were coming in as I was going out. He’s been playing ‘shy’ with just about everyone and he did it with me. I asked Alexander for a kiss and he turned his cheek to me. Stine says that he doesn’t kiss anyone lately, but will turn his face for a peck on the cheek. He’s so much like his father in that regard.
I ran some errands and cooked some eggs for breakfast and read the paper. Dropped off the Big Star compilation at the bibliothèque as well as Zombieland. I did pound the pavement in Hoboken. Went to CVS, Rite Aid, Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts, applying for work in each store. Of course, each store told me to go online and fill out the application.
I feel if I’m going to be miserable working retail, I might as well be miserable close to home. The 40k salary that I was pursuing is fading fast from view, so working for 8 or 9 dollars an hour seems the way to go.
And I did get a haircut today. My barber, Tony is still out with a broken arms and I had his replacement Dora cut my hair. She cut a mole on the back of my neck, didn’t trim my eyebrows, nose or ear hair nor did she try to cut the gray hairs out of my goatee.
She did find the time midway through cutting my hair to reply to a message on her blackberry. And it was about a 20 minute haircut, where Tony would have me in his chair for 45 minutes.
I won’t be seeing her again and intend to tell Tony’s son Nick about it. Guys on death row would probably avoid having their last hair cuts from her as well. She was horrible and I would have preferred getting my hair cut from Benjamin Barker.
I want to live with Bill, surrounded by Morning Glories.
Well I am writing this on a Sunday though I will post it for Saturday. Once again I woke up in a positive mood which was surprising. I said out loud, ‘positive positive positive’ with the hope that by saying that I would be able to maintain the mood throughout the day. It was a noble effort.
I showered and had some coffee and cereal and was getting ready when Bill walked through the door. I didn’t think I would see him until today (Sunday) but there he was with bagels in the bag. Unfortunately I didn’t have time for a bagel.
I headed out the door to the bus stop, stopping by the library dropping off some CD’s that I had taken out. I lit up a cigar that I started the night before and waited for the bus, staying far enough away from other people waiting for the bus, but still there was one woman who started fanning the imaginary smoke from her face.
I was about 30 feet away from her and it was breezy but all it takes is the power of suggestion. Seeing someone with a cigar immediately puts up the ‘I’m offended’ attitude. I didn’t care and she walked away, missing the bus that she was waiting for.
The bus ride was as usual, uneventful. A walk up the avenue to the store, avoiding the subway since it runs on quite an erratic schedule, stopping by the farmer’s market to buy some organic chocolate chip cookies. I usually share them with my co-workers, but I decided to be selfish.
I was working with Sean after all and Sean does as little as possible and therefore wouldn’t earn any cookies from me. Don Birch split as Soon as Sean came in. I did talk with Don Birch about My Friend, My Friend the other day and according to Don, whatever was said was squashed and forgotten.
Sean and his 20 year old thuggish indignation was the only one with a problem with it. A problem that was not his to begin with. It was just me and Sean and Sean almost immediately sat in the humidor not doing anything at all.
It promised to be a long day and it certainly was. Another day where I was being held prisoner against my will, not having the chance to leave for my lunch hour due to the horrid managerial ways of the cigar shop.
I had a late lunch and did smoke a cigar, talking to 2 customers who were rather intelligent, which is rare when compared to the usual carbon based life forms that frequent the shop. But my lunch ended, and it was back to standing behind the counter while Sean cleaned his fingernails with an exacto knife, when he wasn’t staring into space.
He’s trying to get a job at Coach and asked if he could put me down as a reference. I said sure, but if they call, I don’t what I would say. I could build him up and get him out of my life (I defriended him on Facebook as well), or I can tell the truth and say that he’s a do nothing, know nothing type and continue to have to deal with him.
One of Calvin’s friends came into the shop near closing, buying a few cigars. He almost bought some overpriced cufflinks, but was a bit shocked to find that the discount that Calvin arranged for him was only 10%.
He mentioned that he would have to have a talk with Calvin about that next time he sees Calvin. This scumbag has a ton of money, yet feels he is being slighted. What an asshole.
The store closed and Sean was on his way somewhere. I didn’t care enough to ask. I made it to the bus terminal listening to Public Enemy which was a mistake since I found it irritating rather than inspiring my swift pace. I did make it to the bus on time and sat near the front.
I was getting off the bus to go to Rand & Lisa’s for a cocktail party. I didn’t really want to go but since I said I would, I was committed.
As the bus approached my stop, I decided to roll a cigarette. A heavyset woman sitting diagonally immediately saw what I was doing and stared at me, wearing her Mickey and Minnie Mouse blouse. I stared right back at her, not breaking my gaze when she asked if I had a problem.
I said, that I didn’t have a problem and wondered why she was fascinated with what I was doing. She said I was staring at her first and that was a lie. I can always tell when someone is looking at me.
I said ‘Well Mickey, you seemed interested in what I was doing so I just decided to find something to look at around you.’ ‘I’m not Mickey.’ ‘OK Minnie Mouse, it’s the same thing.’ She muttered under her breath and I said ‘Yeah yeah yeah, you’re boring me.’ She pulled out her cellphone to call someone and I took her picture.
I walked over to Rand and Lisa’s after that where Lois and Fred were seated on the couch. I settled in and had a vodka tonic and wound up having a better time that I had anticipated. Good to have good friends around like that to take my mind off my problems.
Feeling good today, no hangover to speak of. About to go out for the papers at 1:30 in the afternoon. That’s about it. I was supposed to have dinner with Bill and his friend Theresa, but she backed out, so a Sunday in Hoboken and only Hoboken is good enough for me.
Man am I tired. It’s been a long day and the last two hours I was on my own. It was fairly busy too. Thanks to Calvin’s inept scheduling and Marcus refusing to get someone to help out for a few days until we get on our feet, it was a monstrous day.
Raymond would have worked with Don and myself today but since he was let go last Friday, it was down to Don and me.
I really don’t know how much longer I can take working at the cigar shop. I’m exhausted all the time, the hours suck, the pay sucks and trying to get 1/3 of 1% commission is ridiculous. And I don’t like who I am becoming.
I resent a lot of customers and hold a lot of people in contempt. I had some words with a customer about taxes. Some idiot saying that taxes were so high due to pension plans. I mentioned that taxes were needed to maintain roads and for education. He scoffed at that and I said in turn that I didn’t really give a shit if the roads fall apart since I don’t drive.
Even though I was unemployed and broke most of the time, I was happier then than I am now. Really, if any other job offer came through I would more than likely jump at it. I’d even work for the Susquehanna Investment Group if they would ask. I’d even hawk Sally Maurice’s Cafe Press items if there was an offer.
I’m miserable, Don Birch is miserable and even Sean is miserable and he’s 20 years old and knows nothing. And Marcus and Calvin, ineptly playing the role of management have not a clue.
My mind is so scrambled right now. When I was closing the shop, at 9:05 there was a knock on the door. Now I was instructed to never let anyone in the shop when it was closed and I don’t let anyone in the shop.
Many a time as I stand there counting money, some knucklehead pleads with me to let them in to buy a cigar. They tell me through the door they know what they want and it wouldn’t take a minute. But no. Once the store is closed it stays closed until I leave.
Tonight, I’m there counting money, about a thousand dollars in front of me. There’s a knock on the door. I look up.
It’s a woman. She says she’s a neighbor of the store. She’s smiling as she says it. I stand where I was and ask what can I do for her. She says she needs help. I ask why. What’s wrong? She says forget it and walks away.
I never saw her before and truth be told I don’t pay attention to most of the neighbors. Some neighbors I do know and speak with on occasion, but I never saw this one before. Perhaps she saw the money in front of me and wanted to get to know the cash better.
Anyway, she certainly didn’t look distressed. I didn’t pay it no mind and when she walked away, all I could do was laugh. When I left the store, I didn’t see her at all. There were a lot of police officers around since there was yet another bomb scare in the area and any one of them could have helped her if she needed assistance.
I also heard from Calvin who was calling in to see if everything was alright. He sounded a bit drunk. His drawl gets thicker when he drinks. He said that Marcus had gone by the shop and said it looked closed.
That was bullshit.
I was in a hurry answering the phone since I abandoned 3 customers in the humidor to answer his drunk dialing. I did try to call him back on my cellphone but he probably saw my area code and decided not to take the call. I didn’t leave a message.
Tomorrow it’s work again for me. I’m working with Sean. Don Birch is playing the Hebraic card once again and leaving as soon as I get in. So that means I have to do most of the work since Sean is usually staring into space or dealing with baby mama drama on the phone, or any of the other chicks that he’s currently trying to fuck.
Please, if there are any leads for work, preferably and 9 to 5 job, Monday through Friday I would appreciate hearing about it.
