Monthly Archives: November 2011

I Don’t Want Your Love

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Well it certainly has been a strange day. It started out with a very good night’s sleep, had two dreams which involved Pedro. Good dreams he was alright, it was like being back in the old days.

We seemed to be hanging out in River Edge where the old Disc-O-Mat was on Route 4. Also a fleeting dream featuring Takashi Moriuchi, a nice guy I used to work with bank in Wanker Banker days and the Takashi dream took place near Wright’s Village in Lodi or South Hackensack.

Bill was up and out and I was sleeping so well I barely noticed. After a five day shift of 10 hour days, having at least one day off was quite nice. It was not so bad getting up this morning and I slept a few minutes later than I usually do. I got myself together and headed out to the bus stop.

Pedro did phone me but that was because I texted him before I headed out. We have a great bond, the two of us. Truly one of my dearest friends.

Right now in the cigar the usual crap holiday songs are on repeat, and it adds to the hellish situation.And in the cigar shack, things have taken a turn for the worse. The neighbors a really big bank, started complaining about the smell of cigars and they’ve been doing that since way before I started working here.

There was an agreement to talk to us before going to the landlord, but tha has fallen by the wayside and now lawyers are involved. So at 12:30 the man cave was shut down, costing us quite a bit of business since it’s too cold to go outside and smoke (though I did just that at lunch time).

Certain trolls won’t be around so that’s not so bad but this is a crippling blow to the store on the brink of the holiday saeason which is beaucoup bucks for most retailers. A lot of regulars came in looking forward to a smoke and a smile and they left crestfallen. Even Jimmy Seltzer who is driving with his wife to Nashville for the holiday was dismayed.

What can you do? Now the lawyers are involved. The cigar shack lawyers, the big bank laywers and the landlord’s lawyers. I am a Cassandra in this, meaning I knew this was going to happen and even told Calvin that back in January. Our days may be numbered oddly enough and even then who knows?

I am sick of Christmas and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. These horrible New Orleans Dixieland songs probably picked by Wynton Marsalis are terrible. Perhaps once in a while they would be fine, but this loop that is playing is wearing me down. This is more than likely a violation of the Geneva convention.

Now I am home and surprisingly met Bill while on line for the bus. A nice ride home with the man I love. And now we are home watching part two of the American Masters series, this time all about Woody Allen. Quite insightful and worth watching.








08 Hey, Snow White

I Don’t Want You Now

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Yesterday was day five, ten hour shifts and I was toast before I even headed in. I saw Bill only for about five minutes before I headed out the door and I was so stressed. Near the cigar shack the same six holiday songs, done in a New Orleans Dixieland style are played loudly and endlessly on a loop, as if it was the sounds of the holiday signaling the oncoming apocalypse.

Ahead of me lay a long day, a Saturday with a staph meeting at the end. I was not sure about what the staph meeting would entail or the length. Last time there was pizza and beer as well as a free cigar of our choice and if that was to be the case then it was probably going to be a long dazed journey into night.

As per usual I took the bus into the city and walked up the avenue, getting my egg sandwich and arriving at the cigar shack earlier than I needed to. Zack was opening so that meant I would have to enjoy my sandwich standing up in the pantry next to the garbage can instead of being able to sit in the office before signing in for the day.

Thomas and Frank Burns were in, with Jerry Vale expected later in the day after he gets out of his other job. I was alright thanks to a Xanax, but still could sense despair on the edges of my outlook. The ritual 3:00 phone call with my sister had her alarmed by my bleak vision.

In hindsight it was probably the darkest part of the day for me, more than likely from not having eaten lunch yet. After a burger deluxe and a chocolate shake I did call her back to let her know that I was feeling better. If I don’t eat, I crash- mentally, physically and spiritually. The day went on as it was supposed to, ending with Thomas and myself nabbing the top two spots in sales respectively.

Still the staph meeting was scheduled and neither Thomas or myself knew what was in store. Were we going to be chewed out? Was Frank Burns going to be the anointed assistant manager? It turned out to be quite a mild meeting, Zack reading aloud from notes, as the rest of us dutifully followed.

Questions were asked and answered and the whole thing was over and we were out of the shack by 10:30, leaving Zack to finish his cigar alone. I lucked out, getting on the subway platform just as an express train was heading downtown.

I was wary about a long line and wait like last Saturday but there was no need. Things were going as they should, the Path was running so there wasn’t hundreds of other people waiting for the Hoboken bus. I was home by 11:00 and watched Saturday Night Live before heading to bed.

Bill phoned from Atlantic City, lovingly concerned about my wellbeing. I reassured him that I was home and doing alright.




If 6 was 9