Wednesday morning I awoke at 12:30 AM and I couldn't go back to sleep. I overheard Sarah remark that my job application had been tossed because they just couldn't understand why.
Let me explain. I applied for a weekend job at the local 'indie' movie theater, the same that Sarah works at. I applied for a job there even though I already have a job. Even though I make enough money to live comfortably. I do not want more money. I applied even though I am not a moviegoer. I prefer to read or to putter about online. I applied for what must look like no reason at all.
I applied simply because I am bored on the weekends and I would rather be around people that I like. And everyone I like works on the weekends.
While I do work weekends to break up the cloudy Sunday monotony I have to admit that I don't truly like anyone that I work with. There are a few good people and no one coworker's faults are so bad that I cannot tolerate them but I do not seek to spend time with any of them.
I have been applying to many jobs lately. All of my applications have been rejected.
I have talked with many of Sarah's coworkers, not about this but we have talked and I am willing to make an inductive jump. I believe that they have correctly intuited the sad fact that I was aware of but reluctant to consider. That in such a position I would be a tourist. And everyone hates a tourist.
Work in the French Quarter and you develop an iron sense of who is and who isn't a tourist. Usually this is easy, just look for people wearing beads, but there are some that go to great lengths to appear as part of the local firmament, that they are one of the cool kids at the back of the bus, all 'trust me I live here' and 'can you believe the behavior of some of these people'? These frauds are exposed with incredible speed and remarkable perception.
To know who is a tourist, who is a visitor, you must know what your home is. Their home is not just New Orleans. It is also the service industry, small paychecks and scrimping for rent and coming in stoned. My home is a sparse beige cube with coffee stains and an ample supply of Post-It notes. I would be visiting them every weekend but like a tourist I could go home any time I wanted and not come back, once boredom and frustration with dirty patrons and balky popcorn kettles set in. And they would still be there, the locals, left to mop up the mess every day, it wouldn't be truly mine, the lives they lead.
And how would you deal with that? Jealousy and resentment work against the faceless masses but against a friendly fool like myself the matter gets more complex and some would rather avoid it. Segregate by class, north and south of forty thousand a year split up like girls and boys at an elementary school dance, and be done with it, I suppose.
'By class'. As if I am any better than them. It's just a fucking paycheck please don't make it out to be anything else but I guess that it actually is, is something else, makes me someone else.
Regardless of the truth it is unfair to go where I am not wanted. I could try and convince people of the truth as I see it but there is simply no reason for it. Put this dream up on blocks, let weeds grow around it. Promise yourself that youll get around to fixing it up.
Sisco came over at 1:30 AM. He was hired at another high-class restaurant, a higher position, better pay and a greater measure of creative control. But no one would add to their staff during Mardi Gras. So he has the next week off and is celebrating it in style. 12 of his friends arrive over the weekend. But for now he gets drunk with us.
We tried playing dominoes but then someone decided that the dominoes didnt look good just laying there on the table, they would look better embedded in someones forehead, and a domino fight took up the next twenty minutes, culminating in a wrestling match between a very drunk Sarah and a very drunk Sisco. Which is a bad thing considering their history but they are both adults.
3:30 AM was breakfast at Angeli. 4:30 AM was ironing the shirt. 5:30 AM was in at work.
Work. Reorder tab functionality. Determine data import failure. Drink coffee and chicory, slowly. Reimport data. Try, try again. Move two fields, adjust all addresses to current US Post Office standards. Break for lunch. Chinese buffet, good crab, good noodles, bad sushi. Normalize zip codes. Denormalize data. Yes, I know my tie is wrinkled. I like the texture. Its crinkly. Add user-friendly features, dont tell boss that Im still adding functionality. Meet the client and install the latest applications and relevant databases. Work. Work. 5:00 PM, go home, do not pass go, do not collect $200, it is not yet payday.
Due to inclement weather the Krewe of Muses will roll tomorrow and the Krewe of Saturn will have to wait until next year. As a result the traffic clusterfuck caused by large parade floats chugging down Uptown New Orleans largest thoroughfares was avoided and I could make it home. Breather. Sit, think, and dance a bit as Sarah has left the Avalanches in the stereo.
7:00 WTUL deejay meeting. 7:45 home, grab people, toss them in the car. 8:10 House of Blues, Interpol and the Raveonettes. Likely continue on until 12:30.
Home, sleep, 1:00 AM. Total time spent awake : 24:30, if the schedule above is accurate.
I keep a running tally of the amount of sleep I have received over the past 10 days. Right now I am at 48 hours. Average at just under 5 hours a night. Drink coffee. Savor coffee and go. The only way through is with chemicals, but legal. Sorry, T.S., I dont know who is the third who always walks beside me, but Ive a feeling he may look like Juan Valdez.
Let me explain. I applied for a weekend job at the local 'indie' movie theater, the same that Sarah works at. I applied for a job there even though I already have a job. Even though I make enough money to live comfortably. I do not want more money. I applied even though I am not a moviegoer. I prefer to read or to putter about online. I applied for what must look like no reason at all.
I applied simply because I am bored on the weekends and I would rather be around people that I like. And everyone I like works on the weekends.
While I do work weekends to break up the cloudy Sunday monotony I have to admit that I don't truly like anyone that I work with. There are a few good people and no one coworker's faults are so bad that I cannot tolerate them but I do not seek to spend time with any of them.
I have been applying to many jobs lately. All of my applications have been rejected.
I have talked with many of Sarah's coworkers, not about this but we have talked and I am willing to make an inductive jump. I believe that they have correctly intuited the sad fact that I was aware of but reluctant to consider. That in such a position I would be a tourist. And everyone hates a tourist.
Work in the French Quarter and you develop an iron sense of who is and who isn't a tourist. Usually this is easy, just look for people wearing beads, but there are some that go to great lengths to appear as part of the local firmament, that they are one of the cool kids at the back of the bus, all 'trust me I live here' and 'can you believe the behavior of some of these people'? These frauds are exposed with incredible speed and remarkable perception.
To know who is a tourist, who is a visitor, you must know what your home is. Their home is not just New Orleans. It is also the service industry, small paychecks and scrimping for rent and coming in stoned. My home is a sparse beige cube with coffee stains and an ample supply of Post-It notes. I would be visiting them every weekend but like a tourist I could go home any time I wanted and not come back, once boredom and frustration with dirty patrons and balky popcorn kettles set in. And they would still be there, the locals, left to mop up the mess every day, it wouldn't be truly mine, the lives they lead.
And how would you deal with that? Jealousy and resentment work against the faceless masses but against a friendly fool like myself the matter gets more complex and some would rather avoid it. Segregate by class, north and south of forty thousand a year split up like girls and boys at an elementary school dance, and be done with it, I suppose.
'By class'. As if I am any better than them. It's just a fucking paycheck please don't make it out to be anything else but I guess that it actually is, is something else, makes me someone else.
Regardless of the truth it is unfair to go where I am not wanted. I could try and convince people of the truth as I see it but there is simply no reason for it. Put this dream up on blocks, let weeds grow around it. Promise yourself that youll get around to fixing it up.
Sisco came over at 1:30 AM. He was hired at another high-class restaurant, a higher position, better pay and a greater measure of creative control. But no one would add to their staff during Mardi Gras. So he has the next week off and is celebrating it in style. 12 of his friends arrive over the weekend. But for now he gets drunk with us.
We tried playing dominoes but then someone decided that the dominoes didnt look good just laying there on the table, they would look better embedded in someones forehead, and a domino fight took up the next twenty minutes, culminating in a wrestling match between a very drunk Sarah and a very drunk Sisco. Which is a bad thing considering their history but they are both adults.
3:30 AM was breakfast at Angeli. 4:30 AM was ironing the shirt. 5:30 AM was in at work.
Work. Reorder tab functionality. Determine data import failure. Drink coffee and chicory, slowly. Reimport data. Try, try again. Move two fields, adjust all addresses to current US Post Office standards. Break for lunch. Chinese buffet, good crab, good noodles, bad sushi. Normalize zip codes. Denormalize data. Yes, I know my tie is wrinkled. I like the texture. Its crinkly. Add user-friendly features, dont tell boss that Im still adding functionality. Meet the client and install the latest applications and relevant databases. Work. Work. 5:00 PM, go home, do not pass go, do not collect $200, it is not yet payday.
Due to inclement weather the Krewe of Muses will roll tomorrow and the Krewe of Saturn will have to wait until next year. As a result the traffic clusterfuck caused by large parade floats chugging down Uptown New Orleans largest thoroughfares was avoided and I could make it home. Breather. Sit, think, and dance a bit as Sarah has left the Avalanches in the stereo.
7:00 WTUL deejay meeting. 7:45 home, grab people, toss them in the car. 8:10 House of Blues, Interpol and the Raveonettes. Likely continue on until 12:30.
Home, sleep, 1:00 AM. Total time spent awake : 24:30, if the schedule above is accurate.
I keep a running tally of the amount of sleep I have received over the past 10 days. Right now I am at 48 hours. Average at just under 5 hours a night. Drink coffee. Savor coffee and go. The only way through is with chemicals, but legal. Sorry, T.S., I dont know who is the third who always walks beside me, but Ive a feeling he may look like Juan Valdez.