2003-06-17 - 4:49 p.m.
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This is by far the longest entry ever.
Been typing on the Downtown Lowell bulletin board at downtown.newblack.org so much that I've lost my usual stomping grounds for rantin, namely here.
And boy do I have a rant.
Yesterday, I went into NYC for a job dry run. This is basically a chance to see the job in it's natural habitat without actually doing the job. So basically, I'm stalking this one worker guy from the company on purpose, with consent from the company. But he knows it. Whatever, that's a terrible explination but basically I had to follow this guy around.
Oh yeah, the place is called Adforce America. They make these deals with businesses to hock their goods for a deal. And then get paid for it.
So I get there early and all, pretty psyched that I am doing this because basically, if this goes right and all, I could walk away with a job and start my jobby job. And that's totally kick ass. And I buzz in to get let in and they told me to come back at the time they told me, which was like 10-15 minutes later. That's not that big a difference but whatever. So I sit down on a bench and I bum a cigarette. this guy is playing with his PDA next to me...
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Which I got one of thanks to Erin. She didn't go out and get me one or anything, she just had one she didn't use and she gave it to me so that's it. I honestly don't care much for PDA's but I have noticed a huge loss of organization on my part with plans I have. Maybe it's residual from college, the last of the brain cells dying from resin and gin but I have been atrocious about appointments and plans so now I don't have to be. Plus, it's got arkanoid and snood on it so it's like a gameboy more than a PDA. I spent like 3 hours playing this submarine game on it the other day riding around in the car. It's great. I just hate the weight of it in my pocket and it makes me feel like a yuppie scumbag. That will fade away when I get to everything on time because a piece of plastic and wires in my pocket won't shut up about "Must eat taco in fridge @ 3:00 PM"
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And he starts doing hte cough thing and looking at you and coughing and I look right back at him and tell him "Wow, is this a no smoking bench? Oh apparently it's not. Is your name "Stainless Steel"? I guess this bench isn't yours then. So fuck off". I think he put that in his PDA. I hope so.
Before I continue, let me just comment on how Nazi-ish people are on smoking. I hate smoke and the smell of smoke and all that but I smoke. The getting rid of smoking in bars just leads to people standing outside of bars and smoking. This doesn't decrease the amount of smoking nor does it decrease the amount of smokers at bars. All it does is make people addicted to a piece of shit drug stand in front of the bar instead of in it. Bartenders must love this because there's no more ashtrays to clean up. But guess what. Now you have to clean up the sidewalk in front of the bar and thats a lot more work than emptying ashtrays. They slowly took it away, from making smoking sections, to making some bars non-smoking bars to eventually passing legislation to get rid of it. All it does is make people pissed at you and not only that, some bars who do allow smoking becasue they don't believe in some idiotic NYC Mayor trying to live up to Giuliani somehow but failing miserably will lose customers. That's business, I admit it, but it's a GODDAMN BAR! You're not going to a family restuarant, you're not going to fucking Chuck E. Cheese's place. I've been thrown up on in a bar, I've seen people fucking in a bar, I've seen fights in a bar, I've seen tons of filth and digustingness - some of the most disgusting shit I've ever seen - all in bars. to get rid of smoking just makes it easier to breath. It does not clean the filthiness that is a bar. If you wanted somewhere clean to go to get drunk and later on go down on someone or get fucked from behind in a car in teh parking lot, go fuck behind a TGI Fridays. I hear the one in Rockville Center by me is easy pickins. And for the last time, second hand smoke? Go fuck yoruself. That 5th gin and tonic you put back isn't tickling your liver. If you want to talk healthy, at least play by the same rules.
So back to the shit job. I try to ignore the prick trying to bend my will and make me put out the only thing preventing me from ripping his eyelids off and slowly lowering the glowing red cherry into them, my CD walkman dies out on me, so I have no musical help to calm me down or anything. Which sucks.
I go back to the door and they let me in with a couple of people.
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This guy who rang the bell for me and this girl later on was this guy who left with me to go out into the field because the girl he got partnered with was teaming up with the guy I got partnered up with. He bought a energy drink from the GNC next door to the place, which he explained later on during the subway ride was the equivalent of liquid speed. His eyes remained wide open as open as could possibly be and when he spoke, he put his hands up and shook them violently. He sweat way too much and kind of scared me a little, not in that "OH NO I'm GOING TO DIE!" kind of scared, so much as in the "OH NO THIS GUY IS GOING TO DIE" kind of scared. He definitely got the job but I don't care, because you'll see why
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We go up in the sketchiest elevator ever invented. When I get up there, I ended up having to sit by myself across the room from everyone because the couch was taken up and the seat next to it was taken up and well, thats all that was left. So we all get assigned to these buisness reps and go out into the field. I had no idea I had to have train fare for the subway so I had to call home for money
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This is fast to have another aside and maybe I could have planned this better, but it's important. I ended up spendint almost 40 bucks yesterday. I have no money at all. To spend 40 bucks is like taking away all forms of fun for a week. That's like trading in hanging out with everyone for a week to go to the city. Ok, continue...
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So I get to meet these people. Buggy Speedhead I knew from the door. The girl, Danielle, was a little further on than the guy I was given. She seemed real nice and smart. She was very strong, constantly running the day.
Let me tell you about Zorick. Zorick is a Russian Jew who was an IT Major from Albany. He was in a frat and he smokes like a fire. He listens to harcore rap but has a affinity towards the Vengaboys. He dresses only in Diesel wear, unless it's some other ritzy clothing brand like FCUK (That's French Connection UK, you degenerate). He wears his hair short and spiky, speaks fast, listens little and lies like a politician. He can't wait to tell you how good he is at what he does, or how easy it is. He can't wait to tell you what a deal he has for you. Basically, he is the exact opposite of me.
So we ride the subway on the Q diamond line for all eternity, going through every single stop (although the diamond is an express, it didn't feel very express) all the way till Brooklyn, where Danielle's car was.
Oh yeah, Buggy McSpeedface's name is really John. I think Buggy McSPeedface is better though.
So me and Buggy hop in the car with Zorick (or Eric, the name he told people later) and Danielle. They end up going to Westbury, which is close to me and at one point, drives right past my town basically. So I went to the city to get driven back to Long Island basically. Perfect. At this point, I've asked them both about 80 questions and they were starting to get annoyed and were like "wait till we get there and then ask questions" but I was told that if I didnt like it, I could leave at any time and just go home and not take this job. So I wanted to figure out what the job was all about before my entire day was wasted.
I should have jumped out of the car while it was going past the Rockville Center exit on the Southern State.
WE get to Briarclif college, taking a completely out of the way route to get there that I didn't want to tell them was that way since they didn't want to help me out with answers, complete with getting stuck behind 2 garbage trucks for a good 15 minutes, which filled the car with the nasiest smell of funky crotch that has been shit and puked into and then dipped in sulfur and garlic. Fabulous. We get out of the car and go inside and I'm like "ok time to go talk to someone or something" I didn't know what was going on or what we were going to do.
The following paragraphs or so is not fabricated or exaggerated. It is as truthful as I could remember and honestly, why would I even make this up?
The true face of the job was shown to me when we walked into the door of the classroom. I didn't know what he was doing. I thought he was lost or was looking for a department head. He started out by asking for a moment of the classes time from the principal, telling him we were from a Student Activities group. That's a lie. We are from an ad agency who worked out a deal for 6 dollar tickets with a cruise ship....
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6 dollars plus a 26 dollar boarding fee. That fact was very greatly misunderstood
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He starts his little dance, a speech he's heard his mouth say a hundred thousand times before. He's cracking jokes "those over 21 get top shelf liquor, those under 21 get apple juice and choclate milk
"So do you go to this school?" I turn and the teacher is looking at me with a smile, half impressed with what he's heard, a quarter impressed with the reaction to it and maybe a quarter intrigued as to just how this could be. And rightly so. We're swindling his intellectual flock. These minds have already paid to come here, to learn what they want from the 3 or whatever credits that they have shown up for. Their time has already cost them enough, and now this. "Yes" I tell him and I can feel the filth stick to me like static cling, clutching my leg like a dog humping it. I get really nervous, because I know I don't want to lie to this guy, he'll probably buy one and if I tell him the truth, we'll get kicked out and this guy won't make his quota for the day. At this point in time, I was actually pitying this guy. Not the teacher, the shifty green-eyed devil slinking his way across the floor with a hand full of tickets that will get these people nothing but more expenditures and a 5 hour ride around Manhattan, a sight that's not really worth it's admission. If you have been to the city going over a bridge, you've seen everything you'll see on the boat, just not from the water. He (the teacher) keeps poking and prodding, keeps searching the wall I've put up for cracks and crevices. He's eyeing me over and asking questions as I get more and more nervous. I'm going to blow this. It's my first chance, my first time, the virginal run of this psuedosexual adventure. 'I'm taking what I want from you and you're going to lay there and take it.' I tell the snake that I'm going to the bathroom, a lie the liar knows is a lie. We pissed right before we went into this class after a 45 minute car ride. He gives me eyes like whatever and I escape for now.
I do a dry run of my own, not a trial of the job, but since there's a window to the hallway for the classroom, I go down the hall, walk to the bathroom door and count the letters in the sign that tells what's what in the hallway in front of me. A few people wander around the hallway, unaware I have come to take their money. Unaware I'm training to be a devil. I start my way back after I have "pissed". I give a glance down a hallway and see Danielle and her little hellhound getting yelled at by a woman who was in our classroom. In our sucker pit. She's going to blow this wide open. We're trespassing, soliciting, impersonating someone. We're breaking them on all counts. It's not murder, but it's the death of decency. We're slime for even walking in the door thinking of what we just did. I get back to the pit and there's suckers braying and grunting into their cell phones, digitally transmitting our disease, this infection running rampant like an airbourne plague. The entire place seems to buzz and hum to us, seems to be electrified by our very being. I have no idea but the snake has slithered through 50 or so pockets at this point, plucking the bills like flowers in a meadow. He's raking it in. The woman, who has now smelled the bullshit we have fed her, is angry. She is not angry because we are doing something terrible and we lied to many to take their money. She is upset because we are doing something without asking permission. She seems more upset that we are here without asking. I can't believe it. She hits me up harder than the teacher did. She not only goes to school here, but she also works at Briarcliff too and doesn't recognize us. "Who are you assocated with?" She doesn't believe me when I tell her I'm a student and the kids outside start to get this pissed off look, the sour face made by betrayal. All of these people wish me harm; the horns that have begun to grow from my head have given me away. I have to think fast so I tell her that she'll have to talk to the guy in there
He leaves the pit, wiping the blood from the slaughter from his mouth. He's had his fill for now and he recognizes we're in trouble. "Where are you from? You're not from this school," the little do-gooder asks him. She's on a crusade. He continues on with the wall of lies, blocking her out from the truth. She takes us to the real Student Activities, the name we've stolen. The lady in the Student Activities room doesn't need this other lady to tell her what she's doing here. She thinks she knows what's going on. "Eric, I told you you have to leave. You've already been kicked out of here."
"But Patchogue told us we can come here." Another lie from the mouth of lies. Patchogue has no idea we even exist. I didn't even know Patchogue Briarcliff existed. I'm learning the tricks of the trade. This is the job I have been sent to see. These are the lies I've been sent to learn. This is the American Dream, a good honest job.
The lady from the class walks away, the triumphant lapdog trots back to the class it tried to protect. Like defending a nest while it's eaten whole behind you.
We leave, but not before we run into a few of the suckers who strayed away from the class to get money from an ATM by the door we were leaving from. He hits them up harder than I've ever seen someone scam someone before. One kid throws him $100 dollars because his friends will want these and he can probably sell them for $10 a pop... the greed is passed down like baldness and hair color. He wants a better deal, one swindler trying to swindle another. The kid gets a deal, outswindling the snake a little, but the kid wants a bigger cut. They trade numbers and we get picked up by Danielle and her lackey, who were unable to invade anyone because our invasion was too massive and blew our cover. As we drive away, he waves the money around himself in a frenzy, spouting numbers. "I sold 5.6 in one room! That's like anybody's wet dream right there," the words directly fro his mouth. He is getting sexually aroused from these suckers.
We start to get on our way to the next pit and his phone rings. That kid called him back, so he turns around and parks right in front of the buidling he was just kicked out of. The people are standing in a semi-crowd, waiting and ready to shower this snake with money. With more money. The security guard buzzes around the crowd like an insect, poking his head in small gaps in arms and heads. He knows this isn't right. He has been warned by the Student Activities lady and he is completely aware that we are devils. But despite this guard, he sells. He sells and sells, without pause, without flinching, without trying, without adversity. He isn't even challenged by the guard, much like the lady who waited until after he was done to bust him. The suckers get eaten alive and it isn't until it's all over and done with that anyone does anything about it - after all the money is gone. The suckers get taken and the takers get suckers. Tons of them.
"Excuse me." The guard comes up after the crowd has died. Danielle has been trying to get him in the car a couple suckers back. Now she really needs him to listen. He doesn't.
The guard tells him he knows whats going on. He tells him the Patchogue lie, but unlike some simpleton behind a Student Activities, he knows better. We're moving up the ladder, people who see through even more and more of the asinine bullshit coming out of his mouth. He's bullshitting about things he has no idea about anything involved with what he's saying. It's just diahrrea at this point; it's dribbling all over his Diesel shirt.
After that part of the day is done, I start to feel like we're doing something wrong here. I mean, a few lies back I got the feeling, when we walked into the classroom I got the feeling, when I got on the subway and figured they wouldn't tell me what we were doing I got the feeling. But after seeing it in action, this fleecing, I was set. I can't do this and I don't want to do this and I will never do this.
EVer.
So they get lost again and I could help again, but this time it makes them an hour late. I have saved many wallets. I have saved something. Maybe decency. The rest of the day, I throw what I've seen around in my head, throw around the images of all those hands up. Just like a one-armed robbery. Put your hands up and put your money in the bag.
They drop me off at the Q stop and I go back to NYC. I run, no looking back. There's no looking back at this point. What's the use? I've worked enough days for the devil to do me good, which is really only half, and that was all I need. I go and get a gyro, get some buffalo wings, get a train, get a beer and get on with life, knowing full well I had made the right decision.
And that was what happened yesterday.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
