I mentioned that I have a job interview on Monday.
Just threw it out there, didn't get into any details.
I was coy. It was a tease. Why do I do that? I don't know.
Actually I was trying to make the contrast between feeling depressed and having hope. Or trying to figure out how I could be depressed when I should be buoyant with hope.
Here are the details. I am interviewing for a part time job as a box office dude at the Capitol Center. It pays a couple of bucks more an hour than I am making now. And I won't have to move any fucking furniture.
I can't believe how much furniture I have to move at the thrift shop. The store sells a lot of it. And 99% of the fucking time the customer shows up to pick up the furniture ALONE. No fucking help. No fucking friends. Often driving a fucking smart car that they expect to squeeze a full size dresser into.
And they ask in a whiny little voice "Can anybody help me?"
And 99% of the time I am the only man in the store. Sometimes the only human in the store.
Cannot tell you how many couches and dressers and tables I have stood up on a two wheeler and wrestled out of the store while the fucking customer stood by and watched.
I am too fucking old for that.
I am excited about the Capitol Center opportunity and I am not.
Excited because, although it is essentially still retail, I gotta believe selling tickets is a lot different than stuffing women's clothes into plastic bags. And then pulling them all out again to satisfy the customer that I only charged her $1 for that "cute little skirt".
Excited because I will be sitting down a lot. Being on my feet and carrying heavy things is killing me. Excited because selling tickets will occupy only part of my time. So I will be doing other things.
Excited because - and this is the kicker - I will be working in a creative environment. Surrounded by performers, artists, musicians. Hopefully getting a chance to meet them. This type of environment is perfectly in line with who I am; in sync with my soul.
My dream is that Buddy Guy will walk in before his performance and say "Hi, box office dude - can you sing?" After I prove it he says "Quit your job right now. You are going out on tour with me".
Not so excited because the job requires working on weekends, nights and holidays. This is a radical shift in thinking for me. My goal upon semi-retirement was to work no weekends, no nights, no holidays.
But what the fuck - is it not a good thing to shake things up? To make a radical change in thinking, in schedule, in routine?
I have no fucking clue. None.
My goal was also to work a nothing job. No responsibility. No pressure. No decision making.
That job does not exist. Although I am a low paid grunt at the thrift shop I essentially manage the store in the afternoon. And close. And prepare the bank deposit.
So I am telling myself that working in a creative environment will make up for the weekends, holidays and nights.
However, I told myself that working for a charitable organization like FIT would make up for the fact that I am still a retail whore.
It did not. I hate the fucking job.
And therein lies the dilemma. I have no track record of making good decisions when it comes to employment. So I don't trust myself.
The only job I could ever have that I know would make me happy would be earning a living as a full time writer.
Since I now give myself a 1 millionth of a per cent chance of ever earning decent money with the written word, I have to settle for taking chances.
Hence, box office dude at the Capitol Center.
I'll see how it goes. If I get the job, I pray that working in that very cool place in that very cool environment will make up for any sacrifices I have to make.
If not, my next job opportunity dream is digging graves.
I get along well with the dead.