Yeah, baby I got the gig. Me and the band are playing The Royal Albert Hall on Saturday, June 10 at 8:00 p.m. Buy your tickets now because they will sell out fast.
Wait a minute - that is not what I meant to say at all. I get so confused sometimes between my fantasy life and my "real" life. Actually I don't even know what my real life is. Is my real life the one I am living or the one I am not living but wish I was? Shit, kids it is getting deep in here.
In two weeks or shortly thereafter I will be a part time box office dude at the Capitol Center for The Performing Arts.
Sounds pretty cool, don't you think? Maybe not the box office part but at least the association with a giant creative force in the wintry state of New Hampshire.
So here I go again. Another change of direction in my life; another perspective, another opportunity.
This one feels different.
I grabbed the thrift store gig because it came along. Simple as that. As I might grab a $100 bill blowing past me on a summer breeze. It was just that reflexive.
I was riding the high of semi-retirement and feeling pretty positive. Didn't matter what the hell I did for employment.
Turned out to be a major disaster because it ended up being more of the same. One more fucking job I grew to hate. Reduced to being a retail whore once again subject to the whims of people who argue over a 50 cent difference in price on a fucking skirt. Humping large pieces of furniture into and out of the building like an underpaid mule.
I have been insane over the last couple of months because I was entirely burned out and feeling trapped. Ain't nobody hiring a 63 year old, tired, fat man. Why would they? Shit, I wouldn't - I would just shoot me and put me out of my misery if I applied for a job from me.
And now this. It feels different to me, and hopefully not just because I want it to feel different. As I have said before I do not trust myself in matters of employment. I have spent a lifetime lying to myself and everybody around me about the "wonderful" new opportunity I was about to enjoy. Lies that devolved into black and bitter hatred of the new opportunity.
And of course I am romanticizing this new job a bit. No apologies there - I am a romantic. I am a dreamer.
Pragmatically I realize the job is not glamorous. For all I know they are going to chain me to a chair in an airless, windowless room and force me to hand write concert tickets, beating me with guitar strings if my pace is slow.
I will still be dealing with the public and there will still be assholes. There are always assholes. Still, I see the job as different than a typical retail job. I am not stuffing things into bags, I am not standing at a cash register, and there will be other responsibilities besides ticket sales (hopefully not bathroom cleaning).
I have to believe the people I deal with for the most part will be enthusiastic and in good moods; after all they are going out to a show. I also believe that relative to shows that are in my wheelhouse I will be engaged in enjoyable and passionate conversations with the customers.
Christ, I hope I work the George Thorogood show.
And maybe, just maybe I will get to meet some of the performers. I am also assuming/hoping that my fellow employees are people who share enthusiasm for the performing arts. So conversation should be interesting.
And of course there is the exceptional benefit of being able to take in shows after the box office duties are met.
So here I go. Feels like another chance. I blew the whole retirement thing first time around. Did not accomplish much, if anything; ended up with yet another dead end job that strangled my soul right up to the brink of extinction.
The time of year is right. Hope and enthusiasm are high, the weather is getting warmer and I feel like I am coming into myself.
I feel good.
I have said things like this many times in my life; many, many times. And been proved wrong.
I need this one; I want this one.
My soul must be revived if I am ever to realize my own truth.