So Jon The
Trumpeter decided he couldn't take care of a puppy and
sold little Walter (who I never even had a chance
to introduce to you guys -- trust me, it would've
broken your heart) to a loving home. Then he erased
all the "I GOT A NEW PUPPY!"
statuses and pictures on his facebook. He was
understandably embarrassed and was like, "let's just
pretend that didn't happen."
I chuckled a bit
to myself because, as you all know, it is the
antithesis of how I operate. I tend to go out of
my way to show the egg on my face and most certainly
never erase things. I highlight them and make
full length features out of them. Mistakes are the
essence of who you are. And in a respect? Getting that
puppy before he fully understood what it meant, was
the essence of who he was. To me? Sharing that
with others is how you grow. In my experience, if you
hide it... it's just a matter of time before you go
down that path again. But again, and I really do
mean this, TO ME that is true. I'm clearly
over-analyzing a situation (for the purposes of my own
story in this entry) and I've found that for several
people? They absolutely SHOULD erase some shit.
They should put some things away forever and never
touch them again because they cannot deal with
the process of processing. That process breaks them
down to a ball of insecurities that keeps them from
even functioning. I watched that first hand a few
years back with Donna and I still feel the pangs of
guilt for being the catalyst for her opening up her
past. She could not face it.
Thankfully, my
whole life (and this project) is facing my issues in
public and learning from them. It's why I can
whistle while I wash dishes at a diner for some
extra bucks. It's a pretty interesting story that is
full of things most people would hide. So let's jump
right in. :-)
So I was
having breakfast at my favorite diner, The Hungry Fox,
near my house in the valley. The Thai waitresses make
this place (Suzy is there during the week, see her and
say Hi), and it's standard fare diner food (with
incredible homemade jams for your toast). I noticed a
"Help Wanted" sign and asked Suzy about it. They
needed someone for only one day a week, Monday, and
I thought... ya know what? That would be a cool
thing to do one day a week. I dig the pace of serving
at a restaurant, grew up with restaurants my entire
life (Greek family, duh) and there's something about a
REAL hard-working, low-paying job that makes
you INCREDIBLY hungry for career stuff. Every
"shit" job has simmered for about 6 months before
I lose my mind and somehow make shit happen (CBS,
Comedy Central all came while I was at those type
of jobs). I also like Suzy and would enjoy
running around with her while hustlin' food and
talking to people.... so I asked her who
I should talk to.
She looked at me
like I was insane.
"It's $8 an
hour, you don't want this job."
"That's more
than I made last Monday, why not."
Finally by the end
of the meal she realized I was serious, and gave
me the owner's phone number. I called, and he
told me to come in the following Monday (yesterday)
and I did.
It was for a
dishwashing position. For fuck's sake. I thought
it was for serving, and the owner and Suzy kinda
giggled because they knew there was no way I was
doing that. I would probably be the only non-mexican
dishwasher in the entire state. Except...
I wanted to do it. I don't care, I need to
make a few bucks, I'm not afraid of hardwork - and
it's only ONE DAY A WEEK. You know?
Like, every workday is a Friday when you work one day
a week. I am not above washing dishes all day for
$60. So I told them I'd take it. And truthfully?
They were kinda fucked at that moment. Already 2 hours
behind on dishes and at 9am, people were streaming in.
Then lunch? Whew. The owner still looked at me like
I was insane, "Are you sure you want to do
this?", and I threw on an apron and was ready to
go.
(btw, did
you know "apron" used to actually be a "napron",
but it was misspoken so often it became an "apron"
by moving the "n" to the "a"? Yup, that's why you
read The Journey)
So I get going and
start the routine. Truth be told? I kind of love
this type of work and would honestly do it for free to
help. It feels like a big video game to me. I want to
knock that shit out as fast and as clean as possible
and help keep that restaurant churnin' out the meals.
I just dig being part of a team and am honestly
THIRSTY for it since so much of what I do is by
myself...
Of course my mind
was everywhere. It isn't lost on me that I'm
actually washing dishes because I do
indeed need to bring in more money and my career
is absolutely nowhere. Thinking of Talya, who comes
from clearly a different socio-econiomic
background, filled my head. That guilt from 2000 and
dumpster diving with my then fiancee Jess watching me
in the car came up again. You're suddenly back in a
world you knew you'd never be again, and you're 10
years older. I imagined her perspective and
thought of an old song. Grabbed my camera, and
voila... a strange sub-minute art film:
It was originally
a shitty song after my break-up with Burgundie in '97
where I sarcastically redid a love song I wrote
for her, "Baby it's You". I now thought of it from
Talya's perspective looking at the man she's handing
the rest of her life too who is washing dishes to make
some bucks. Her father would flip the fuck out. HA.
Of course, I've
shown a million times over that I'm capable of more,
but the opportunity arised, and I took it. Is it
a lack of pride? I guess by some people's
definition, but I honestly, sincerely, don't believe
I'm above ANY type of work. I never have, and
always do everything as fast as I possibly can 'cause
I want to be the best goddamn dish-washer that
place has ever seen. It's not a lack of pride, in fact
it's the opposite. If I can make the statement "I
can do anything..." doesn't that also include things
I don't necessarily want to do, that I'm
over-qualified for, that I'm underpaid for? Doesn't
that also take mental toughness? To not
have the attitude that I'm above the work? How many
people can do that? And whistle and SING while they're
doing it?
So I whistled, I
caught the restaurant up by the end of the day with
only a quick 15 minute break to scarf down some food
and by the end? I was actually happy. I felt
NEEDED. I felt useful. I helped a
team, and I honestly couldn't wait until the following
week where I got to feel that way again...
...except they
would hear NONE of that. When I said I'd take
the job at the end of the day the owner laughed in my
face. "No, no, you're too good, etc.". "I really
don't mind, man", "No, no..." I couldn't convince him.
He thanked me for helping them in an emergency, was
impressed with how fast I moved, barely stopping for a
moment, but even the mention of me doing it again was
taken as if I was actually performing a comedy
routine...
...and today I'm
actually really bummed about it. You know,
I thought about if I had a baby at home and
was working to take care of that baby... and how proud
I'd be that I was contributing - but honestly? No one
would ever hire me. I mean, I get it in the
business world. They do one google search, assume
you're far more famous than you actually are and
figure you'll leave, and you never get past the
interview. It's happened several times before and in
fact, I think I burned the last place
I worked so bad they'll never hire someone in the
industry ever again (even though I gave them well more
than 30 days and left because of their business
practices more than the Comedy Central gig).
Ugh.
Yesterday, the day
I became a dishwasher and lost even that job by
the end. I sure know how to procrastinate this
Sundance Film Festival edit of my movie, don't
I?
