Tag Archives: people

Dear Waterfront

21 Mar

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A walk after work, to let go of the week.  Second day of Spring, sun is out, wind is nippy. And because I can’t just walk to walk…I take in the people and things sharing it with me…composing notes along four miles of ocean front.

Dear Kid Learning To Ride A Bike,
You’ve got this buddy.  Dad’s got your back, and Mom’s waiting for you with open arms.  I hope this is true for you, forever.

***

Dear Twenty-Something Beach Bod Shirtless Skateboarder Whose Lapped Me Three Times,
Without sounding letchy…thank you.

***

Dear Stroller Brigade,
Kudos, super Moms in matching tracksuits.

***

Dear C.I.Shenanigans,
So much garlic and butter smell, wafting.  You teasing asshole.

***

Dear Middle-Aged Couple Making Out On Grass Knoll,
Winning! Kinda gross…but, winning!

***

Dear Epic Wonder Runner,
I didn’t know there were that many different individual muscles in a calf.  You freak of fitness.

***

Dear Cocktail Hour Seniors Lolling Into Harbor Lights,
I’m so jealous of you bastards.  Have one for me.

***

Dear Construction Workers,
Heh, heh. (winky wink.)

***

Dear Fat Man With Tiny Dog,
Casting gold.

***

Dear Clam Diggers,
Dudes, don’t eat ’em.  It’s the goddamn waterfront.  You know what’s in that water?!?!?

***

Dear Tandem Runners,
It’s cute how you can talk, run, and breathe at the same time.  But you don’t have to rub it in.

***

Dear Awkward Rollerbladers,
Most people learn how to do this in a less public and embarrassing atmosphere…without thru-traffic and extending dog leashes everywhere.  But apparently,you’re not “most people.” So good luck with that.

***

Dear Dog Daters,
I dunno how your dog sniffing her dog’s butt opens up meet-cute conversation flirtation…but whatever works for yuh, I guess.

***

Dear Random Tweaker Dancing Fosse Moves To Silence,
Yes. 

***

Dear Emo Gay Boys,
Listen: you’re friends, one or both of you wants to be more, so stop walking with hands in pockets, three feet apart, like accidental physical contact would set you on fire. One of you assholes, just take the other one’s hand, and get over it.

***

Dear Old Man Onna Bench,
If I was playing waterfront bingo, I would have just won, for which I hypothetically thank you.

***

Dear Handsy New Daters,
You’re not ready to be in public yet. There’s a society line at 4pm in public where children are hanging out. That line doesn’t include cupping, squeezing or dry humping.

***

Dear Chick Putting Off Script Study To Write A Blog Entry,
Cuppa tea number 300, turn off the computer, and get to work…slacker.

~D

Death Of Blob

4 Feb

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I’m one of those humans who needs to have a purpose…an end point, a goal…because if not, I turn into a lard-person-jelly-lump.  Both physically and mentally.

…I don’t do well just free-floating whichever way the breeze (if any) happens to be blowing this day/week/month/year.

So, I go for goals.

…I like  to plan and prep the next three things I wanna audition for…which informs what color and length of hair I’ll be sporting for the next six to nine months…how fat I’m allowed to let myself get, or how much I need to lose…what kind of movies and books I’ll be watching and reading for study aids…which actors will be my obsession teachers this go-round…and (eventually, based on casting)…what I will be doing with my night’s and weekends, and “where.”

…Which is why booking a show for me, is not just a big deal as “an actor,” but even just “as a person.” 

Twenty years doing a thing, builds some serious habits.

It reflects the kind of year I’ll have emotionally, physically, psychologically. It reflects the people I will be socializing with…which friends I’ll be seeing more regularly, and the kinds of places I go on the down-times…based on which city and county those “down-times” occur in.

…So, when I DON’T have anything to plan, at all…not even on the what-to-audition-for-next pipeline…I literally don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not a person who can just “be” to “be.” I can’t not think and study and plan. It’s against the religion of me. Even my Psych Doc couldn’t break me of it.

…Hence, for the last month, post-last-show, I have turned into a blob with total lack of enthusiasm.

Family tragedies certainly don’t help that.

…All you can do is just sit there, being “the blob,” turning into MORE of a blob, and thinking you are prob’ly doomed to get even blobbier before anything changes for the better. If ever again, at all.

So you do.

…Till an actual goal pops up.

…And you see it float there above your head, juuuuust outta reach, so you have to actually shift your weight, and stand up in order to touch it.

…And you do.

…And the fucker wiggles free n’ flies away, right in front of you…

…And you think, “Goddamn it, if I were FIT I’d have just jumped higher, and gotten a better hold of the thing to begin with!”

…Only sometimes, I guess the goal doesn’t totally float away for good.

…Sometimes, for reasons even YOU don’t understand, it gets caught up in the corner over there. But since you told yourself to forget about it, you don’t even know it’s there. How could it be? You totally lost it. You were there!

…Only looks like, maybe you didn’t.

…And two days later, you get a call on the phone. And it goes a little something like this:

AD: Hi. This is (Artistic Director you know.) I’m calling about the show.

Me: Oh. Yeah. That. Listen, I’m really sorry about lousing up that callback…

AD: I’m calling…

Me: –The “thanks, but no thanks call,” no, yeah. I get it.

AD: Not really. What? No. He wants to offer you a role.

Me: (Beat.) What?

AD: In the show.

Me: Who?

AD: The Director.

Me: Oh.

AD: Yeah.

Me: Why?

AD: Why??

Me: Yeah.

AD: Um. Because he liked you?

Me: (Beat.) No. But really. Why?

AD: That’s really why.

Me: But, I sucked.

AD:…Or: not.

Me: Really.

AD: Yep.

Me: Huh.

AD: So…

Me: Yeah?

AD: You like…wanna do the show?

Me: Oh! Sorry. YES.

AD: Okay then.

Me: Yeah.

AD: Good.

Me: I really needed this. I mean: comedy and purpose and stuff.

AD: Well, good.

(Long silence.)

Me:…But, seriously?

AD: Seriously.

…And so now, all of a sudden…the blob regains purpose.

…Which is a very good thing.

Very good.

I feel like I can breathe again.

Eventually, it’ll even sink in.

Huzzah and stuff — !

~D

Threats & Other Side Effects

16 Aug

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I dunno what it is about our particular business at the Brothel…but working here is the first time I have been faced with consumer fury when things go awry, equal to the kind of emotions that begin World Wars.

…A 90-something year old man went all “Gran Torino” on our Whs Pimp once, threatening to “shoot him in the head,” just because a part was missing from their delivery.

…A Wife (in prep for her Husband’s birthday) warned us ahead of time that if we screwed this up, we’d have political ramification for it.  Cuz he was “such-in-such, under la-de-dah, with the department of whats-it-called.”

…This one time? Boss was damned to hell so viciously, he put it on speaker phone, muted. We laughed our asses off as it continued to grow in tirade across the better part of five minutes. Which is a long-ass time, when it’s one run-on sentence without stopping for air.

We are not “new” to the game of totally ridiculous over-reactions, here. Just part of the job.  I dunno “why.”

…In keeping with this, I’ve been dealing for two days with this Customer who (if he had his way), would have Boss and me fired, skinned, cooked on a spit, our children kidnapped, our pets murdered, houses ransacked, and the towns we live in pillaged.

…I know this because across the span of these past 48 hours, he has told me so.

Because Boss is on vacation at some beach house with zero cell signal, it has fallen solely on me to deal with this enticing character. 

…Besides being thoroughly pissed to have to deal with someone who isn’t a man, said Customer is also further enraged that there is such a person above me, whom he cannot speak with, under any circumstance.  “Cannot” isn’t in his vocabulary.  Most especially as he owns us (don’t you know.)  WE work for HIM, Boss is HIS hired servant, I am less than a concubine, and Customer DEMANDS we understand this.

…He’s also gone on a political bent about “burocracy,”  compared us to both Hitler AND Stalin, called me a “capitalist pig,” (though I very obviously make less money than he does), and made it perfectly clear that if he does not get his way, the President will be hearing about it.  Not of our “company,” mind you.  Of the United States.

Now, English doesn’t happen to be his first language, and he clearly has some unresolved issues with regards to the workings of his previous country of origin.  Also, clearly, some unresolved issues on how we do things over here.  I am not entirely sure how we can possibly be Capitalistic-Social-Communists who are trying to “rape” him with regards to our goods and services.  I assume both frustration and a major language barrier are a greater part of these threats than not.  But what I do know is that by day two, I was a HELL of a lot less “gracious” about it, when he called for the 11th time to awkwardly attempt a verbal ripping of a new asshole.

By 9:30 today, I was just done.

DONE, with listening to him barrage me with hypothetical pictorals of my imminent demise. DONE trying to corral and calm him down. DONE with the five follow-up calls directly after speaking with him from every source our company owns which ever has touched his order in the annals of history. 

…I was DONE trying to explain process and procedures, while he refused me a word in edgewise.  DONE with his brayings about “honor” and “entitlement”…and DONE being called “you girl,” on a consistant basis, with the kind of spit-grimace in his voice indicating I registered somewhere between “horse shit” and “amoebas” in the classification of worldwide existence.

I HAVE A NAME!  I HAVE A POSITION!  I HAVE A COUNTRY WHO REFUSES TO KILL ME FOR NOT HAVING PRODUCT IN STOCK!  I AM A WOMAN, GODDAMN IT, NOT JUST “SOME GIRL!”  AND I AM SO FUCKING DONE WITH YOU NOW!

…Needless to say, our last conversation didn’t go as he planned.

In fact, it was rather a curious turn of events.

…Apparently I am the very first being from the population of all womanity to take him on, head-to-head.  I must have been.  Because his shocked silence to my final stipulation, was a 180 degree turn from his previous stance.

“Enough!  This stops now.  You WILL NOT speak to me like this anymore.  I am the manager of this office.  If you are unhappy, I will delete your order, return your money, and instruct Corporate to refuse any further services.  That is my final offer.”

…”Refuse?”  But how can this be??  He owns us!  By rights of all consumerism.  It says so in the rule books and stuff!

Refuse,” says I.

…To which a silence followed.  It was full.  He, using all the space inside of it to troubleshoot this new dilemma.

Me: “Do you want to keep your appointment tomorrow, or would you like me to cancel your order.”

He: “Please.  Yes.  Yes…please for to, please…keep appointment.  Tomorrow.  Yes.  Fine. Please.”

Me: “Alright then.  You’ll be receiving a call tomorrow morning with estimated time of arrival.”

He: “Please, yes.”

Me: “Thank you.”

He:  “Yes.  Please.  Thank you.”

The end.

Why the change?

How do you just stop an ongoing assault, lasting for two days, on a dime like that and completely turn a corner into a totally different scenario? 

I have no idea.  But I do remember this one thing m’shrink said once…when I was knee-deep in frustrations and all-consuming  irrational faux-responsibilites. 

…I tend to take the world onto my shoulders because, goddamn it, I can manage and hold the weight!  Until I can’t anymore, that is.  The whole idea is NOT to get to that point. 

People need boundaries. 

We need to set them for ourselves as well as for “others.” We need to declare them. We need to enforce them.  If for no other reason: at the very least, our own sanity. 

…People encroach like children…pressing buttons and limits just because they can…because they want to know where the final line rides.  Where is your tipping point?  And a lot of time…more often than you would think…saying, “ENOUGH IS ENOUGH,” doesn’t sully your reputation.  Instead, you very often will GAIN something. Certainly, “dignity.”  “Honor.” “Peace.”

…And sometimes…even from the most filthy hatred-spewing assholes…a kind of “respect.”

Battle won.

…Now for the rest of m’day…

Next?

~D

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