By Steve Levandoski
Let's face it. If you are a musician you will probably never make enough money to pay the rent on that 2-bedroom apartment you share with 8 other people. IF you are lucky enough to get signed, the little money the record company doesn't screw you out of will be squandered on MC Hammer-type mansions (he's doing credit card commercials now), or tied up in some lawsuit. You will need to get a shitjob. I've enjoyed the privilege of having and losing about thirty different jobs in the four years since I dropped out of college. This is my guide for al you young bloods out there. Each issue will feature a different job I once had in chronological order,and how to take advantage of it while it takes advantage of you.
So during the 18 hour train ride back to Philadelphia I managed to win my ex back through much whining and sulking in the drinking car. The only problem was that I now had no job. It turned out that her roommate's dad was pretty high up in the security guard racquet, and pulled some strings to get me a job as a bicycle security guard. It paid twelve bucks an hour and had full benefits, so I was stoked to the max.
I went the headquarters and filled out the paper work. The only catch to the job was that my first job was way in South Philly, and that I had to pass a wiz quiz by 3:00 the next day.
I did the responsible thing and woke up bright and early to do a test run to the job site to see how long it would take me to bike it. It wound up that it only took me about twenty minutes. Then it started to rain, so I figured that I should go top speed to save myself a good drenching. I was hauling ass, super psyched about the job, and on top of the world, nothing could stop me nowwww……Well, nothing except South Philly trolley tracks. My tire got stuck perpendicular like a lever and I went straight down on my wrists, fracturing one and spraining the other. I lay on the ground like a dying cockroach, until a kindly Septa worker yelled "Hey, Stupid get out of the fucking street! What are you retarded?" I managed to hobble over to a Wa-Wa in order to find the number of a taxi. Flipping through the yellow pages was a total motherfucker. But then I saw a cab pull out of a building next door and I managed to hail it. The cab driver wasn't too into letting me but my bike in the trunk until he noticed how banged up I was. Later through conversation , I found out the building was the DMV, and he finally got his license back after he was busted for "some trifling shit" He tried to take me to the hospital, but I made him take me home so I could drop off my bicycle and walk to the drug testing place.
I walked ten blocks to the spot and went in. I told lady at the front desk that I just broke at least one of my wrists, and could I please butt in line so I could go to the emergency room. She smiled sweetly and told me very politely to have a seat and wait my turn just like everybody else. I sat next to a transvestite, who has nothing to do with the story, but was, you know, kinda weird. Finally a nurse called my name and told me to take off my jacket and wash my hands. I told her my situation and told her my predicted pain forecast involving the washing of hands with a broken wrist. She told me that hand washing was an important part of the drug test, and that if I didn't do it I would automatically fail. It turns out that my pain forecast was right on the money. I guess it really does take a LOT of screaming to impress a nurse. Then I peed in a cup.
Afterwards I went to the emergency room and waited five hours for a medical student (sorry no health insurance) to take an x-ray, give me a chincy temporary cast, and charge me a fucking grand.
So I passed the test and called the job to tell them about my day. They appreciated the amount of trouble I went through, and told I could go ahead and redo the entire interview process complete with drug test as soon as I could ride my bike again. That is, if they are still hiring. I forget what I threw after I hung up, but I'm sure it broke. At least I got a bitchin' glow in the dark cast. Later that week, Chris Peelout called me and asked me to audition to play drums.
Here are the past issues, in case you missed them or need to review:
January 2006 Security Guard, Part Six (The Turf Club Final Installment.. )
September 2005 Security Guard, Part Five
July 2005 Security Guard, Part Four
April 2005 Security Guard, Part Three
February 2005 Security Guard, Part Two
January 2005 Security Guard, Part One
December 2004 Headhunter
November 2004 Christopher's Bakery
September 2004 Bike Messenger
June 2004 Hospitality Staffing
March 2004 A new Temp Agency for Steve!
February 2004 The Civil Service scam
January 2004 I Become a Trainer
December 2003 Clean Water Action
November 2003 More Office Bullshit
September 2003 The Office Job
June 2003 Brick Factory
March 2003 Carter's Children's Ware
February 2003 Isaac's
December 2002 The Conclusion of The Incinerator
October 2002 The Incinerator Three
August 2002 The Incinerator, part 2
July 2002 The Incinerator
June 2002 Data Entry Yoni Style
May 2002 The Microchip Factory
April 2002 The Demolition Man
March 2002 MXL-Safety Glass Sweatshop
February 2002 Flagging
January 2002 Temp Agencies
November 2001 Corporate Movie Theater
August 2001 K-mart
Don't miss Steve's other regular column: Steve's Not Having It