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.
Since I hated food service, and because I was too dense to notice that people only post jobs that no one else wants in the City Paper, I decided to answer an ad for Christopher's Bakery. I had no idea what this place was, but I figured, "Fuck, it's a bakery." It said they needed a dishwasher/food prep person and I was excited not to have to lie on my resume (read: job application), since I had experience at Isaac's. It was also located in Center City, which meant I only had to take one bus. I refuse to travel anywhere on more than one bus, unless there is a hot tub involved. I noticed the ad almost every time I looked in the classifieds, and was too fucking young and stupid to make the high turnover means sucky job connection. Plus rent is due in two weeks level of desperation.
I set up the appointment, and had an interview with a dude named Gary. Well, ok, I forget the douche's name, but the fucker looked like a Gary, and had a moustache, so whatever I'm calling him Gary. Gary seemed like a really down to earth dude. I explained that I need flexible hours to be in a band. He seemed really ok with that, and said he supported the fact that I needed a day job to pay the bills. I think he might have just seen Wayne's World and that drummer washed dishes, so he wanted to be down. He said the pay was only six bucks an hour. Using my keen mental budgeting skills, I figured that I could pay rent and still have enough money left over to make a phone call to mom and dad and beg them to borrow money. I was in, and we shook on it. He gave me the firm handshake that denoted confidence. Not quite as firm as the "this is my daughter you're dating asshole, and I hope to God you're just a phase designed to get back at me for missing her ballet recital (is that what they're called? I dunno) when she was 11," handshake.
So I was not really excited about the j-o-b. The first rule was that I had to either wear a hat or a hair net to work. As if there was really a choice, I mean come on. I looked so bitchin' in that free hair net. I still rock one from time to time. I began to refer to myself as Guido Levandoski, but then I chided myself for being racist, but then I told myself to get over it and returned to calling myself Guido Levandoski. I was also issued an apron. I looked oustandingly, sexually attractive.
I got there at 6:30 AM on the dot and was told to start food prep. We could have used about two more people. Everyone was screaming at everyone else. Gary came in and started yelling like a drill sergeant in 'Nam. He totally pulled a Jekyll & Hyde. I was like "Oh my fucking God this blows." I decided to see if this was just a weird off day for everyone. I worked a couple more days. The same thing every day, he yelled the same thing at the same time like clockwork. I started making calls to other places on my time off (you know what they say kids, the best way to get a job is to have a job). Those jerk offs didn't give me free food either, but that's ok, the food seemed shitty anyway. Something about an employees' discount, but fuck them I don't sell my soul to the company store. I got sent home by twelve, so I wasn't getting more than 25 hours a week. The counter person tipped out the line people, and I think my share was like two bucks. I think I lasted until the end of the week, before I hung up my apron in the back, never to return.
Ok, I did return to get my paycheck. The assistant manager wrote out a check. She said, "I've deducted twenty dollars because you never returned your apron." That pissed me right the fuck off. You see, I've collected aprons from my jobs from K-mart to Isaac's. They were high quality aprons with the name of the workplace neatly embroidered on them. They looked sharp and I consider myself quite the conosoiur. I have them proudly on display shoved in my trunk or somewhere, I forget. I can honestly say that I left that worthless, stained yellow, couldn't-give-it-away-to-people-in-a-situation-comedy-stranded-outside-their-house-naked-due-to-some-zany-plot-twist-involving-a-shower-and-the-paperboy apron in the back of that filthy kitchen. Twenty dollars my pale, hairy Polish ass. So I did what anyone who wants to get their way does whilst surrounded by paying customers. I pitched a hissy fit. "FUCK YOU! I GAVE THAT APRON BACK. YOU BETTER GIMME THAT TWENTY DOLLARS OR I'LL TELL ALL THESE PEOPLE HOW MANY TIMES I SPIT IN THE BATTER BITCH!" It worked.
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