Mike, the editor, recently emailed a writing suggestion; which I believe is a perfect illustration as to how Gmail sucks where “blocked mail“ settings are concerned.
Mike’s suggestions are the leading cause for suicide in the United States. His communications, both written and oral, typically cause severe loss of appetite and erectile dysfunction.**
**Results may vary
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: Idea
I have a GREAT idea. You should get a temp/fill-in job and write about your observations and experiences. It could be a good working storyline.
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Stupid Idea
This is Jim’s friend, Dave. Some time back, Jim granted access to all of his passwords and copies of his car & house keys in the event of a personal emergency.
Sadly, Jim is dead.
P.S. Are you aware that he has a blow-up doll that looks like Betty White under the bed?? Bizarre!
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: Idea
Hmmmm. I’m curious as to the manner in which Jim died.
**Treme is an inner-city neighborhood in New Orleans. The word "Treme" is French for: "Don't go there at night"
I arrived at the staging area outside of a downtown hotel at 6am.
As dutifully chronicled in the national news media, New Orleans is a city known for weather extremes.
The day before the shoot, it was sunny and 75 degrees...
On the morning of the shoot it was about 38 degrees along with torrential rain and hurricane force winds, with a slight chance of a massive mudslide.
When he’s not performing as a film extra (and possibly a fetish porn star) I’m not exactly sure about what this guy does for a living…but I’m fairly certain that he’s killed someone before.
Possibly with his right arm.
A location director eventually came in to speak with us. By speak I mean that she screamed at us via megaphone as though we were standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier.
In listening to the screaming megaphone woman, I embraced a large feeling of sympathy for her husband and recited a silent prayer for him.
It was at this precise moment when I also pondered various methods in which I might kill Mike the editor and get away with it in a court of law.
On a positive note, the film crew constantly fed us!
We feasted on sausage, grits and eggs for breakfast. A hearty serving of pulled pork for early lunch and a late afternoon light meal; which consisted of a colossal deli pita wrap (the best lettuce sandwich I’ve ever had.) They also gave us a bag of bagel chips.
The catering service for the film crew were apparently given strict instructions that the use of seasonings of any sort would ruin the film shoot and possibly kill the actors.
Each item from the above menu tasted like a church communion wafer…with the exception of the Betty Crocker Fruit Snacks.
Either Betty Crocker owns HBO or there seems to be a level of deep concern about scurvy amongst the Hollywood film industry. Every time I turned around someone was shoving fruit snacks in my face.
One fun aspect of being in a film shoot is that they shuttle you around in tour busses as though you're part of a presidential motorcade.
We got to blaze through red lights, stop signs and we pretty much zoomed through any and all lanes of the road as we pleased. Such as the fashion in which New Orlenians drive all the time...only New Orleans motorists do it without a police escort.
I quickly made friends with two wonderful young ladies who have, apparently, previously worked as “extras.”
Because I am a responsible employee, fill-in or not, I only did two shots with them.
Suddenly, and without expressed or written invitation, a director motioned for me.
As a background tid-bit, the "come here" motion typically causes a sinking feeling in my stomach. Primarily because, when people motion for me, it's usually followed by a bunch of difficult questions which almost always results in me getting into trouble.
The director felt that I would make for an excellent candidate to be in a solo scene for a “staged” post-Hurricane Katrina protest which would involve me driving a car.
As any number of friends who have been passengers in my vehicle will attest, this clearly indicates that the Treme' director is an idiot.
Director: Okay, can you drive?
"CUT!!!"
"And…ACTION!!"
Drive forward 3-feet; grab the protest sign and rapidly walk toward the protest scene. Accidentally hit the camera (and camera man) with my protest sign.
And...ACTION!
Collect the protest sign and rapidly walk to the table.
"And…CUT!"
I DID IT!!!!
Director: That was perfect!**
My film prowess clearly made quite an impression on the director and film crew-- as evidenced by the fact that they let me off work before ANYONE else on the shoot!
I may get an agent and pursue a film career!
Since I had unexpected extra time on my hands, I arranged for a fill-in position with another employer which Mike had suggested.
This time…I’m off to the restaurant business.
I’ve never worked in the restaurant business, but I learned a great deal about it during my temporary tenure.
I learned that, once they clear the threshold of the kitchen entrance, table servers pretty much hate everyone on the planet…especially people who order food. (i.e. customers)
Dishwashers are excellent candidates for committing a workplace massacre, line cooks hate servers, (and customers), the bartender is a raging alcoholic and being a restaurant owner seems to cause one to behave in a manner which is consistent with being clinically insane.
Servers and line chefs have a special bond, especially in, what I can only characterize as, an interesting communication style.
10-minutes before the kitchen is slated to close:
Server: Order in!!!
Line Chef: (Groans)
Server: Three filet mignon…well done, mid-rare and rare. Three side salads, make one salad to-go please. Three baked potatoes…"sub" sour cream on one potato.
Line Chef: What do they want to substitute the sour cream with??
Server: A 5-pound lobster. Oh, to go please!!
Line Chef: If you bring me one more fuc*#ng order, I am going to rip your face off with a filet knife and shove you in the walk-in cooler behind a crate of lettuce and cillantro.
The customers were nice; and since I was new to the biz, they were quite eager to provide helpful feedback on the comment cards…
**I visited the bartender on my break.
By the way, did you know that there’s some sort of health code statute against smoking in the kitchen prep area???
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Funeral Service Specifics & Creepy Betty White Fetish
He was having intimate relations with a 22-year old student from Xavier University on the banks of Bayou St. John.
Unfortunately, Jim was eaten by a family of dwarf alligators.
Unfortunately, Jim was eaten by a family of dwarf alligators.
The girl is okay; she‘s a little dazed and remains quite speechless-- not from witnessing this terrible accident-- from the intimate relations portion of the experience.
Unfortunately, they had to euthanize them-- The gators that is...not the girl.
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: Idea
Yeah, I’m not buying it. Look, I’ve attached two job postings I found online…c’mon, this could be fun!
They’re fill-in/temp positions…nothing deeply labor intensive. It’s a no-brainer…Plus, you’ll get paid for it!
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Wikipedia Answers...Procedures For Filing A Restraining Order
This sounds like YOUR job. When do I start?
This sounds like YOUR job. When do I start?
My first assignment involved participation as a cast “extra” in the filming of the HBO original series “Treme.”
**Treme is an inner-city neighborhood in New Orleans. The word "Treme" is French for: "Don't go there at night"
I arrived at the staging area outside of a downtown hotel at 6am.
As dutifully chronicled in the national news media, New Orleans is a city known for weather extremes.
The day before the shoot, it was sunny and 75 degrees...
On the morning of the shoot it was about 38 degrees along with torrential rain and hurricane force winds, with a slight chance of a massive mudslide.
My fellow “extras” were assembled in one of the hotel’s exquisitely decorated ballrooms (circa 1972) where we awaited instructions as to what would be required for today‘s shoot…other than an arctic snowsuit and scuba gear.
After carefully scanning the room, I spotted an empty seat next to a pleasant gentleman who donned an over sized army surplus jacket, a floppy fishing hat and a gigantic tattoo on his left arm which read:
After carefully scanning the room, I spotted an empty seat next to a pleasant gentleman who donned an over sized army surplus jacket, a floppy fishing hat and a gigantic tattoo on his left arm which read:
“Bring It Bi*ch”
And another, with a straight horizontal line halfway up his right arm, which read:
“Insert to here”
Coupled with the 1970’s porno moustache, tank top and excessive body hair, my internal alarms should have prompted me to demand for a rescue helicopter. But, I really wanted to sit down before a long day of filming.
Me: Anyone sitting here?
Military Porno Fisherman: No
(A minute or two of silence passes)
Military Porno Fisherman: Did you know that Russian Czar Aleksandr II was assassinated by a bomb which tore off his legs, ripped open his belly and mutilated his face?
Me: (Rising from my seat) I’ll be right back.
When he’s not performing as a film extra (and possibly a fetish porn star) I’m not exactly sure about what this guy does for a living…but I’m fairly certain that he’s killed someone before.
Possibly with his right arm.
Waiting for a film shoot is fun. We did many exciting things to pass the time…such as being hungry and bored senseless.
A location director eventually came in to speak with us. By speak I mean that she screamed at us via megaphone as though we were standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier.
She explained that we would be paid $100.00 and could, possibly, be on location for 12-hours…outside.
In listening to the screaming megaphone woman, I embraced a large feeling of sympathy for her husband and recited a silent prayer for him.
It was at this precise moment when I also pondered various methods in which I might kill Mike the editor and get away with it in a court of law.
On a positive note, the film crew constantly fed us!
We feasted on sausage, grits and eggs for breakfast. A hearty serving of pulled pork for early lunch and a late afternoon light meal; which consisted of a colossal deli pita wrap (the best lettuce sandwich I’ve ever had.) They also gave us a bag of bagel chips.
The catering service for the film crew were apparently given strict instructions that the use of seasonings of any sort would ruin the film shoot and possibly kill the actors.
Each item from the above menu tasted like a church communion wafer…with the exception of the Betty Crocker Fruit Snacks.
Either Betty Crocker owns HBO or there seems to be a level of deep concern about scurvy amongst the Hollywood film industry. Every time I turned around someone was shoving fruit snacks in my face.
One fun aspect of being in a film shoot is that they shuttle you around in tour busses as though you're part of a presidential motorcade.
We got to blaze through red lights, stop signs and we pretty much zoomed through any and all lanes of the road as we pleased. Such as the fashion in which New Orlenians drive all the time...only New Orleans motorists do it without a police escort.
I quickly made friends with two wonderful young ladies who have, apparently, previously worked as “extras.”
They came to the shoot equipped with an emergency comfort stash:
A large flask of whiskey.
Because I am a responsible employee, fill-in or not, I only did two shots with them.
11:00am:
Idly standing around in the middle of a New Orleans neighborhood doing nothing at all. A fair description of a typical day for me-- only this time I was getting PAID for it!
Suddenly, and without expressed or written invitation, a director motioned for me.
As a background tid-bit, the "come here" motion typically causes a sinking feeling in my stomach. Primarily because, when people motion for me, it's usually followed by a bunch of difficult questions which almost always results in me getting into trouble.
The director felt that I would make for an excellent candidate to be in a solo scene for a “staged” post-Hurricane Katrina protest which would involve me driving a car.
As any number of friends who have been passengers in my vehicle will attest, this clearly indicates that the Treme' director is an idiot.
Director: Okay, can you drive?
Me: My insurance agent and the Orleans Parish traffic court judges might provide a more comprehensive evaluation.
Director: (Nervous laugh) You’ll be fine. Look, I want you to back this car up about 3-feet; when I give you the cue, drive it forward 3-feet to this street sign and grab the protest sign out of the passenger seat and walk to the table over there. Any questions?
Me: Can I get a DUI on a closed movie set?
Director: (Nervous laugh)
"And…ACTION!!"
Take 1:
Accidentally graze the curb with the front tire
"CUT!!!"
Take 2:
Having trouble backing into the parallel parking spot. Finally park after 5th attempt. Nearly run over a neighborhood cat. (Cat scrambles up a nearby oak tree as the crowd of film extras look at me in horror)
Having trouble backing into the parallel parking spot. Finally park after 5th attempt. Nearly run over a neighborhood cat. (Cat scrambles up a nearby oak tree as the crowd of film extras look at me in horror)
"And…ACTION!!"
Drive forward 3-feet; grab the protest sign and rapidly walk toward the protest scene. Accidentally hit the camera (and camera man) with my protest sign.
"CUT!!!!!"
Take 15:
Drive forward 3-feet**
**Note: Front camera crew has now begun shooting my scene from a branch in a nearby oak tree; the cat is also with them.
And...ACTION!
Collect the protest sign and rapidly walk to the table.
"And…CUT!"
I DID IT!!!!
Director: That was perfect!**
**10-seconds after the scene was complete, it became painfully obvious that I accidentally left the car in neutral…it began to roll forward into a collection of empty trash cans and crushed a director‘s chair.
Fortunately, the director was not in the chair at the time.
The front camera crew (along with the cat) looked down from the oak branch in horror.
I may get an agent and pursue a film career!
Since I had unexpected extra time on my hands, I arranged for a fill-in position with another employer which Mike had suggested.
This time…I’m off to the restaurant business.
I’ve never worked in the restaurant business, but I learned a great deal about it during my temporary tenure.
I learned that, once they clear the threshold of the kitchen entrance, table servers pretty much hate everyone on the planet…especially people who order food. (i.e. customers)
Dishwashers are excellent candidates for committing a workplace massacre, line cooks hate servers, (and customers), the bartender is a raging alcoholic and being a restaurant owner seems to cause one to behave in a manner which is consistent with being clinically insane.
Servers and line chefs have a special bond, especially in, what I can only characterize as, an interesting communication style.
10-minutes before the kitchen is slated to close:
Server: Order in!!!
Line Chef: (Groans)
Server: Three filet mignon…well done, mid-rare and rare. Three side salads, make one salad to-go please. Three baked potatoes…"sub" sour cream on one potato.
Line Chef: What do they want to substitute the sour cream with??
Server: A 5-pound lobster. Oh, to go please!!
Line Chef: If you bring me one more fuc*#ng order, I am going to rip your face off with a filet knife and shove you in the walk-in cooler behind a crate of lettuce and cillantro.
The customers were nice; and since I was new to the biz, they were quite eager to provide helpful feedback on the comment cards…
“Worst server we’ve EVER seen.”
“I will NEVER come back to your restaurant again!”
“Our server seemed to be drunk”**
**I visited the bartender on my break.
By the way, did you know that there’s some sort of health code statute against smoking in the kitchen prep area???
The restaurant owner seemed to be irritated with me for some reason and assigned re-stock duties to me.
My assignment at hand was to replace the roll of towels in the restroom. For the record, mechanical towel dispensers are not as user-friendly as they appear to be!
Step 1:
Unlock the cover
Step 2:
Fumble with the clasp to the cover in continued efforts to unlock the cover
Step 3:
FINALLY open the cover
Step 4:
Insert the towel roll
Step 5:
Towel roll keeps slipping out of the dispenser
Step 6:
Finally able to position the towel roll appropriately; try to maneuver the towel feed into the slot
Steps 7-10:
Repeated failed attempts at aligning the roll with the slot/feed advance
Step 11:
Successfully feed the towels through the mechanism
Step 12:
Visit the restaurant bartender**
**Smoke a cigarette
I liken my foray into towel replacement duties to that of my first sexual experience at age 16.
Only I didn't cry this time.
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
Let me make certain that I understand this correctly…you got fired from TWO jobs in three days?? AND, you nearly destroyed a restaurant by starting a grease fire???
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: WTF?
Impressive, huh?
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
I have one final job possibility for you so that you can, hopefully, get something good to write about. I don’t think that it’s remotely possible for you to screw THIS one up.
Since you bartended your way through college, there's an open position selling liquor shots in the 900 block of Bourbon. My assistant PR manager knows the owner. I'll meet you there at 10pm. Don’t be late!
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Uh…
Isn’t the 900 block predominately gay?
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
My assignment at hand was to replace the roll of towels in the restroom. For the record, mechanical towel dispensers are not as user-friendly as they appear to be!
Step 1:
Unlock the cover
Step 2:
Fumble with the clasp to the cover in continued efforts to unlock the cover
Step 3:
FINALLY open the cover
Step 4:
Insert the towel roll
Step 5:
Towel roll keeps slipping out of the dispenser
Step 6:
Finally able to position the towel roll appropriately; try to maneuver the towel feed into the slot
Steps 7-10:
Repeated failed attempts at aligning the roll with the slot/feed advance
Step 11:
Successfully feed the towels through the mechanism
Step 12:
Visit the restaurant bartender**
**Smoke a cigarette
I liken my foray into towel replacement duties to that of my first sexual experience at age 16.
Only I didn't cry this time.
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
Let me make certain that I understand this correctly…you got fired from TWO jobs in three days?? AND, you nearly destroyed a restaurant by starting a grease fire???
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: WTF?
Impressive, huh?
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
I have one final job possibility for you so that you can, hopefully, get something good to write about. I don’t think that it’s remotely possible for you to screw THIS one up.
Since you bartended your way through college, there's an open position selling liquor shots in the 900 block of Bourbon. My assistant PR manager knows the owner. I'll meet you there at 10pm. Don’t be late!
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Uh…
Isn’t the 900 block predominately gay?
 |
| I'm gonna KILL Mike!!! |
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
