2013/02/21

Chapter 37: Done Moments

CHRISTMAS VACATION: CONFESSIONS OF A CONFUSED DOUCHE


SECTION FOUR: ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA





Chapter XXXVII: Done Moments



My increasing lack of appeal led to my done moments in Milwaukee. A done moment is the moment when you realize that you are completely done with whatever situation you may be in; your time is up and it is officially time to move on. I reached the conclusion that I had worn out my welcome in Milwaukee and simply did not belong. It would be wrong of me to hold a grudge against Milwaukee for my lack of appeal to the citizens of that city. Simply put, they already held their opinions as to what types of people they find the most interesting and I did not meet that description. Once again, the majority had voted and I lost.

When I worked at the VA in Cincinnati, my “done moment” happened one day while I was waiting for an elevator. The elevators were broken down, they were moving extremely slow (too slow for a hospital) and I had been waiting on an elevator for about the same length of time I waited for buses in Asheville. As I was waiting, a medical emergency occurred and the medical staff brought a patient to the elevator who was suffering from congestive heart failure. I suppose I could have dealt with him, but it was his wife who heightened my despair. She was having an extremely difficult time accepting the fact that her husband was dying and she kept asking the most desperate of questions to the staff—this is common procedure right? He’s going to fine isn’t he? This is common, right? There’s stuff that you guys can do?

Needless to say, when the elevator finally arrived, possibly too late, they had a more important priority than me delivering the mail. Therefore, I had stand there and wait forever for the next elevator. All the while, that image of that woman trying desperately to cope with her husband dying was all I could think about… and the way my mind works, I thought of every awful aspect of that situation that left her devastated. I knew at this point I was not cut out to work in a hospital.

The done moment became even more official when I grew tired of waiting for that elevator again, and decided to take the stairs with the mail cart. The mail cart was not heavy at all and it was extremely easy taking it down the steps. I wished I had thought of this sooner as this was definitely far more efficient than waiting for the elevator—particularly since only one was working in the entire building, a building that contained medical emergencies.

Some lame brained Cincinnati simpleton who lacked the ability to think anywhere near outside the box saw me taking the cart down the stairs and absolutely freaked out and went into a state of disarray. She had witnessed something outside the norm of her daily fat ass routine and it totally fucked with her head. As a result, she called my supervisor and filed a complaint.

This bitch should have been put in her place. I would have expected the people in my department to not only ignore her petty nonsensical complaints, but become downright infuriated with the stupid whore. They should have said, “Look bitch, there’s only one God damn elevator working in the whole hospital and that’s needed for patients who might be having a medical emergency. The more people use the elevator instead of the stairs is jeopardizing people’s lives. We are committing a major disservice to our patients; the mail has to run, and if it can be taken easily with the stairs, so be it.”

Instead of being awarded for efficiency, and for the fact that I pleased all of the people in the hospital by delivering their mail in a timely manner under dubious conditions, they took the side of the one stupid bitch who complained and I was written up. Those two happened in the same week, and that’s when I knew I was done working at the VA. I enrolled in school shortly afterwards and vowed to leave the VA as soon as I earned my degree.

While in school, I went to West Fest with some friends. A fight erupted between two girls outside of a bar. A crowd had gathered around and we stopped to investigate the situation. Another girl approached to do something, I’ll never know what, and this other girl beat the shit out of her; landed several combinations across the face until she was knocked down, and then proceeded to get on top of her and beat her senseless—all for what seemed like nothing at all—cute girl too.

Bouncers soon intervened to break up the fight and some huge 6’5 300 pound mother fucker kept shoving this little white girl. She was showing no signs of retaliation and kept screaming back at him, “don’t fucking touch me!” Finally, he hoisted the skinny little white girl into the air and body slammed her onto the concrete. This led to another huge fracas and there were now suddenly dozens of people involved in this fight. The police finally showed up, and who knows what the fuck happened then… we split as soon as the cops showed up.

Later that night, we were eating our late night post-drunken dinner, and I finally said out loud, “You know, I’m turned off by the violence.” I had seen that exact same fight at pretty much every single festival in Cincinnati. If these stupid mother fuckers can’t even go out and enjoy themselves, then fuck them. I was done. At that moment, I knew that I would be leaving Cincinnati, and the VA, immediately after graduation.

My done moment in Milwaukee came when my hours were mysteriously cut at The Cheese Bar. This happened shortly after a girl entered and told the owner that I was the coolest bartender in Milwaukee. She was hot too—the type girl whose presence can improve sales drastically. Rather than congratulate me for that compliment, something he could never do, he told her that she was incorrect because some old lady from Alabama did not appreciate my sense of humor.

They (there were 3 other beautiful women in this group) replied, “So, fuck her. This isn’t Alabama. You don’t want fucking old people in here anyway.”

By the end of it, they were stating that both me and Mitch were the two best bartenders in the world, how great we were, and went on and on about how we should be given a raise and all sorts of over-the-top flattery.

Raise? Nope. The following week, both of our hours were cut and Mitch and I were no longer permitted to work together.

At that point, I knew my days working for that owner were dwindling. I tried to reason with him, I tried to accept him, I tried to embrace all of his foolish ideas, and at times he was pretty cool. By the end of it though, I reached the point where I pretty much hated Ken, and I do not wish to hate anybody. 

Unfortunately, nobody liked him, and he had lost the respect of all of his staff. He gradually improved, but at that moment, I knew we were just completely incompatible. I even questioned why the fuck I was still working there in the first place. Worst of all, I was tired of constantly being put in losing situations and then scrutinized for less-than-perfect outcomes when all I could possibly do was prevent total disaster. I was tired of bailing out his constant fuck-ups just to receive denunciation in return. It was virtually impossible to succeed in some of the circumstances I had faced.

This place had a bar that served food adjoined with a retail store. We had to work the bar, provide table service, make the food, and run the store—there were two people scheduled to perform all of this. There were too many occasions when the workload became overwhelming and no way possible to provide quality service. And, there were numerous occasions where I nearly walked out and even vowed to forfeit my pay because I wanted no part of it. If there were 30 people at the bar and all of them ordered food and beer flights it could spell disaster for most people; couple that with 20 more people in the store; couple that with some of the menu items took lengthy times (15 minutes) to prepare; couple that with some times we didn’t even have hot water; couple that with the ice machine was broken; couple that with we would run out of everything; couple that with the fact that the clientele base was often unbearable; couple that with various disasters that occurred such as the incident where some imbecile loosened the pipe on the urinal and water rushed into restaurant for several hours because there were only two of us and we were already overwhelmed; couple that with the fact that we had to constantly deal with moronic phone calls… if all of these disasters occurred at once, our staff, normally just two of us, worked at a freakishly rapid place, and handled the situation the best of our abilities. In fact, all things considered, we were pretty damn good in these situations as we satisfied most customers and even still enamored several others. However, there were some occurrences where one pathetic asshole would file the most unreasonable of complaints; and I would get into trouble for that one unreasonable complaint—such as that old bitch from Alabama who obviously did not know a way to earn a dollar.*

For my first Saturday off in over two years (as long as I had been working there, I had never been off on a Saturday) I was walking around town trying to find something to do. I stopped in the local bar; this new place called Camp that opened a couple blocks from my apartment. I felt miserably out of place. Something told me, you don’t belong here. This isn’t you. I knew I was done in Milwaukee.

It also occurred to me then that when I was not working, a significant portion of my time was spent all alone. A major portion of that is because I did not fit in anywhere. Furthermore, since none of the women liked me in Milwaukee, I lost interest in going out. The alone part eventually led to frequent melancholy, and I rarely even spoke to anybody.

On the other hand, I did bond numerous true friendships. For whatever reason, people have constantly attempted to talk me into staying in Milwaukee; “no, you can’t leave.” The question arose, why would they say this? I’m alone most of the time, I don’t hardly see any of these people… and I’m nowhere near the most important person in their life. Many of them were married with children, after I leave; life is going to be exactly the same. One of the women at City Market even told me I couldn’t leave, “I really hate to see you go.” Why? I only see you for maybe 5 minutes a week, in five short one minute spurts. You don’t even know my last name; we have never had a conversation.

When I moved to Asheville, nobody asked why. In Milwaukee, I was asked why I moved to Milwaukee several times a week—especially at work. Unfortunately, I am honest, even though one of my New Year’s Resolutions was to start lying. Each time, I answered honestly, told the lame story about me and Jen, and answered the same series of questions—it was like a broken record. One time I tried to tell somebody that I was evading the police because I was the head of a sex cult in North Carolina, but nobody believed me.

Then, people asked why I was leaving. This is something better off not known. For me to explain this, that would involve potentially insulting somebody or sounding as if I have low self-esteem. I like Milwaukee, I made some great friends there, and I will always come back to visit. Simply put, I just fit in better in Asheville, let’s just leave it at that.

There is also one more key goal that I would like to achieve. Over the course of nearly two years, I have been dating this girl. Too bad I’ve never met her. She is taller than me, mean, bitchy, more aggressive, has her act together, intolerant of typical mainstream douchy behavior, not easily impressed, definitely not enamored with corny pick-up lines or enticed with material possessions, capable of steering me in the right direction, an avid fan of great music, no television, and prefers different over conventional; she is my ideal girlfriend and I constantly picture us together in my head. Like me, she has not conformed to the conditioning society has been implicating since the rise of the first regime.

This woman would come to my rescue, she would be that miracle I've seeking for years, and I shall never be lost again. I don’t even mind being verbally, physically, and sexually abused while being placed on a tight leash because I know that is more than likely required to put me back on course to my desired destination. She is a feminist with a distinct image that does not conform to tabloid fixation and yearns to be the domineering one of the relationship. This woman is not ever offended, not overly emotional, and enjoys a warped sense of humor. The major key in all of that is that she desires something different rather than fitting in with norms of society as devised by unreliable narrators.

One day, I would like to actually meet her. Unfortunately, I doubt she resides in Milwaukee. Is it wrong of me to desire everlasting companionship? Is it wrong of me to confess that I need assistance digging myself out of the mess that I have created?


Index: Chapter List

Chapter 37 Soundtrack Listing:


1. Spiritualized
"Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space" 3:41

Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space
1997

2. Bluebottle Kiss
"So Slow" 3:58

Come Across
2004

3. Foreigner
"I've Waited So Long" 4:06

Double Vision
1978

4. Pure X
"Voices" 3:56

Pleasure
2011

5. The Pop Group
"We Are Time" 6:29

Y
1979

6. The Ramones
"I Wanna Be Well" 2:28

Rocket to Russia
1977

7. Firefall
"You Are the Woman" 3:46

Firefall
1976

8. Wilco
"Walken" 4:28

Sky Blue Sky
2007

9. King Khan & The Shrines
"Welfare Bread" 4:08

What Is?!
2007

10. Queen
"My Melancholy Blues" 3:35

News Of The World
1977

11. Of Montreal
"The Past Is A Grotesque Animal" 11:54

Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer
2007

12. The Velvet Underground
"Sister Ray" 17:31

White Light/White Heat
1968

All Sections Written, Designed, and Music Compiled by Tony J. Neal

* "Earn a dollar" reference extracted from Sister Ray by The Velvet Underground; written by Lou Reed
No Image Available image pulled from Google a long time ago- common image
"LOSS" screen called "Displaced Text" shared from Photoshop Star


©2013

2 comments:

  1. The next time somebody asks me why I quit the Cheese Mart I'm going to copy and paste those entire paragraphs.

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