What else is new

I had a job interview recently (3 months ago) that started with a hypothetical scenario: I am tasked with completing a project by the end of the week. Over the course of the week things come up, I slack off, it doesn’t get done. Now it’s the end of the week. What do I do?

 

My first reaction was: who told you about that. I hadn’t given references and that was one time, a year ago. So, once I composed myself, I explained how I hadn’t really “slacked off” so much as it only looked like I had because the assistant principal came into my classroom without knocking and my head was allegedly “face down on the desk”. So, for the given scenario, I told the interviewer that after explaining the importance of fair-warning and personal privacy, I would explain how the list of students I was tasked with scheduling conferences with would have been done had it not been for being unable to get into my google account because I let Skylar The Dumbass borrow my computer for less than 15 minutes and that’s all it takes for that idiot to do as idiots do and wreck havoc. That Skylar is the opposite of Midas, where everything she touches turns to crap, not gold. I just checked my email, they are yet to reach out. 

 

That email check wasn’t completely useless though. Turns out I did not get the open Program Coordinator position at Colgate. This rejection cuts especially deep because I have been a longtime admirer of the brand and consider Crest a zippy, exciting, in your face sham of a toothpaste. Colgate maintains, in my opinion, a dignified, medicinal elegance that Crest cannot live up to. I imagine them like the old Apple and Microsoft guy commercials, but instead of the cool guy being cool, he’s actually a twerp who can’t contain himself with how deliriously happy he is to be Crest. Colgate, on the other hand, wields his prestige with grace, not needing any of the glitz and glamor. Whatever. I’m done brushing. See how they like that. 

 

In other news I have been summoned to lead VBS this year at my old church. VBS, for the heathens, stands for vacation bible school. Basically summer time day care with bible verses. I so badly do not want to do it, but I decided that when my old church asks me to do something, I must heed the call. It’s how I was raised. What’s interesting is the other 15 kids, who were raised the exact same way as me, are somehow able to not heed the call at all. They are heedless to such calls, it’s like they can’t hear it ringing. Instead, they feel heeded to sit in the back row of the church and film those who do heed (me) on snapchat, garnished with disparaging captions and some stupid little filter that makes me want to wring their necks.

 

You would think a church of our size would require all hands on deck. You will realize, however, that it seems to operate just fine with the same four hands while the rest, again, sit in the back row and snicker behind phone cameras. For example (to pick one will be the challenge here), one Sunday they cast roles for an upcoming Christmas play. I was not in attendance. Did this stop them from casting me? No. Did this stop them from casting me as the lead? No again. This is the kind of stuff I’m up against here. This is the kind of depraved behavior I’m dealing with.

 

This casting I recall being especially damning as the plot consisted of me committing an armed robbery as a desperate attempt to provide for my pregnant wife who, by the end of the play, gives birth. On stage. This is followed by an explanation of the true meaning of Christmas, softening my character’s heart and turning me away from a life of crime. You may wonder, how was something like this approved? Well, approval assumes an alternative to be selected from. We found a script and someone willing to direct it, now sit back and be happy the pastors kid’s aren’t doing another acapella performance. 

 

Did I have experience leading a play? No, but experience (or lack thereof) has never disqualified anybody from the privilege of performing at church. I remember being asked once to perform a duet during the offering. The song was How Great Thou Art. I played trombone, and would be accompanied by a violin. You might think, who has a rendition of How Great Thou Art for a trombone and a violin? Well desperation fuels many unlikely duos. You then may consider that, with enough talent, it shouldn’t matter. Unbridled skill will round out any supposed rough edges. Talent, much like production value, desire to perform, or whether the song would even be listenable have never been priorities for our offering time performances. I believe at the time of this specific performance I had been playing the trombone for a total of 8 days. And the violinist was a 9 year old. So again, it’s not so much a performance as it is an opportunity for the pianist to rub out her arthritis.

 

I recall one Sunday coming to church after being away for a year at college. 10 minutes into the sermon I was on stage, microphone in hand, interrogated by the pastor in front of everybody about what I was doing with my life. What, I wondered, were they planning on doing originally? But that’s the beauty of a local church. Adherence to a schedule or routine is always second to a young person we can give a mic to and force up front. 

 

Besides myself, the only person who has had it as bad is my friend James where one Easter Sunday we decided to really up the ante. With an old white robe from the Christmas play of ‘98 we dressed him as Jesus, fashioned a cross out of some two by fours, and had him drag it to the front where we then proceeded to crucify him. That was our Easter Sunday. Crucifying James. And these people… you may think he’d be off the hook for future involvement, but they operate by a different sort of logic. If, they realize, he’s willing to wear a dress and be nailed to a cross, surely he won’t mind singing in the worship choir next Sunday. And doing the offering the Sunday after that. At Bethel Baptist Church, no good deed goes unpunished. And Mrs. Gordon makes sure of it. 

 

Anyways, I’m going to help with VBS because it’s nice to do and I’m going to have a good attitude and try not to mention every 8 minutes how excruciating the experience is, even now, 4 months ahead of time.

 

What else? I’m growing my hair out. Or, more accurately, it’s getting longer. I hesitate to give myself too much credit in the process. I feel I’ve exhausted all my options in the mid range, never really able to nail a look void of dumbassery, so now I’m taking the journey towards long hair and the journey requires at least 8 months of being asked if this is a choice or I’m broke. All that to say I look like hell and everybody asks what I’m doing. Again, too much action implied by these questions. I’m not doing anything. I’m just “seeing what happens”. Coincidentally, this is precisely the same strategy I’ve been employing in nearly every other aspect of my life; merely an echo of a larger, far more damning theme. 

 

The job hunt has evolved. “Hunt” no longer accurately depicts my methods. “Bashing job’s heads in with a meat cleaver” would be a more accurate image. I’m starving. I’m dangerous. I’m throwing myself at cashier gigs and meat slicing internships like a rabid dog. Sure, the buffalo (a staff writer position in an entertainment corporation) would be nice, but those are hard to come by, and by the time I show up the thing’s already full of spears with somebody gnawing on the ankle. No, I’ll take the warthog with cancer. That’s just fine for me. 

Everybody is in amazement that I have been able to survive this long. And survive is just the word; living has been put on hold. Outings consist of going to the gym (of which I’m employed), returning home, reading a book in between, then trying to nap—not because I’m tired but because it’s better than being conscious. That’s been the most exhausting part of this process: how painfully aware I’ve been through it all. It’s tiring to have so much energy. To be so on. Exhaustion is my new dream. But instead I lay awake, wondering if it’s time I dust off the trombone, drag it to the subway, and play the accompaniment to How Great Thou Art. So if you hear a series of droning whole notes at the corner of 14th and 6th, know that I’m still open to employment.