beardedlamb

when i was in high school and hating the academic parts, loving the social parts, i thought i’d like to go to college but what about taking a year off from school before going. i thought i would work as a mover full time to save money and get my feet into something real. then get on with my real life and do the college thing.
well, as it turned out you cant really take a year off and i think my mom would ahve killed me anyway if i would have done that. i had forgotten about this weird goal of mine to be a mover until just the other day as i was hauling boxes on my back up a service flight in freezing rain in Tribeca. “Wow, how stupid i was to ever want to do this!” then it occurred to me how stupid it was that i’m doing it now. i have made a huge error in the scheme of my career. i left the best job i ever had in the worst economy i have ever known to chase a girl. it was the best decision of my life as the girl part of it has exceeded expectations and turned out to be an amazing experience; ongoing.
i’ve been begging for work for around 6 months now. sending out resumes, custom cover letters, writing samples, references, the whole bit. ive had a few interviews but nothing that has panned out. except… for the weirdest…
i responded to a craigslist post for someone to handwrite addresses on postcards for a moving company for $12/hr. in the c-list post i was instructed to handwrite out a paragraph or so about myself and fax it to them. i did this and went back to watching judge shows in my bed. about 20 minutes later i got a phone call from the owner of the company. he would only let me work about 10 hours a week and people in the office were impressed with how much i could stand. i explained to them how badly i needed money, my hands cramped at the end of a 5-hour shift.

Resident
140 W 89th st.
#2A
NY, NY 10210

Resident
333 E 68th st.
#5B
NY, NY 10219

and like that… over and over and over and over… i probably wrote Resident 1500 times in the several weeks i was doing the postcards.

i offhandedly mention one day that i worked at a used furniture warehouse in Austin back in the day and that i had truck driving experience. i think i maybe drove the little trucks at that job in Austin maybe 10 times, but this was enough for them to put me in their rotation as a “dolley pusher,” basically the bitch of the crew. i get things for people, i do the trip from the elevator to the truck and lift everything to the guy packing the truck, and/or i haul stuff up or down stairs, as many as 3 flights. because we’re a “high-end” mover we often pack everything for the customer or “Custy” as they’re referred to by movers, which means we’re going through their most intimate bedroom and bathroom and stuffing them in boxes. it also means that i get put on packing books, which everyone else hates. i actually like it.
all this for $15 an hour plus tips. now without the tips, the job would not be worth it, but of course the tips are inconsistent and dependent on what the custy wants to spend or knows about what they’re supposed to give. for those of you reading this not living in Manhattan and in the market for a high-end moving company (in other words, everyone) the standard is $8 per hr. per man. some of these jobs take as many as 6 guys over three days totaling 24 hours of labor for each man. for tose of you not into doing the math (in other words, everyone) that’s $1152 added on top of the bill which would be over $5,000 for a big job like that. the best i did was $110 for one day’s work and the worst i did was $0 for 2 days work.
as the weather worsens, i can’t help but feel like my work life is a chasm of despair reaching below any trench cousteau ever discovered. yesterday it didn’t get above 30 degrees and i was outside for the coldest windiest part of the day rolling dolleys of boxes and furniture about 10 ft. to a truck and handing them to one of the biggest a-holes in the world, one of our drivers who i won’t mention by name. wow, this guy. we got into a spat one day because he thought i was ignoring him, which i was. i was not in the mood to pretend to be interested in his stupid stories about how strong he is, or what the plot to dangerous liasons is, which he has told me twice now because my name is jeremy and jeremy irons was in the movie, all with his thick eastern european accent. so, i was ignoring him unless it pertained to work. he gets out of the truck and he’s standing on 68th street on the upper east side yelling at me while i’m pushing a dolley with boxes on it. “do you like me or hate me?” “what?” i say hoping he’ll not ask me again. he does. “do you like me or hate me?” i don’t know what to say. are these my only two options? i don’t like you or hate you. i’m indifferent. i’m working with you. we only have to tolerate each other. trying to come up with something that won’t piss him off and doesn’t answer his assanine question that also isn’t a lie, i respond from about 60 feet from him, “What’s the difference?” a passing woman laughs. i think to myself, yeah that is funny to hear out of context in response to do you like me or hate me? he doesn’t understand my answer. i try to explain that he can sometimes be condescending but i think this only upsets him as its not within the english vocabulary he has acquired since moving here 10 or so years ago. understood, but still it was the only word i could tihnk of to express why i was not willing to say i “liked” him.
but my blood is boiling, i should talk about something else, although i could go on for 50 pages about all the stupid BS this guy has pulled before and since that put him right around the bottom of my list on people i wish i had never met. he may just be right above hitler who i actually only met it a dream in high school. he retroactively reminded me of george bush. a guy i don’t want in control of anything but a helluva dinner date. ya know, really entertaining and funny and charismatic but stay away from any important buttons. except this guy, angel, doesn’t even make it to the dinner table. oh, i guess i just said his name. whatever.
i’ll fast forward now to my first day as a driver for this company. it came earlier this week as a cold was setting in. i get a call from our warehouse and scheduling guy who asks if i can drive the smaller of their trucks. i say sure. it means more hours and eventually more pay per hour for the whole day’s work. wednesday morning i pick up the truck from our parking lot and drive it to the job site (about a block from where i saw Mike D of the Beastie Boys come out of his apartment while we were moving someone else). no problem. it took me an hour to get there from the lot even though it’s only about 10 miles. we pack the apartment. the next day, i arrive at the lot to pick up the truck at 7am. it’s about 20 degrees. i climb in, turn her over and warm up the engine and the cab. i pop in a merle haggard cd and head down 2nd avenue. my spirits are high. i feel like a blue collar hero. i sing haggard and work the massive perpendicular steering wheel, occasionally honking at the rogue cab or the dumbass pedestrian trying to cross at the wrong time. the horn is my friend. then hell breaks open. i load in the cold for 5 hours (see above). with the truck fully loaded i head to the drop off site, their new apartment about 7 blocks away. on a wide one-way street i’m in the left lane going about 20 mph preparing to turn left. BAM! i hear a loud crunch. a family of kids and their nanny jump fro the noise. i look in the side mirror to see chunks of tree and leaves raining down and bouncing the direction of the truck, rolling up the street with me. then i realize what has happened. i’ve hit a tree.
getting to the site, i survey the damage. it’s not too bad, but there is definitely daylight and the corner of the truck is smashed in. toast.
as we unload and the day goes on, i’m hoping this gets me fired. i know that’s impossible as everyone loves me, save angel. please end this. get me outta here. as the 13 hour day winds down and i’m driving back to the lot by myself in my wounded soldier, i put the merle haggard cd back on in the hopes it will cheer me up. it doesn’t. i can’t sing anymore from the whipping wind unleashed on my vocal chords. i am the saddest.
most of it is wiped away after a few minutes with caitlin, who has brought home a plate of meat and potatoes from her company’s christmas party, which i was supposed to make.

so this is me now. i basically have four activities. i sleep. i eat. i hang with caitlin. i work as a residential mover for bitchy rich people in manhattan. i’m also still applying for other jobs that aren’t manual labor and i never hear back from. i also rehearse and do improv with start trekkin NYC and my new The Hypotheticals. that’s helping.

i certainly feel like i am the missing me, though. my career has never been stable except for when i was in LA. i am away from austin and all of my family; most of my friends. my car is in storage sitting lonely waiting for me while i still make payments on it. and tomorrow it will snow 10 inches in new york. i hate northern winters more than i hate stupid coworkers, more than i hate loading boxes, more than i hate yogurt-on-the-go. i am in career duldrums, awaiting an eventual move to austin where babies and house purchasings will commence. out of bounds is my only positive career beacon. i am clearly a failure at everything else. i’m not going to give up applying for jobs and something will eventually hit. i just feel like jumping off something high sometimes when i think about money.

hows that for a triumphant return to this here blog?

b

Resident
123 No Penny Ln.
#0
Jeremy, LB 78704