Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Work And Pants And Sandwiches.
Ah, the daily grind–you know how it is–you go into work each day and begin your usual tasks: pricing, counting inventory, filing, typing out labels for art work, entering new items, organizing consignment contracts, phone calls, calmly informing the man yelling in your face about the prevalent window cleaning wars that you no longer require his services and that yes, you are perfectly happy with that new ninja window guy and then explaining to the costumers that witnessed this hostile verbal transaction–who offered the kind words of “We wanted to save you” –that “NO ONE CAN SAVE ME.”
I have grown quite accustom to these typical work day responsibilities and duties, however, last week, I was suddenly faced with an additional and unexpected new element while on the job: Mr. Sandwichpants.
I am going to level with you, readers. I had initially intended to spin an elaborate and hopefully humorous tale about this new odd man who has been visiting me daily for the past week in the gallery where I work. Unfortunately, I have, once again, been struck with some seriously sucky ass/can’t get off the floor/food in my hair/Dudley Moore movie watching/I thought my bunny was dead, but he was only sleeping very still depression.
Due to this recent affliction of morbid sadness and woe, I fear that I will be unable to make the story of the mentally off sandwich-enthusiast pants man (who slowly crept into the gallery with his pants wide open and asked me for a safety pin and then asked me if I would pin his pants together for him because he only has the use of one hand and I politely declined his request and offered him an alternate suggestion that he did not hear because he is hard of hearing so I loudly repeated my response of “NO I WON’T HOLD YOUR PANTS TOGETHER. YOU SHOULD FIND A MAN TO DO IT” so he did and then he returned the next day to tell me that he is “Going to the beauty parlor soon” where they will “Make him a handsome man” which evidently meant giving him a messy side pony tail because that is what he showed up with the following day when he came in to ask me with excited, crazy eyes, “Guess what I did today? I got another hole punched on my sandwich card–only one more hole punch and I get a sandwich free! Do you have a sandwich card?” and I said, “No” and he insisted, “You just don’t know what you are missing” and I assured him, “I think I do.”) funny.
I apologize for my shortcomings this week and hope to be able to pull my head out of my ass very soon. I leave you with “Christiansands” by Tricky. Enjoy his freaky cool voice. Thank you, Jackson for directing me to him.