Argh
12/19/01
Damn it all to hell.
Can I please have one fricking normal day? Please, God? Please with sugar dumplings & butter cookies with chocolate frosting?
So last night, er, early this morning I’m up in a chat room with the vancouver entourage trying to coordinate the maddening logistics of traveling with a group of 11, who’s staying where, when they’re arriving, departing, and loose time lines. Of course this is interrupted by amusing, though insanely distracting, non-sequiter comments. Even those by yours trully.
mjkim1974: (ok, complete non sequiter) Some freak just emailed me asking for permission to write to me about my feet in an erotic fashion. Brilliant. My freaks are now polite.
By the way, I just realized that the chat transcripts make me really hungry now.
After all there was turkeydinner, my housemate Jon aka potpie, and superkimchee. (along with everyone else delish)
After an hour of completely irresponsible chat, I started freaking out, demanded that everyone email me their details, and then put together a spreadsheet in about a half hour. *Breath, breath, breath*
Santa Pimping Story Dujour for 12/18/01
7:45 PM
Dad Customer “Wow, you guys are so great. Cheerful even after working all day with the kids”
Moi: “Thanks sir”
Dad Customer “So how on earth do you manage?”
Moi: “That would be the drugs.”
Dad Customer
*I* was joking.
Then today.
The morning went relatively smoothly between set up, the first 100 or so customers, and then recieiving a call from a photographer that said he’d be down to see me in about 20 minutes. This is in relation to recent news that I’m going to be some little story re: how 2001 has changed some individual lives dramatically. Yeah, that’d be me. Going from dot.com yuppy chick to freelance writer/ santa pimping with a stop in between, with dominican nuns in paris on 9/11.
Great, I don’t have any lipstick nearby, my nose is dripping from being out in the cold all afternoon, and I’ve gotten little sleep. A real beyoooot I’m feeling. I guess it’s supposed to run in the Oakland Tribune sometime this week or weekend. Yeah, more fame ho-ing.
Then at 2 the girlfriend of one of my elves comes by to let me know that he won’t be in at work.
“Why?”
“Oh, he’s in Police custody. When we got evicted from our apartment, somehow the police came and searched the place and have charged him with posession of drug paraphernalia.”
“Um. Ok.”
And like a child learning her alphabet, I was educated on the signs of a “tweaker”, backtracked through my memory of curious circumstances, signs, and symptoms.
I swear, I’m such a naive little midwest girl sometimes. Prompt replacement elf was duly called in.
And *THEN* one of my other elves gives me grief because I’m actually making her work during her shift. She’s lousy with managing cash and is either consistantly slow, or sloppy with money in the register, which often leads to gross discrepencies on daily close out. *OR* she’s slow on the camera, and zones out when it comes to greeting new families. So she’s a runner. Simple duty, runs order forms to parents and photos after they print out. Even this she slacks on, standing there, zoning out, and forcing me to constantly remind her to take items to their appropriate owner. And then she goes on break. After break she wants to be on register. We argue and she tells me “I HOPE you’re not working on **** when I am”. And then blows off the next 3 customer orders. Moi “So are you now not even going to do your job?” Her : “I *AM* doing my job.” “Not when the register girl has to come over and get the photos from you.” She glowers at me for the remainder of her shift. Bloody brilliant.
And so it’s a long ass fricking wacked out cranky day.
So, yeah. Crack heads and cranky elves.
Way to go Holiday Spirit. Way to go.
It’s pretty bad when I’m no longer counting down to X-mas but really just counting down the days I’ll be done with this fucked up Santa pimping gig. I am *this* close to stabbing someone in the neck with a candycane right now.
Days till Santa Pimping is Over - 5
Days to Xmas - 6
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