A WORD FROM OUR FOUNDER

Hey, how're you? let's chat.

You know being me is a double edged sword, for every normal person who i'd like to hang out with but gives me a wide berth because of the deafening "i'm not one of you" vibes that i'm giving off to my fellow man, there is a dousche that comes up and wants to feel like a man for a few fleeting minutes by hanging out with the scary dude.  The only benefit of my "look" is that LOGICALLY i shouldn't have to worry about strangers striking up conversations, asking for directions or attempting to interact with me in any way.  i mean...lookit that guy up there...would you strike up a conversation with him at the gym?  does he look like he wants to chat? and yet, i'll bet i have more strangers come up to me than normal people do.  i guess i look interesting i dunno really i can only guess at peoples motivation. 

a few months ago, I'm at the library minding my own business when some guy leans over 

"hey...are you looking for a job too?"...now...of course this line of conversation could lead down any number of paths that i had no interest in.  

"No"

"oh...what do you do?"

"i'm an illustrator, draw comic books, i work for Mad and do other freelance work"

He replies the split second i finish my sentence signaling that he didn't actually listen to a word i said. Now i'm sure he does this to everyone and no one notices because they have an ordinary job that doesn't require much to sink in.  but when you tell someone you work for MAD magazine and they don't respond to that...it's pretty obvious they weren't listening.  anyhow so he goes on

"oh, cause i'm looking for a job i just lost mine so i'm  checking the internet here, checking the job board, gotta get something you know?"

"uh...sure, plenty of work out there if you look."

"yeah yeah"

now like i said this was months ago...he was i'd say about my age, good looking fellow, dark hair, 5'8 -5,9 160-170 pounds  not a skinny guy but not fat, just sort of solid. he was wearing dockers and a nice button up shirt with no tie, and an orange members only jacket.  average looking fellow who for some reason struck up a conversation with me, i believe at the time i was wearing unlaced army boots, work pants from when i was a mechanic, and a grey t-shirt with a blood stain on the sleeve because i just gouged the crap out of my elbow that morning.

why would this fellow...pick me out of everyone there to talk to?  it'd be an interesting psychological study, but here's my dime store analysis- this guy had just recently lost his job, he was clearly someone who has an (up to that point) stable, secure life, thanks to his choice of career, attire, friends ect ect.   So he is out of his comfort zone, his ego probably took a good blow, and for someone who is used to security and employment he probably was starting to feel like a lowlife...if he has a family he now can't provide for them, if he doesn't it's going to be that much harder to attract someone if you're unemployed. in short he was feeling like i looked- desperate, shady, at odds with society.  It'd guess that is why he came up to me.  He was looking for a partner in misery. it's as though he was a freshman entering "lowlife high school" and looking for someone to ingratiate himself with and fit in and feel safe.

Unfortunately for him, i only LOOK like i'm in the position he has just found himself in. I'm in the library at 1:00 on a weekday because i make my own schedule, I'm dressed like i just rolled out of a junkyard because i don't have to see anyone to do what i do AND i was working on my CLASSIC 78 El Camino (...it is too a classic and you shut your mouth!) which is how i gouged my arm. and i had no real interest in propping the guy up.  I got my own problems, like where i'm going to find seat rails for a 78 el camino.  just a tip by the way - BLUE toilet bowl cleaner disintegrates rust.  if you have a rusted up bolt or latch you can pour it on there or pour some one a sponge and rub the rust right off, it's pretty damn cool...unless of course there was nothing left but rust in which case you've just rubbed away the entire part you where trying to save.

anyhoo, have i mentioned that was months ago?  because i still see this guy from time to time, in fact i saw him today...he came up to have another conversation.  he is now 5'6 (i swear, he's shorter than me now) 185-195, flabby, wearing black sweat paints, a crumpled black fleece, and his orange members only jacked looks like he slept in it, his hair is peppered with grey now, and of course he had the week old stubble. at this point IT WAS I who had his fight or flight response kick in and i choose flight.  i did a 180 and tried to pretend i didn't recognized him as i looked through the first magazine i saw...it was some woman's magazine with Raechal Rae...who's kinda hot in a thick sort of way...did i mention recently it was time to renew my auto insurance and i changed to progressive because i got a thing for the progressive lady on the commercial?  if i ever do meet her i probably shouldn't bring that up...it'll seem creepy.  I bet i will met her one day too...with the circles i travel in it, seem inevitables...i just hope she ages well, cause on average i meet famous people about 7 years after they are done being famous. she doesn't seem like she's gonna age well either, as smitten as i am with her now i see a clear and distinct line across her chin were her foundaiton stops and her natual pale skin starts in her future...you know the look i'm talking about?  it's the "39th parrellel" line of make-up stoppage that old white ladies usually have.  that or a real pale cracky complection with bright dry red lipstick.  that's what i see coming for her...i hope i'm wrong.

.

.back to this guy, he taps me on the shoulder

"hey, you,re a graphic designer right?"  

...i'm not sure where he got this idea or if that's as best as he could wrap his brain around what i told him i do for a living...

"uh..yeah, sure"

"yeah, i got three friends who do (let me interrupt here by saying you should read this as though there are no spaces between any of the words...or periods and imagine a minty yet chikeny smell like he just stuffed a fist full of tic tacs in his face because he realized he didn't know when the last time he brushed his teeth was...okay continue, and remember don't stop for air...OH and imagine his eyes darting back and forth) graphic design work and there's no jobs out there, i;m just letting you know there's no jobs, it used to all be art work right? now they got these computers that have programs that just do it all for you it just does it all and so everybody's doing it themselves and there's no jobs. it's like home repair everybody can just do it themselves now you know? you know?  okay just letting you know, there like no jobs i got three friends that are into that."  

then we wandered off.

.

.

.

good...lord...talk about folding up like a dollar bill. just a few months ago he was exactly the kind of guy who looks down at me when I'm in line at the airport...and now he looks like the guy who tries to wash my windshield when i pull out of the parking structure.  and he's not going to score many points on his next interview until he dials down the "twighlight zone" music that's playing in his head while be rambles on. 

 yeash.  apparently the thin veneer of having your shit together is just as thin for people who DO have their shit together as people like me who are trying to look like they have their shit together. i dunno, i do know this, life's a marathon not a sprint.  this guy and everyone else panicking about the job market would do well to remember this.  so you lost your job...who gives a shit, get another one.  and just because you spent six years learning how to be a dental assistant doesn't mean it's against the law for you to do something else if there are no dental assistant jobs.  you WERE a dental assistant NOW you're assistant manager at wal-mart...who gives a shit? neither job is really something that defines you anyhow so who cares.  get a check, pay your bills, then find something fun to do in between.  

and really...so the unemployment rate is at 10%...that means if there are 100 people in the room you only have to be better than 10 of them to get a job...that isn't that hard considering at least one of them is rambling on like a lunatic and smells like a tic tacs factory and slept in his jacket.

but i do feel sorry for the guy in a way.  i mean, i knew going into my field that there where going to be ups and downs, feasts and famines and it's the kind of career where you are broke until you are rich.  but he picked a safe career and ended up in the same boat...no actually he's not in the same boat...i'm doing fine, he's fucked.  he's fucked because he thought bad things only happen to people who take risks.  actually bad things happen to everybody and people who take risks are inherently prepared for it.  

most of me is enjoying his demise, in a way he represents every normal guy who looks at me crossways or scoffs when they hear what i do for a living.  Well low and behold YOU'RE job choice isn't any more practical or responsible than mine...in fact since I still have MY job and YOU don't have yours...one could say that YOU, by taking the easy way out and not picking a specialized skill and developing that skill past that of the vast majority of the given work force, were irresponsible, lazy, short sighted.

i think since this guy is going to keep pestering me i should steer him right down the drain and start offering to buy him drinks at a local pub. just be the devil on his shoulder, turn him into an alcoholic, keep filling his head with despair and reading the unemployment rate every day, maybe make sure he's late for a job interview or two.  i'm sure i can get him to bring me home to watch the ballgame or something, i should hurry up on that before his HD tv gets reposesed...hell, i bet an EMPLOYED comic book illustrator might look pretty fetching to his future x-wife.  If nothing else i can steal his silverware to pawn when the tide turns back and he's on the top again.

comments? concerns?

douglaspasz@gmail.com

myspace.com/douglasarseniclullaby

www.arseniclullabies.com