So how do ya like my new funky ass picture (in my profile below)?
It was taken way back when in 1989 at the record release party for Sir Mix A Lot's Seminar album. Better days for sure.
If only I could still get away with grinding up close to some hottie on a sweaty dancefloor, huh? As you can see, I also clearly had the respect of the dudes gathered around me.
Oh, to be a rap mogul again.
So, I thought that picture would be a fine segue into some random blogservations on my just concluded week-long career with the Republicans at a conservative news talk radio station.
Basically, I was in the door Monday and right back out on Friday. It's been a tough week.
The good news is that this was my own decision and I'm 100% sure that it was the right one.
Too many differences between what I was told during the interview process and what the actual reality turned out to be. Turns out the training process basically consisted of watching several hours of DVD video, and then being turned loose to drum up new business in an ice-cold environment. No leads. No account base. Nothing.
It also appears that despite going out there pretty much stark naked, results were going to be expected immediately. Beyond that, it quickly became apparent that my boss was going to be pretty much a control freak determined to mold me into his personal model of perfection.
I was okay with wearing the suits and ties. Honestly, I was.
But by the time he was commenting on the fuzz on the shoulder of my jacket (the same one I wore to three separate interviews with this guy), I knew there was only one way this relationship was destined (perhaps "doomed" is a better word) to end.
Better to cut this one off at the knees right now, than to be sorry (really sorry) later on down the road, ya know?
Sorry as in a stress-related heart attack later. So he got my resignation letter today.
Now the bad news is, of course, that once again I'm unemployed. And I'm not entirely sure how this little one week misadventure is going to affect my status with the unemployment office as far as getting benefits goes.
I hadn't been there long enough to report anything to them yet. I already have it on my calendar for tomorrow to see someone about legal advice in regards unemployment (a firm that actually specializes in this) should any "unfortunate circumstances" arise out of this.
Anyway…I should have known better. That's pretty much the bottom line, isn't it?
Conservative newstalk radio station? I mean, who was I kidding, right? Plus, as most of my friends already know, I'm a guy who believes strongly in omens and warning signs. Well, here's a big one. When I went to the interview, I actually watched a guy jump out of a third story window.
You heard me right. I really did see it.
For a guy whose friends all give him untold amounts of grief for believing in signs, wonders, and the like, my question is this: How in the the hell did I manage to miss the symbolism of a guy jumping out a freaking window minutes before my interview?
So here's what happened.
Right before my interview, I was going to park here in downtown Seattle at one of those damned meters they have (did you know they even take credit cards these days?). It was roughly about 8:00 in the morning. I found my spot and was getting ready to get out of the car when I heard all this yelling and shouting. So I looked around to find the source of the commotion.
I looked right. I looked left. Nothing.
Then I happened to look up.
Directly across the street from where I was parked, in a third story apartment, I saw three guys. The two black guys we're trying to haul the third white guy back in through the window he was hanging rather precariously out of. And he was, incredibly, fighting with them.
He wanted nothing more than to go out on that freaking window sill.
So, as the two black guys kept trying to pull him in, his feet made it down to the sill of the second story window just below. But damned if he didn't keep fighting with the guys who were trying to save his life.
Finally he just fell, straight back onto the pavement and right on his head. Just like in those old cartoons you may remember as a kid. Splat!
So I got on my cell phone and called 911 (several other people standing on the street by this time all got the same idea at the same time). The aid car arrived quickly, too. Along with about half a dozen cop cars. I walked across the street and offered up my testimony as a witness to the whole thing. But the cops thanked me and said they already had several eyewitnesses.
But here's the amazing thing. As the medics tried to pick up the guy to put him into the aid car, he was still fighting them. He couldn't walk, and blood was pouring from the back of his head.
But he didn't want to go anywhere.
At one point, we made eye contact and he stared at me with this really weird look that was at once one of being frightened to death and at the same time one that seemed to indicate he knew he was pretty much already there. I don't know if he lived or died.
Never saw a thing about it on the news that night. He didn't seem to feel any pain, that's for sure. Which makes me want to know where I can get some of whatever drugs he must have been on. Who's your pharmacist, dude?
The moral of the story, at least as it relates to my brief career this week working for a conservative news talk station is that I should have seen it coming.
That and never discount an omen — especially one as clear as a guy commiting suicide right in front of the place you are about to become employed.
When that happens, run. Don't walk. Especially if the situation involves Republicans.
In short, I should have known better. Never ignore omens.