saturday . may . one . ninety nine i’ve been in a funk for most of the day. it’s may day and i didn’t really want to work today. so last night in preparation i picked a handful of my favorite pro-labor movies to play at the store...because, if you have to work on may day, you might as well propagandize the customers. but i guess it got me thinking because i had a really shitty dream right before i woke up this morning. it’s all pretty vague but i remember that i had moved back to california in what seemed to be an escape or withdrawal from life in seattle. i can’t pin it down specifically but the general tone was that i failed here some how and ran back to ca. and i was sitting in the passenger seat of my mother’s car while she drove. i don’t know where we were going but i know i wasn’t happy about it. i suppose she was trying to help me outline my options for employment. actually not for employment as much as for career opportunities. i have no idea what she said or if i was just having an interior monologue. all i know is that i was left with a profound feeling of hopelessness, like i was lost or adrift or something. i had an acute sense that i would never fit into a career, as such. not just that i don’t want to have a settle down job, but that even if i wanted to find just the right fit, it simply doesn’t exist...not for ME anyway. no options, no prospects. lost. forever. and then i woke up. that set the general attitude of my day. so while working, any little annoying customer-wage slave interaction was profoundly exaggerated in irritation level. (i was, however, spared from The Man (general manager) who was probably playing golf today...no joke.) generally when i get snotty people in the store, they make me laugh. but today i was just too raw to find it amusing...not that any of them would notice. a lot of folks are kind. but the jerks, many of whom consider themselves liberal and open-minded, barely notice that i’m a human being. “you haven’t SEEN that movie??” and “could you go get it for me...i’m in a hurry” and "i didn't have time to rewind the six movies i watched." it just kills me. these are people that will sign petitions and maybe even go to a protest but because i work behind a counter i’m suddenly not worthy of eye contact or consideration, never mind respect. and what the fuck AM i going to do with the rest of my life? i can’t bring myself to believe that i’m going to ever be paid what i’m worth and i will not put myself in a job that kills my soul to make more money, so what’s left? when you realize that your existence is trapped within the battle of the classes where the hell are you supposed to make a life for yourself? -- tuesday . may . four . nineteen ninety nine i'm wondering why it is that all of the mentally challenged women portrayed in films and on television have such stupendously bad hair cuts? ok, they're mental, but they have friends, don't they? -- wednesday . may . five . nineteen ninety nine i'm still attempting to get my bearings in this town, something i was never good at even in the place i grew up. and forget about foreign territory...i once ended up at the place they put the busses to sleep at midnight in middle-of-nowhere jerusalem...not the clever thing to do when your hebrew consists mainly of "how much is this?" and "don't touch me there" and assorted prayers you can recite by rote memory. anyway! paul was attempting to explain to me for the gazillionth time the concept of nw 35th street vs 14 ave. s, when he told me that he had read about a biological reason for men being better at directions than women. apparently there is some kind of magnetic deposit in the eye lid that helps people delineate direction and, so he read, men have more of that magnetic stuff than women. i suppose it's possible, but i have to believe that there is an added deposit in men that makes them resistant to the concept of asking for directions. i further assume this particular deposit is located somewhat SOUTH of the eyelids. -- thursday . may . six . nineteen ninety nine i found out today that the Grand Pubah (owner) and the Man (general manager) at work fired the manager at one of the other video stores...without warning. i have this sinking feeling that things are going to slowly disintegrate until things become unbearable. i am watching these guys make bad choice after worse. there's even talk of secret shoppers and spies, for christ's sake. i understand the pressure they are under because of potential blockbuster takeovers and such but you don't win that kind of a situation by panicking and sucking the soul out of the joint. if you dilute the essence of the store to compete with the big boys you will eventually have nothing left but a pale imitation of the big boys themselves....and who the hell is going to want that?  monday . may . eleven . nineteen ninety nine we now have to play previews (read: advertising) on the monitors at the store from 4 to 8 pm. for now, they are allowing us to play muted music over it but there are murmurs of taking that away too. the funny thing is that i have never seen anyone rent a movie because of the stupid preview tapes but one out of three movies i show during the day gets snapped up. a few days after the rule came down, the Grand Pubah and the Man had been skulking in the back office as they do from time to time. i had already popped in the damn screener but the pubah appeared and sort of hissed at me in what i suppose was a friendly manner...kinda like a drug pusher on the street trying to get my attention. "pssst! screener!" is what he said. me: "it's on, brother." pubah: "oh." and then the man came in and said "hey, how 'bout a screener?" (he has a tendency to be overly goofy and jovial in what i believe is an attempt to trick us into believing that he is human instead of a corporate zombie made out of meat.) me: "it's ON, brother." man: "oh, well. you know, i just need to look good in front of the boss, right? gotta make sure i look like a competent manager." me: "yes, but i AM a competent employee. that's why the screener's already on." and then they both slithered away in silence, leaving only the stench behind. -- friday . may . fourteen . nineteen ninety nine i got a call at the video store this morning from the producer of some seattle evening entertainment show asking if they could shoot a segment interviewing movie star anthony michael hall in the store. (he's in town for the seattle film festival.) i said sure, no problem, hung up and then panicked 'cause i realized that i have no power to say yes or no to that question, so after a little calling around i got an official ok from The Man. on request from the tv people, i pulled all the a.m.h. films we had, from weird science to six degrees of separation. they wanted to set up a faux a.m.h. section for him to peruse. the crew arrived first...at least i thought it was the crew but one of the guys turned out to be the interview man...john something or other. he was pretty nice, he asked me if i wanted to ask a.m.h. any questions but i declined. i gave him some ideas and stuff and mostly i watched them set up. the branch manager (the NICE manager chick) was SO excited, it almost made ME squeal. she admits fascination with the whole celebrity thing, plus a.m.h. is a favorite of hers from childhood and beyond so she was just hilariously giddy but too shy to actually speak once he showed up. this huge limo pulls up in the parking lot and we were submerged in chaos. i don't know why i expected it to be just a.m.h. but he showed up with a group of people, some whose purpose was never clear. manager chick immediately goes into service mode, making a list of who wanted something to eat or drink. they all give her orders and i was the one who had to make sure that the limo driver got something as well. one of the group heard me and said "what a good idea. i never would have thought of that." and then there's a.m.h. himself. he was incredibly nice and remarkably normal. i had a nice chat with him, but that's probably because i wasn't star struck. poor manager chick was the big fan but she couldn't find words. manager chick turned to john host guy and said "she's really good. they just talked." and john host guy said "do you want to do that on camera?" and i said "would i like to recreate a completely spontaneous human interaction for the cameras so that you can sell advertising time? no." ok, i said that in my head. out loud i just said "no." so they did the interview, john host guy was cheesy, a.m.h. was clever and honest but ultimately the whole thing was creepy. i mean, john host guy would say "shall we take a look at a clip?" and they'd both look to the broken antique television we keep in the store as if there was something on the screen. then the interview was over and a.m.h. and the gang took off. at that point, john host guy REENACTS the entire interview with a member of his staff so they could get his close ups. but not just the questions, the snappy patter and the laughter responses and everything. it occurs to me that it is probably impossible to do that job well and not have a dead soul. i think if i had to do what john host guy does i'd be violently ill to my tummy for a real long time. when they finished the reenactment horror show, they hung about chatting while the camera guy packed up and suddenly, john host guy who had been extremely nice upon his arrival became kinda snotty and slick. i think he was sort of ego inflated or something because he didn't smile as much or make as much eye contact as before. on the way home from work, i stopped at a craft store to pick up some supplies. one of the employees i've talked with before was lying on the floor. when i came to the counter she stood up and said "don't i have the best job?" and before i realized what i was saying, i replied "well i don't know...did YOU meet anthony michael hall today?" what the hell?!?! i mean, i don't give a crap about a.m.h., and i really don't need to impress the craft store girl but i said it none the less. and what's worse? craft store girl replied "(pause) i don't know who that is." that's one of those moments that i will remember while brushing my teeth or while making some soup and i will shudder at my lameness and kick myself for being such a jerk. for eternity. monday . may . seventeen . nineteen ninety nine i found the name of my alter ego. as usual, the name of your alter ego is found in the least likely of places. i found mine on a package of toilet paper that paul bought last week. the paper has ridges...paul said "it's ribbed for OUR pleasure!!" when i went to put a new roll out i discovered that printed on the package was the following. this is my new nick name, my alter ego and the name i would use if i was a drag queen: --- tuesday . may . eighteen . nineteen ninety nine i showed a film called "point of order" today at the store. it's documentary footage of the hearings involving the united states army vs joseph mccarthy and roy cohn. i've been interested in the commie hunts lately...more in the hollywood black listing but also in the broader consequences of this time. i've seen this film before but when i'm working i prefer to run stuff i've already watched. otherwise i miss too much...i either miss doing parts of my job and/or parts of the film. (as to which is more important to me i'll let you guess.) for some reason, the Man, who was skulking in the store ALL day today, thought this film was really funny. i'm not sure why, i'm not clear what it was tickled him so, but every time he came into the front of the store he glanced at one of the monitors and laughed. actually, it wasn't laughing so much as maniacal cackling, like a demented weasel or a patient at one of the institutions for the mentally challenged that geraldo exposed on the tv a few years ago. about half way through the movie, the Mascot stopped by. the Mascot is a new guy they hired to cover assorted shifts and help put movies away during crunch times. he's a lovely person, the mascot. i worked with him for the first time on sunday. he's in his mid-sixties and a former video store owner. he's got a pretty sly wit and an expansive knowledge of film but he's also kind of a...putterer. he takes a long time to put stuff away because he's really into reading all of the boxes and exploring. that coupled with the fact that he keeps a magnifying glass with him because his sight isn't pristine and the way he likes to chat and chat and talk and talk makes him sort of like a puppy or a kindly grandpa. i keep expecting him to pat me on the head and give me a quarter. but it's all good because i genuinely like him and, i can use a grandpa. so he stopped by the store while "point of order" was playing and he gave me some tid bits about the film when the Man wandered in. so the Mascot said "i was just telling melysa that ...." and the Man cut him off and said, with a straight face, "yeah, i've been encouraging all these guys (pointing to me) to watch this." :-0 ok...how pointless a lie is THAT and further, how desperate and sad do you have to be to lie in order to impress the MASCOT??? -- friday . may . twenty-one . nineteen ninety nine it's sunny in seattle and no one wants to watch movies so the video store has become a moderately desolate place to be. today was quiet, maybe a customer an hour. a lady came in, chose her film and brought it to the counter. we chatted about her choice and right at the end of the conversation, she got a funny look on her face. i rang her up and as she headed out the door i realize that she left me a gift...she must have farted quietly while we were talking and then departed before her wind had a chance to permeate. i stood there by myself in the middle of the empty store looking around bewildered in the ass fog she left behind. monday . may . thirty one . nineteen ninety nine the Man announced today that from now on, the opening shift starts at 11am, when we open, as opposed to a half hour early. which essentially means that instead of having an extra 30 minutes of prep time to restock all of the returns and get the morning stuff done we have to open the store the minute we walk in the door. which means that we have to bust our asses for the first hour so that the Grand Pubah can save half an hour of my wages with which he can purchase a six pack of really crappy beer or perhaps a copy of people magazine...we are talking about an amount of money so small that you couldn't even support one of those starving kids on the t.v. with it. that's one of the humiliating things about the working class situation. they treat you poorly, you make close to nothing but you're almost grateful to get it. and because the slave owners want to squeeze every little drop of blood out of me, they are constantly creating ways to take more and more from me in order to better themselves.