Tag Archives: the past

Living the dream

If I posted my dreams as if they were blog entries, this place would be so much more interesting. For example, from last night:

You guys! So much to tell you – I don’t even know where to start. So for some reason, I decided to get a job working retail at [chain of music venues where I used to work] again. Who knows why – it’s not a lot of extra cash, but somehow, the place was always really compelling. Anyway! I was heading to one of my first few shifts, and I was kind of running late. (There was a backstory to that which involved dropping my dad off at school, but that’s not really all that interesting, anyway…) I was supposed to be there at 1, and it was like 1:05 and I was just a couple of blocks away. No big, it’s a low-pressure retail job! I don’t know why I didn’t care about being on time – that’s the exact opposite of everything that happens in my daily life. But then my phone rang, and it was a manager I hadn’t met before, and she was kiiiiiiiind of losing it because she was expecting me at noon, not one.

“No way,” I said. “I saw the schedule. I’m supposed to be there at one!”

“Maybe it changed, but it’s your responsibility to know that. Get here, now.”

So I did. I got my bank, and headed to the store to set up, but it seems that there may have been a reason the schedule was change. Madonna was giving an afternoon concert for, like, 50 people. Maybe they were contest winners? Anyway, instead of working in the store, I was going to be doing coat check for those special few invited to the concert.

I made way down to the club, where production was in the middle of sound check. It was a rather perfunctory sound check, and since the Great Lady couldn’t be there herself, the head of production was hum-singing “Material Girl” into one of the microphones. 

And that was when I noticed that about 10 of the audience members were seated on stools, holding signs. They were women, mostly in their mid-30s, and they were dressed up as Madonna crossed with a My Little Pony of their choice. On the sign was written their cultivar – “Madonna x. My Little Pony” (Unfortunately, my brain didn’t know any My Little Pony names, so these were all entirely made up. Madonna x. Slutollata. Madonna x. Flygirl.)

“What rare flowers,” I thought as I breezed past them. “What beautiful birds.”

They all checked coats. They were all terrible tippers.



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