Taped to the bathroom mirror this morning was a page covered in tiny, illegible, hieroglyphic-like red etches.  Employing an ancient enucleation technique I saw on a recently reran episode of MacGuyver, I was able to decipher the strange scribbles.  It appeared to be a poem — from BJ!  It was at that moment that I beheld the most beautiful, artless verse of prose ever bestowed upon me by a stupid roommate.  I share this with you now.

A POEM FOR MY BUDDY CHRIS
I like to watch you when you sleep -
When you are sleeping I make not a peep.
I like to wear the clothes you have worn,
Especially the ones that are smelly and torn.
I like to call people and pretend I’m you -
Your mom now thinks you’ve become a Jew.
I like to photograph you when you don’t know,
Blow them up and then put them on show.
Most of all I’d like to say, I’m glad you’re my bud.
Now let’s get some BBQ and some bitches.

How sweet is that?  Bordering on psychotic, but sweet just the same.  It inspired me to requite a few genuine lines, myself, in the form of haiku.  I share this with you now.

BJ, you scare me
I’m kicking you out but leave
The rent, you dumbass

It’s all about the love, you know?

I love that scene in Ghost, where Creepy Subway Man teaches Sam how to move things with his mind.  I’d like to imagine that if I died and were stuck wandering the dingy subway platforms of NYC for all eternity, somebody else would come along and we could play ghost games all day, too.  Whoopi Goldberg is so fucking good in that movie, you know she must have fought tooth and nail to get cast in that role.  She was actually at the hotel a week or two ago, she was at this BIll Clinton party in the Library Bar.  I know she’s been a big Clinton supporter from the start, so I’ll bet they’re good friends.  I’ll bet she teases him about the Lewinsky thing all the time, saying shit like, “Alright Big Willie, I’m stepping to the head.  Keep little willie in those shorts and don’t be talking to any jewish girls while I’m gone.”  She is so cool, man.

So the kids @ Pavement want to possibly feature me in their next issue.  They’re doing this urban portait series of ppl in this big abandoned warehouse they found in Brooklyn somewhere, they’re going for this anti-war, sort of “post-apocolyptic” theme (don’t you fucking LOVE that phrase?).  Anyway, I don’t know exactly when everything is playing out, but I think it’d be pretty cool. 

In other news, I saw them again!  Will they NEVER stop?!  Stop taunting me!  Stop taunting me!

I somehow got slapped with a horrible schedule next week.  They cut one of my shifts, and the remaining four are ALL OVERNIGHTS.  Three of them are back-to-back, too.  Dammit.  I’ll betya it’s all backlash from the blowout with Johnson.  Whatever.  I can roll with the punches, as long as I get to toss in some of my own.  Last night, work was actually pretty good.  Fun, even.  I like it when I work with really cool ppl on the same shift and there’s a manager on duty who is on top of his shit.  My job is actually pretty fun, sometimes.

By the way, this put a bigass smile on my face when I saw it sitting on the subway seat next to me this morning.  No.36 especially made me happy, just validated my entire existance.  He’s gonna be back @ the hotel tonight… I should slide a copy of the paper under his door, with a big old smiley face drawn on it.  “Way to go!” I’ll scribble.  Yeah, man…

So much laundry, so little desire to do any of it.  It’s all just sitting in my room… idle.  Yet it grows and grows, like wild reeds in the jungles of SpriteboyWorld.

(Can you spot me?)

No, I’m not the asian kid.  That was Vip, he was my bud.  Vip had the coolest pencils, his were bright yellow with soft led and these triangular eraser caps.  I somehow knew he was trendier than the rest of us.. altho he manages to look somewhat inept and retarded here… not that I am much better, in that uglyass little mexican boy shirt.  Vip and I kicked it everyday, sometimes we let Andy play with us (he was the redheaded cowboy on the bottom right end) but only when we felt like talking to him.  In all truth, Vip and Andy were mere pawns in my social gameplan, b/c I desperately wanted to befriend Tommy, the winner in the blue shirt down on the bottom left end.  He was the leader of the pack, he could beat anybody’s ass at kickball, and I knew that buddying up to him was the only way to go.  We never really found a common ground though, and I was stuck with a “B-list” complex for the remainder of my youth.

Luckilly, I had my charms to fall back on.  The cute little girl between me and the teacher (Mrs. Swan… she played a mean piano, dude) was my girlfriend Kimberly… she’s cute, huh?  We had been cast opposite each other in the class production of “Wild Hiccup Bill” and the chemistry was just sizzling.  She was pretty and gave me a kiss one day on the slide.  We went out for awhile, until she started eating playdough.  I later dropped her ass for Erika, the tall, towering albino blonde girl on the top row.  We shared ham sandwiches one day at lunch and things just clicked from there.  She and I had a really special thing but just sort of grew apart as people, also she was a hella lot taller than me and that always makes things difficult.  Eventually I wound up with Nikkia, the beautiful Nubian princess seated next to my boy Vip.  She was double-jointed and could somehow stretch her earlobe wayyyyy out from her head, it was enthralling to watch.  I was in love right away.  She broke my heart, though.  Punked my ass for the ubercool Tommy.

I had a few loathsome enemies.  The white-trash little whore in the pink shirt to my right? that was Kristy (otherwise known as Stupid Fat Kristy).  She used to beat me up all the time.  She’d see me with my crew — we’d all be sittin atop the junglegym just kicking it and discussing the most recent ep of Dumbo’s Circus (cuz you know how we used to do) — and that’s when she’d make her move.  She’d tear up that metal contraption and, with a high-pitched war cry, LEAP onto my back like a wild hyena.  I don’t know what the fuck her parents fed her, must have been a mixture of applesauce and steriods b/c that bitch was a fucking She-Hulk.  Oh man, she would pound me into the ground, laughing her ass off and throwing sand in my face.  I never knew what I did to her, my mom always said it was b/c she probably had a crush on me but I highly doubt that (I seriously caught a “Ladies Only” vibe off of her, if you knowwhatImsayin).  My friends were no help, they were all too scared of her to even try taking her down.  But being raised by a sensitive daddy and a momma who encouraged my drama-loving self, I was not one who was afraid to let ppl see me cry.  I’d run to the schoolyard monitor, bloody and bruised (tossing in an extra little limp just to further the message), and beg for help.  Much to my chagrin, I was only scoffed at for being a sissy and instructed not to be a tattle tale.  This was just fuel to the fire which burned deep w/i my soul for the rest of my education, a fire of distrust and contempt towards all authority figures.

Also, see the seemingly sweet-faced little blond boy in the middle?  That’s Josh and he was a BITCH.  Yeah, how pissed was I when it was announced that he would get the center-spot in this pic?  I never forgave the poor boy for that mess over which he had no control, and I made him pay for that shit all year long.  I organized “Nobody Talk to Josh Day”, which was followed by a highly successful “Everybody Pick on Josh Day.”  Sadly enough, he got the last laugh when he swept in and stole the role of the ill-fated Water Bug out from under me for our end-of-the-year graduation performance of “A Little Green Frog Sittin’ in the Water.”  Josh, if you are reading this… run and hide, asshole.  It may have been 19 years ago but I have not forgotten.

What a ride through Nostalgia this kindergarten pic takes me on, I chuckled out loud when I found it.  I’m going to have to find the one where I’m rocking my bright red converse shoes b/c those were The Shit.  I remember being sort of bummed when it was announched that I wouldn’t get to sit on the front row for this picture and show them off.  But I didn’t care, man. I just jutted my shoulders out from behind my classmates right before the photgrapher yelled “Cheese!”.  I was making SURE I’d get seen. 

Even as a child, metrosexuality was a-brewing.  I was (socially) light years ahead of my time. 

Just wanted to take a quick minute to do my Friday Five.  I have seen these things on a million blogs, and you know I can’t be all out of the loop and shit, so here we go.

1. What was your most memorable moment from the last week?
   Having my little Norma Rae moment at work.


2. What one person touched your life this week?
   My old roommate Patricia took a trip to NYC last week and, in her own way, just reminded me that life happens in places that I don’t always stop to think about.  Also, President Bush took our country to war.


3. How have you helped someone this week?
   I got that Boy von Sprite into the Hudson Bar, thus securing his weekend with coolness and also reaffirming my status as Cool Guy @ the Front Desk.


4. What one thing do you need to get done by this time next week?
   My taxes.


5. What one thing will you do over the next seven days to make your world a better place?
   I plan to bathe, that will make lots of ppl happy.

Oh and all you peeps out there who read my site all the time but never sign my guestbook or tag my board? what’s up with that?  It’s like the cyber equivalent to calling my house but not leaving a message.  Sign my shit, let the world know you were here.  It’s fun and it doesn’t hurt, I promise.  It makes you taller!  It makes you taller! 

Also, I have added a new music page to my site.  My obsession with mp3’s is so out of control that it’s beginning to scare me.  Seriously, it’s getting obscene.  I have way too many songs on my computer, so I will begin sharing a little bit of my madness with all of you.  Check it daily for kickass downloads. 

I have recently been pondering the state of my melanin.  Most ppl are never sure of where on the color wheel my ethnicity falls but most assume it’s somewhere on the yellow end of things.  Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Dominican, Cuban, White-Bred American, …  With dark hair and eyes, or even with blond and blue accents, it don’t really matter; I get all kinds of hits and misses.  Well, seasons change, to everything turn turn turn, or whatever… apparently, I’m looking all kinds of wetback these days.

A random guy came up to me @ the front desk the other night and goes, “Are you from Mexico?”  There was no preface to this, no initial eye contact to invite the conversation — he didn’t even seem terribely curious to know.  Just tossed it out there for me to respond to.  Was I from Mexico?  Was he?  Did he think we knew each other from aldrededor de la manera?
Spriteboy: “No, sir, I’m not.” 
RandomGuy: “Oh.”
“I am from Texas, though.  So, you were close.”
“Oh.” (awkward pause)  “Did you see Amores Perros?”
“No.”
“Oh.  Yeah, my friend was one of the producers for it.”
“Really?” (more awkward pause) “Okay. Did you need some assistance with your room, sir?”
“Oh, did you see Y Tu Mama Tambien?”
“Yeah….”
“My friend produced that one too.”
“Ohhhh.  Are you Mexican or something?”
“Nah. But all my boys in Cali are.”
“Oh, okay.  Um, have a good night.”
“Peace.”

As the biproduct of a delightfully quirky biracial union, I am all too familiar with getting random scenarios like that. ”What are you?” total strangers will ask.  I get it a lot as an actor too.  Some ppl will bring it up under the guise of a compliment.  They say things like, what an exotic edge you carry, or how striking your features are, or (my personal fave) how “interesting a Look” you have.  It’s not really annoying or anything, it’s kinda cool that somebody notices you… but it’s not quite something you take as a compliment.  Just like when somebody remarks that you’re tall, or thin…it just becomes a THING about yourself of which you are cognizant.  At least it’s like that sometimes for me.  I’ve become much more aware of my cultural background since I moved to New York, where every cutlure melts into the other.  Then I start to wonder if I pay enough attn to my ethnicity in general.  Like, if I were about to start keepin’ it real, yo, which direction would I go in? 

I’m a third-generation Mexican-American with the other half of my roots in Ireland.  Both my parents were born and raised in Texas.  I no speaky the Spanish, or any Gaelic for that matter.  And while I found Frida to be amazing, and often enjoy the music of The Cranberries, I don’t much enjoy mass, drinking, fighting, or working with my hands too often (b/c, you know, who likes guilt, or getting dirty, sweaty, and stinky?).  I can dance around like a crazyass fool but I don’t know any traditional jaunty Irish jigs, nor can I do a sexy Mexican hat dance (not standing up anyway).  There is no grass for me to mow in Manhattan, and if there was, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to plant or harvest any potatoes from it.  Is it easier to own my browness or my greeness?  Combined, don’t they both an an uglyass color?   

I won’t feign to be a racially-fixated person simply b/c I am of biracial origin, and this is by no means a tirade about racism.  In actuality, racsim/prejudice has never been a hot topic or heavy issue in my life.  If anything, I’ve definately felt the love for my “mixed folk” heritage more than anything — it’s gotten me through the door of some very cool casting agencies.  It’s gotten me through some shady neighborhoods at odd hours of the night with no harm to my head.  It’s even gotten me kissed a few times.  But along with that, I’ve totally caught the shitty end of the stick once or twice…  I got fired from a job at a Korean deli one time b/c I made a big fuss over the little issue of NOT GETTING PAID in full.  They’d assumed I was an illegal alien who would work for free when I applied for the position (when I was really just a poor drama student trying to make some money).  I once got dumped in a McDonald’s by a girl who said I wasn’t “traditional” enough for her taste and liking — turns out, she’d assumed I was sytlin’-n-profilin’ Chinese import who was going to pay for everything we did together.  She took me to McDonald’s to dismiss me b/c in her country “girls opt for burgers and fries when they wanna tell the boy they’re not interested”.  And I can’t tell how many times I’ve been approached by pretentious-ass fools on the street, just aching to demonstrate their cultural affluence by asking me for directions in Spanish.  Ohh, the tales I could tell. 

But you know what?  Whatever.  Honey and vinegar!  Honey and vinegar!  That’s what you are to me, cruel world!  I take the bitter with the sweet!  Sing it with me, folks!  We are the world, we are the children….

Shut up, Spriteboy.  Ok.

I checked that Calvin Klein supermodel Travis out of the hotel this morning.  I was nearly blinded by the golden glow of his stunning beauty.  It was 6am and that bitch was just gleaming like R.Kelly walking back from the schoolyard playground.  His features were striking, his gaze was steely; it was glorious and demeaning and it fucking hurt my eyes, dammit.  Who the hell looks like that?!  As he sauntered across the lobby to the front desk, I had to hold my hands to my forehead just to regain full focus of my sight.  He took a spot under a shaft of light beaming in through the glass atrium above us and glanced up into the sunrise.  “Checking out.”

I nearly chucked a shoe at him.  Seriously, it was just fucking ridiculous.  My mom isn’t even that pretty.

Oddly enough, he had billing issues.  Dude, you have a mutli million dollar modeling contract with the one of the hottest designers in the world… you mean to tell me that your triflin’ Aussie ass can’t pick up the local phone charges?  There is no hope for this world, people.  Alien’s are going to come and slaughter all of us fugly ones first and if we’re lucky (or screwed… you decide) and our species somehow survives, the Beautiful People are gonna be what’s left over.  What kills me more than anything is how Travis is being touted as “the new body” for the modeling world.  Designers are apparently moving away from that pumped up, muscleboy image and are trying to move into designing clothes for a “slimmer, more boyish physque”… and that’s supposed to be Travis?    I read somewhere that he claims to have grown up on a farm and spent his childhood chasing foxes and riding around on a motorbike.  What a treasure.  How fucking quaint.  Isn’t that so very Little House on the Prarie?  That’s really lovely, Travis.  Yeah I would have loved to have done that too but I was too busy getting an education.  I really wish I could stand around like you, pouting in my spankies while ppl take pictures and plaster them all over billboards and magazine pages but those of us who were not so benevolently graced with Adonis-like genes sort of have to fall back on our skills and other learned proficiencies in order to eat.  I know that’s probably a concept you don’t fully grasp, as you’re probably used to being offered sex and gourmet meals all the time for free, so I’ll just leave this topic alone and let you stand there and be pretty.  You ignorant bitch.

And no, before any of you start with the flood of e’s, I did not get a look at the bulge.  I didn’t even wanna go there.  B/c that? would just push me over the edge.

I spent my day off sleeping in and watching TV.  I will not be ashamed.  It’s been a stressful week and I will do as I please!    But I promise to leave my room, do laundry, and go to the gym tomorrow.  I will spend at least 3 hours out in the daylight.

Commercials are helpful.  How else would I have discovered that Cher is doing that final farewell concert in a few weeks?  Oh wait I could have just looked at one of the gazillion posters plastered all over the city.  I swear I saw one glued to the bathroom stall at church, man!  That woman’s a freakin’ robot, it’s about time she let her batteries die.  I hope that concert airs soon so they quit showing the clips for it.  Yes, we all believe in life after love, already.  Go away.  [spriteboy shelds himself behind a pillow from the angry e's about to flood his inbox]

I watched that show Scrubs tonight.  That crap is funny.  Donald Faison is the perfect TV sitcom buddy, he cracks me up.  But what the the hell is Rick Schroeder doing on there?  I thought he was walking around naked on NYPD Blue or something.    I used to worship him on Silver Spoons — he had a choo-choo train up in his living room, man!  It’s good that he’s still working here and there.  Getting old, he is (but at least he’s gotten better hair). Also, I’m glad to see that Sarah Chalke found a show that wanted to keep her, I thought she got a raw deal on Roseanne.  I personally always liked Becky2 better than Becky1. 

Brittany Murphy scares me in the trailer for that movie Spun.  She needs to not make that face.

So I have been thinking about it and I have come to a conclusion: Anna Nicole Smith has got to be the dumbest mammal on the fucking planet.  Somebody please tell me that I’m not the only one who can see that this woman is straightup loon. I love it that she tried to go camping with a TV crew. With her big-boned ass, her makeup all melting off her face like wax by the campfire while she sat there deep throating pickles and singing “Kum Buy Yah, My Lord.” Oh even better? when they were fishing and she sang that song about, “.. whatchya gonna do when the creek goes dry? Sit on grandpa’s back and watch him die. Honey, baby now…” It was just too fitting, man.  Thank God for this TV show, I need something to keep me in stitches now that the Osbournes are dead.

Mr. O’Neil totally reminds me of this voice instructor I had in college.  Mr. Lancaster was the best support system I had in school, he was just so earnest and genuine and positive.  It was never over the top or annoying, he really really wanted to see us succeed as actors and totally believed we could do it through the mastery of Voice Production and Speech.  I remember I had this one comedic monologue I had to really fucking own, it called for a British accent (I was Princess Diana) and I was really nervous about getting it right.  Mr. L worked through every single line with me for weeks and weeks, hitting the inflections and punching the proper words the way a British Royal might.  When I finally showcased it in front of the faculty and audience, they were howling with laughter.  Afterwards, Mr. L ran up to me, gave me the biggest hug, and validated my existance with, “I am so proud of you!  You were AMAZING out there!”  It was really cool, I think about that all the time.  I still occassionally get various ppl — students and alumni — stopping me at Starbucks, all, “Hey, you were that Princess Diana guy!”  (It’s cute but kind of a mood-killer when you’re on a date and the asian hottie yer with is all, “Um, what am I missing here?”).

Speaking of, my favorite guests who stay @ the hotel? the japanese tourists!!!  They are so cute and inept!  They walk up to the front desk with their tiny little luggage on wheels and sort of use charades to let you know that they’re checking in, it’s ridiculously endearing to me.  They always have their rooms and reservations pre-paid to avoid any overseas fuss, they never give you attitude about the small rooms (b/c they’re a little ppl and we know how they do), and they always just have the coolest little cameras when they ask you to take pictures with them.    Ok, no really.  All racism aside, they’re just generally incredibley nice to interact with.  This may all just stem from my own deep, not-so-secret desire to be a cool asain kid.

Caught the end of that awful movie Gossip.  I remember going to see this movie with my roomates when it first came out.  The kids in this movie are all so broody and gloomy and wander around in these huge, amazing loft apartments with cascading waterfalls and illuminated floors, and they had great haircuts and clothes.  They were like these picturesque citizens of Gotham City.  We were so jealous.  I can look at this shit now and laugh out loud… who LIVES like that?  I want names.

Meanwhile, Fraternity Life is becoming one of the funniest things on TV.  These boys are bigger girls than the boring ho’s on Sorority Life.  I’m so glad I never went to regular college, watching it on MTV is way more fun.

Jonathon Taylor Thomas sort of looks like a baby camel.  I saw this really bad indie he was in called Speedway Junky, on Showtime today.  He played this little bisexual street hustler, probably did this in between seasons of Home Improvement in an attempt to shed his wholesome image or something.  It was um REALLY bad.  Taryn Manning was in it too, playing yet another little haggardly street rat.  If it ain’t broken, I guess…  I was almost in a movie with JTT, actually.  An industry contact I’d made on the set of this indie I worked on last year knew about this film being developed and submitted me for one of the roles.  The producers really liked me and I was sent a copy of the script, but it all sort of fizzled down (as is often the case in Indieland) and I haven’t heard much about it anymore.  But JTT was apparantly signed on to play the lead role, and I was up for the role of one of his best friends.  How much fun would that have been? As far as I know, it’s still lost in pre-production/financing or something… maybe it’ll get off the ground someday.  Maybe pigs will fly.  Maybe JTT will finally fess up to this.

I am still struggling with my ongoing battle against iced tea.  It’s not making my teeth any whiter!  I must stop!  But this sweet brew is like LIFE BLOOD to a Texas Boy.  You can’t stop the bumrush, kids.

My new pillows make me very happy.

Ok, let me apologize for the spite-fueled previous entry.  Blood was pumping, rage was seething, steam was furiously blowing out of my ears.  I’m sorry ya’ll had to witness that shit, I tend to get a little bit dramatic sometimes…  But I have had a good nap and am feeling all kinds of rested and serene.  Also, there are some spicy chicken cutlets roasting in the oven, a bigass mug of iced tea at my right, and I’m listening to some old school Coldplay.  Things are better, thanks much (cuz I know you were all just fucking worried to hell over it ).  I am still not happy about my job though, that place is working my every last nerve and it was just a matter of time before it made me lose my mind up in here, up in here.  Whatever, I’m working tonight and then I’m off for the next two days.  This is a scary time to be unemployed, kids… our war-riddled economy sucks.  I hate it with the burning passion of a thousand STD’s.  [Note to self: look into getting prozac]

I have to find a cool job like my friend UKMatt.  The boy sits around designing web graphic shit and reviewing video games all day, then he goes out and wanders the polychromatic streets of swinging London.  It kills me.  IT KILLS ME.

I am curiously anxious to go see that anime movie Spirited Away.  It just won an Oscar for something, which I think is pretty damn cool.  The cartoon world is all about CGI lately, so I’m happy somebody got recognized for doing it the old school way.  It’s being released in theaters this Friday and I really wanna check it… I’m still kicking myself for not going to see Metropolis.  Oh, and is it sad that I am mildly atingle about the all day Clueless marathon coming up?  That movie was the shit back in high school, ppl were all just fixated on it.  They’d rent it and have it playing on loop @ various house parties throughout the year.  I liked the show.  That mean redheaded girl was my favorite, she’s always my favorite.  Serious as cancer when I say rhythm is a dancer.

Shit.  I just rememberd I need to get my taxes done.  Must call my guy @ H&R Block and get that taken care of.  I owed major money last year b/c I’d failed to fill out my tax forms properly when I’d signed with my temp agency.  (It never occured to me that the reason my paychecks were so large was b/c I was getting NO state/city taxes taken from them).  I have since filed shit properly this time and should have a nice little refund this year.  One of the cool things about being an actor?  You get to make all kinds of deductions (movies, CD’s, haircuts, gym memberships, cellphone, cable TV, etc.) and they are completely legit write-off’s b/c they are basically “research tools” that contribute to your profession.  For awhile, I thought I wouldn’t be able to do that this year but, as it turns out, it’s all kizza.  Let the refund begin!

For the record, I so could have played the role of that geeky high school film student on Dawson’s Creek (shut up, I have to get my Michelle Williams/Kerr Smith on — I swear, those two are the only things about that show that sort of resemble what it used to be about: young dumb white kids.  Everybody else tries to act all old, tired, and world weary.  Reflective and shit, like they’ve just seen it all by the age of 20 and just barely been through it.  Fuck you, poseurs).  No, for real, where do they hold auditions for these bit roles?  I have got to get a commercial agent.  That messy haired, thick glasses-wearing, guitar-loving, bumbling persona is NOT hard to portray and I could have done it ten times better than the hack they cast.  I can totally be a nerd, as you ppl can attest. 

By the way? new polls are up. 

So I’m a little bit heated.  Here’s why:

I stroll into work this early evening and a manager, Johnson (b/c he’s a dick), informs me that the overnight guy called out sick and they want me to stay and work a double shift tonight (that means 5pm - 7am).  He asked me with a straight face and tried to convince me that it’d be good overtime.  That’s when I pointed out that they CUT my hours this week and that even if I chose to stay and pull an extra shift, it would NOT be overtime pay but merely add up to the proper 40hrs they were supposed to schedule me for in the first place.  Then he actually had the cojones to try to bargain with me like we were in Chinatown, like my availability is negotiable, like I’m some desperate little vagabond just DYING for a chance to prove my worth and loyalty to him and the company.  *sigh*  Maybe it was b/c I was raised a certain way, maybe it’s b/c I feel a deep commitment to keeping ppl impressed, or maybe it’s just b/c I’m a damn fool… but I begrudgingly agreed to stay till 3am. 

• Around 12am, he strolls out to the front desk and basically begs me to stay the full shift.  I said I’d do it only if they got MY shift covered the following night.  He wouldn’t do that.  I suggested he come up with a better offer otherwise I’d still be rolling up outta there @ 3am.


• 12:45am hits and I am told that it’s all taken care of and that I can leave @ 1:30am (the ORIGINAL end of my shift) after all.  I am assured that Johnson will just stay on through the night to cover the overnight guy.  I couldn’t help but chuckle at how lame this whole thing was getting.


• 1:30am rolls around and Johnson tries to get me to stay till 7am AGAIN, this time offering to send me home in the morning and pay for my cab.  It was not a “Meet me halfway, here” kind of thing.  It was presented as more of a “Would you just fucking quit being so difficult, already” scenario.  There was a definate Tone. 

I’m not sure what exactly triggered it, but I pretty much let all my thoughts loose.  Everything just began flooding furiously out of my mouth — how lame it is that they expect me to be able to BE READY to work past my schedule when they decide they want me to and then wanna get pissed when I say no, how fucked up it is that they STILL have me on the overnights when it was supposed to be a fucking FOUR WEEK THING, what a joke it is that they took 1.5 months to activate my pay increase, how illegal it is that I have yet to see my Retroactive Backpay, and how tonight’s dillemma should be an exploding sign to them that we are seriously understaffed and need more GUYS working the desk.  Johnson just stared at me blankly, “Chris, do you know what my title is?”   He then went on to list off all of his various titles, subtitles, and other shit that didn’t matter, only to bottom line it with: “… so do you really think that the biggest concern on the company’s mind is to hire a new person for the front desk?”    “Apparently not,” I replied.  ”So can you stay?  Yes or no?”  “I’m sorry but no,” I replied flatly.  He just shrugged and was like, “Fine.  I’ll stay for you.”  “WHAT?!” I practically laughed.  “I’ll stay for you,” he repeated with this glare of dissapproval. ”You’re not staying for me,” I clarified. “You’re staying for Robbie.  HE is the one who called out sick, remember?  HE is the one who is supposed to be here.”  Then, he (my manager) gave me the gayest little Look and said, “Ok well just remember, the next time you need something, don’t come asking me.”     That’s when I grabbed my coat, locked up my cash bank, and clocked the fuck out of that place.  I’m sorry, but scare tactics have zero effect on me.  Try using that game on somebody who’s in awe of your shit.

The ironic part is that it is now the wee hours of the morning (damn near 5am) and I am sitting up, wide awake, just typing this entry.  I totally could have made it through that shift at work… but I was not about to have ppl thinking that I’m a fucking lackey who’s gonna stay and work back-to-back with NO INCENTIVE to do so other than the useless fact that you want me to.  Yes, I probably could have handled myself better and not been such a dramaqueen (the scene wasn’t as confrontational as I probably make it sound…) but I feel like I broke some new ground tonight @ work.  Got all Norma Rae and shit.  I’m glad I said no, b/c I have gone that route before (been the good old standby) and it is not fucking worth it.  All you get is a “Thanks a lot, Chris” and maybe a nod/wink of approval… and then you become the first person they come to everytime they need somebody to do something that that nobody else will do. 

And furthermore, I will not be coerced into bearing the title of “Non Team Player” for this shit, either.  I have gone plenty an extra mile @ Hudson, put up with way too many excuses regarding my pay delays and paycheck fuckups, as well as covered many an extra shift (hell, I am picking up an extra shift this Sunday for that same damned overnight kid so he can go to some family thing).  The fact that I wouldn’t work a 14hr shift when it wouldn’t be overtime pay or payoff for me the next day with extra time off? that’s not weird!  That’s not me being uncool or stubborn — that’s me NOT being your bitch.  That’s me refusing to be obligated to a job that will only begin to demand those same things on a regular basis. 

No thanks, you can keep your “Bad Employee of the Month” dunce cap.  I will not be wearing it.