___
I live on the outskirts
In the servant houses
Of the rich
With my one good suit
Gripping a Bordeaux
Gaping at the opulence
Across the window
Looking in
Like Fitzgerald
Fettered
Not having
In weakness wanting
Faking
Peering
Through windshield glass
For a prize worth taking
Breaking a barrier
Barring the wealth
Thinking of dealing
To make a living
Without stealing
Ineffectual Intellectual
With a nametag
And wet dynamite
Beneath my ribcage
A library card
And a mouth of pulled
Teeth
A crook
Me
Guilty of being
More free than free
Brave with failure
And unsatisfied
With the opulence
Across the window
11/19/09
Shopping At Wallmart
___
I can’t afford not to be here,
Among the morbidly obese,
Hobbling down the aisles
With their fat children,
Who know no better
Than the deer hunters,
The patriots,
Stockpiling rifles,
Pistols and canned foods,
To protect themselves
From me.
I can’t afford not to be here,
Among the morbidly obese,
Hobbling down the aisles
With their fat children,
Who know no better
Than the deer hunters,
The patriots,
Stockpiling rifles,
Pistols and canned foods,
To protect themselves
From me.
11/18/09
Stephen Paul Skinner
Our new 2010 Trucks have heated steering wheels. That's right. Your ultra sensitive truck driving hands will never have to feel the icy sting of the wheel again. If you read about the history of Chrysler from their perspective, you will learn that Chrysler has patented more innovations that Ford and GMC combined. Things like heated steering wheels are, in my opinion, along the same line as bacon flavored mayonnaise, useless, excessive, and utterly American.
Our new sales guy has been in the car business for years. When I ask him if he could change his name to any other than the one he has, he tells it would be Stephen Paul Skinner. He scratches his freckled bald head, puts his mouth to a make shift blowgun and *pops* a stray balloon at the ceiling. "Push pins," he says, utterly delighted with himself. "It shoots push pins. Do you got any?" When I ask him why he chose that name, he tells me that his birth mother gave him that name before she put him up for adoption. She didn't want his birth certificate to not have a name. It was eventually changed by his adopted parents, and he learned his original name years later.
Stephen Paul Skinner.
His one link to his mother. Three proper nouns. They give cause to wonder. Stephen Paul Skinner loads up another push pin and *pop* goes another balloon. The phone calls are flooding in. Customers are looking to get their vehicles fixed, looking to complain, every once in a while one will want to buy a new vehicle. Something that is reliable, affordable, and gets good gas mileage. Most of them won't be able to afford anything, which shouldn't come as a surprise in this economy. This is a time for cutbacks. HEB brand groceries and cheap toilet paper. But if any of you need a heated steering wheel in your giant-ass pick up truck, I have one question for you.
Really?
Our new sales guy has been in the car business for years. When I ask him if he could change his name to any other than the one he has, he tells it would be Stephen Paul Skinner. He scratches his freckled bald head, puts his mouth to a make shift blowgun and *pops* a stray balloon at the ceiling. "Push pins," he says, utterly delighted with himself. "It shoots push pins. Do you got any?" When I ask him why he chose that name, he tells me that his birth mother gave him that name before she put him up for adoption. She didn't want his birth certificate to not have a name. It was eventually changed by his adopted parents, and he learned his original name years later.
Stephen Paul Skinner.
His one link to his mother. Three proper nouns. They give cause to wonder. Stephen Paul Skinner loads up another push pin and *pop* goes another balloon. The phone calls are flooding in. Customers are looking to get their vehicles fixed, looking to complain, every once in a while one will want to buy a new vehicle. Something that is reliable, affordable, and gets good gas mileage. Most of them won't be able to afford anything, which shouldn't come as a surprise in this economy. This is a time for cutbacks. HEB brand groceries and cheap toilet paper. But if any of you need a heated steering wheel in your giant-ass pick up truck, I have one question for you.
Really?
11/12/09
Snap into a bad romance!
Okay, I'll admit it. I love the new Lady Gaga video. Huge news in Gaga Land everybody! Is Lady Gaga the new Slim Jim mascot? Macho Man would be proud.
10/2/09
Dire September
Another salesperson is gone. Blake, who sauntered in with confidence and sunglasses. Blake was a closer. He told me himself. But he also joined the business during the month of September, which was surprisingly slow. Nobody did well this month. Somebody had to go. There will probably be more to follow. A dire September.
Bonnie thinks that September is slow because the Cash for Clunkers program pulled a lot of buyers out of the market during August. This article supports her assumption.
As I have mentioned in earlier blogs, salespeople don't like to look back. There is no paycheck in the past. You can't eat it or live in it. However, after a month like September, looking back becomes necessary. The furthest back you look in sales is 30 days. No further. And now the repercussions of September are being felt. Management is experimenting with the fine details of how the dealership is run, hoping that a slight change here or there might be the golden trigger.
The sales staff will bend and fold as they need. Anything to sell a car. "October is going to be great!" says Alfredo. "And know how I know why? 'Cause nothing can be worse than September." He's right. His optimism is the trademark of the salesperson. Doubt can lead to a poor performance, which is a quick ticket out of here. Alfredo will do fine, and so will this dealership because the sales team here are always looking forward. That is the golden trigger. They will keep on pulling it until it fires.
Bonnie thinks that September is slow because the Cash for Clunkers program pulled a lot of buyers out of the market during August. This article supports her assumption.
As I have mentioned in earlier blogs, salespeople don't like to look back. There is no paycheck in the past. You can't eat it or live in it. However, after a month like September, looking back becomes necessary. The furthest back you look in sales is 30 days. No further. And now the repercussions of September are being felt. Management is experimenting with the fine details of how the dealership is run, hoping that a slight change here or there might be the golden trigger.
The sales staff will bend and fold as they need. Anything to sell a car. "October is going to be great!" says Alfredo. "And know how I know why? 'Cause nothing can be worse than September." He's right. His optimism is the trademark of the salesperson. Doubt can lead to a poor performance, which is a quick ticket out of here. Alfredo will do fine, and so will this dealership because the sales team here are always looking forward. That is the golden trigger. They will keep on pulling it until it fires.
9/1/09
The New Guy
Soul got hit by a car. Twice. So he won't be back for a while. One of our new guys is sitting in his office. Lucky break. His name is Angel. His brother used to work here months ago. Angel is from Puerto Rico.
Margaret needs a good trial lawyer who will work for the fees of a court appointed attorney. I tell her that she would need to find somebody with an altruistic streak to who would take on her son's case. I don't tell her that I believe it is hopeless for him.
The month is over. Final numbers are being turned in.
Angel sits in Soul's desk, going over paperwork. I like him. He is excitable, and commands himself like this dealership is a schoolyard playground. He believes that his life is beautiful. That he or anybody can make it in America. He falls in love with every woman he sees. Sincerely. Every woman he sees is America. He is brimming with confidence. With expectation.
He hasn't sold a car yet.
Marcos comes up to my desk to check out. He needs to go to the bank. I ask him why nobody has taken their day off today, and why everybody is here early. "We didn't sell enough cars last month. No days off." Another seventy-two hour week for the guys.
My switchboard rings. I answer the line and the voice on the other end asks for Angel. I connect the call and watch Angel's grin fall from his face. He places Soul's phone back on the receiver. "Not this time," he says to himself. I feel sorry for him. I am sad that he came to Texas of all places from Puerto Rico. I am sad that he came when he did, during these hard times, particularly for Chrysler. I wonder if he will learn. Change. Become a true blue salesman. Live a life dominated by contracts and closing deals. I just don't see that happening to Angel, but he will hold on because this job is America to him.
This business will destroy him.
Margaret needs a good trial lawyer who will work for the fees of a court appointed attorney. I tell her that she would need to find somebody with an altruistic streak to who would take on her son's case. I don't tell her that I believe it is hopeless for him.
The month is over. Final numbers are being turned in.
Angel sits in Soul's desk, going over paperwork. I like him. He is excitable, and commands himself like this dealership is a schoolyard playground. He believes that his life is beautiful. That he or anybody can make it in America. He falls in love with every woman he sees. Sincerely. Every woman he sees is America. He is brimming with confidence. With expectation.
He hasn't sold a car yet.
Marcos comes up to my desk to check out. He needs to go to the bank. I ask him why nobody has taken their day off today, and why everybody is here early. "We didn't sell enough cars last month. No days off." Another seventy-two hour week for the guys.
My switchboard rings. I answer the line and the voice on the other end asks for Angel. I connect the call and watch Angel's grin fall from his face. He places Soul's phone back on the receiver. "Not this time," he says to himself. I feel sorry for him. I am sad that he came to Texas of all places from Puerto Rico. I am sad that he came when he did, during these hard times, particularly for Chrysler. I wonder if he will learn. Change. Become a true blue salesman. Live a life dominated by contracts and closing deals. I just don't see that happening to Angel, but he will hold on because this job is America to him.
This business will destroy him.
7/11/09
Joose it up!
JOOOOOOOOOOOOSE!
What can I say? I'm a marketing whore, and though I don't think that Joose was target marketed to guys like me, I still couldn't resist the appeal of a drink that promised a whopping 9.9% alcohol content. Juice it up!
I wasn't expecting much. Though, at the time, I did not know that Joose is an energy drink/malt liquor beverage...thing. I thought it was booze only, without the energy. It tasted like sweet tarts mixed with cough syrup. I couldn't swallow it. Also, upon spitting the terrible tasting drink (I bought the Jungle Joose flavor) into my kitchen sink, I discovered that it was bright green in color. Fucking gross. I guess it is supposed to look like candy, or MD 20/20.
After brushing my teeth, I checked out the Joose website, jammed out the the Joose Player, looked at some "Joosen" party people, and came to the conclusion that I couln't ever have that time back. Or my money.
(Sigh) Looks like the only thing I'll be "Joosen" up are my massive pecks.
7/6/09
Goodbye Mr. Kidd
At approximately 12:09 in the afternoon, Mr. Jason Kidd placed two bean and cheese tacos on my desk and then announced that he was leaving our dealership. As I have mentioned numerous times, auto sales is a migratory business. Sales staff flock from dealership to dealership like birds at the change of seasons. It was inevitable, therefore, that Jason Kidd would leave us, as will all of these sales people eventually. It fazes nobody. As I ate my tacos, I listened to the sales staff quietly mutter variations of a phrase containing the words Jason and gone. But business continues as usual. Tomorrow, the only people who remember him here will be his customers and me.
I am sad to see him go.
I genuinely enjoyed working with Jason, who had been survived being shot in the face when he was younger, and had the scars to prove it. One time, Jason convinced me that his father-in-law was involved in some famous dealings with a well known Texas politician and I was so thrilled to hear the story that I relayed it to some friends only to learn that he was telling me the plot to the movie Charlie Wilson's War. But Jason could tell a story with such innocent elation it made me want to believe him. And I think I do.
He also helped to get me on the CAD grant review panel by introducing me to one of his customers, who was none other than the city grant coordinator. He encouraged me to not give up on my quest to embark on the same path that every salesperson eventually takes: the path that leads away from here. He would always joke that once I had a real career I could take him out to dinner.
And I will.
I am sad to see him go.
I genuinely enjoyed working with Jason, who had been survived being shot in the face when he was younger, and had the scars to prove it. One time, Jason convinced me that his father-in-law was involved in some famous dealings with a well known Texas politician and I was so thrilled to hear the story that I relayed it to some friends only to learn that he was telling me the plot to the movie Charlie Wilson's War. But Jason could tell a story with such innocent elation it made me want to believe him. And I think I do.
He also helped to get me on the CAD grant review panel by introducing me to one of his customers, who was none other than the city grant coordinator. He encouraged me to not give up on my quest to embark on the same path that every salesperson eventually takes: the path that leads away from here. He would always joke that once I had a real career I could take him out to dinner.
And I will.
6/29/09
The Numbers
Chrysler has already been bought by Fiat and many dealerships were forced to shut down in the process. Now, in the aftermath of the storm, our numbers are slowly building back upward. Managment is pleased.
We had to hire new employees to handle all of the new customers who would have normally gone to the other dealerships that have closed down. Many of their former staff were also at my desk, borrowing pens, filling out applications, waiting, waiting to speak to anybody who might hire them.
A few of them were taken in. Those who weren't just moved on to apply at the next dealership. They'll find a job. That is the nature of sales. It is migratory. Salespeople are like basketball cards, collected and traded by dealerships.
Margaret passes by my desk. "Have you read any good books lately?" she asks in her shattered glass voice. "Not in the past six weeks," I tell her, "but I'll probably be reading more now that I am finished my work for the City." She smiles, lips clenched together and walks toward the sales tower. She is always asking me for books to recommend for her son.
Marcos is sitting quitely his office with his hand over is mouth. His eyes are looking in my direction, but they look through me, as if he is deep in thought. He rises from his desk and walks outside to scan the lot. His grey hair shimmers in the morning light. He spots a customer by the yellow Ram 1500 and moves in to greet him. I wonder what he was thinking about. I should have asked him. He probably would have responed, "selling cars," whether he meant it or not.
We had to hire new employees to handle all of the new customers who would have normally gone to the other dealerships that have closed down. Many of their former staff were also at my desk, borrowing pens, filling out applications, waiting, waiting to speak to anybody who might hire them.
A few of them were taken in. Those who weren't just moved on to apply at the next dealership. They'll find a job. That is the nature of sales. It is migratory. Salespeople are like basketball cards, collected and traded by dealerships.
Margaret passes by my desk. "Have you read any good books lately?" she asks in her shattered glass voice. "Not in the past six weeks," I tell her, "but I'll probably be reading more now that I am finished my work for the City." She smiles, lips clenched together and walks toward the sales tower. She is always asking me for books to recommend for her son.
Marcos is sitting quitely his office with his hand over is mouth. His eyes are looking in my direction, but they look through me, as if he is deep in thought. He rises from his desk and walks outside to scan the lot. His grey hair shimmers in the morning light. He spots a customer by the yellow Ram 1500 and moves in to greet him. I wonder what he was thinking about. I should have asked him. He probably would have responed, "selling cars," whether he meant it or not.
6/26/09
Don't You Know, Baby Yeah Yeah
It's only now that he's dead that I think of Michael Jackson as the child he never ceased to be.
His first indelible impression on me came via a VH1 mini-series version of his young life. That horrendously abusive father who tortured his children toward talent, until one of them (young precious darling Michael) fulfilled those Jehovah's witness prayers. It seemed cruel that the young Jacksons were whipped with sapling switches and forced into state fairs and talent shows, but Michael was beatific enough to unravel the torture; he almost gave it depth.
The extent of his childhood idyll was demonstrative of a deeply stunted man. Adulthood seemed to be forced on him. He acted out abusively, effectively alienating himself from societal norms. In the end his astonishing feats were overshadowed by his embarrassing behavior.
It's easy to be a post-mortem apologist, trite even, but it’s coming more naturally to me than I would’ve expected.
**This is incomplete, but it won't stay timely for long. Figured I'd post now -- flesh it out later. I take back the "this doesn't make me sad" comment. It just took awhile to move away from "wow, something is really HAPPENING!?" You know?
His first indelible impression on me came via a VH1 mini-series version of his young life. That horrendously abusive father who tortured his children toward talent, until one of them (young precious darling Michael) fulfilled those Jehovah's witness prayers. It seemed cruel that the young Jacksons were whipped with sapling switches and forced into state fairs and talent shows, but Michael was beatific enough to unravel the torture; he almost gave it depth.
The extent of his childhood idyll was demonstrative of a deeply stunted man. Adulthood seemed to be forced on him. He acted out abusively, effectively alienating himself from societal norms. In the end his astonishing feats were overshadowed by his embarrassing behavior.
It's easy to be a post-mortem apologist, trite even, but it’s coming more naturally to me than I would’ve expected.
**This is incomplete, but it won't stay timely for long. Figured I'd post now -- flesh it out later. I take back the "this doesn't make me sad" comment. It just took awhile to move away from "wow, something is really HAPPENING!?" You know?
6/19/09
TalkHard Issue 3
Here is TalkHard issue 3.
(Click an image to enlarge)
Cover Art by Manik Nakra
We are dead serious about Murderparty.
6/18/09
Next issue news/updates
Hello everybody. I just want to let you all know that the next issue of TalkHard is in the works and we are hoping to put it out in July. We'll keep you posted on what is going on.
This has been a busy month for us, due to a few other projects that we're working on. We should have more regular updates after June 25!
Thanks to everybody who came out to the Boho Coco Show. See you again at the next one.
This has been a busy month for us, due to a few other projects that we're working on. We should have more regular updates after June 25!
Thanks to everybody who came out to the Boho Coco Show. See you again at the next one.
6/16/09
Something is Rotten in the City of Austin
From the Boho Coco show at Co-Lab!
It was a fun show, and there will be many more!
It was a fun show, and there will be many more!
6/5/09
TALKHARD ARCHIVE: ISSUE 2
We were still getting our margins right with issue 2, so some small parts were accidentally cut out. Below is the issue with notes on what was cut out beneath the respective pages.
Click on an image to increase its size.
Click on an image to increase its size.
We got a lot of emails about this one. The last sentence reads, "While I don't intend to ever make a career of this work, it will always be connected to me."
Nobody really noticed this accidental cut because it was so obscure. See the asterisk after Happy Thanksgiving? On the bottom of the page there was another asterisk with the note: "TalkHard Magazine does not condone the celebration of Thanksgiving."
This back cover is the one of which I am the most proud. I truly feel that this picture represented how Austin was changing, especially having seen my friends forced out of their apartments, where were being converted into high priced condos.6/2/09
TALKHARD ARCHIVE: ISSUE 1
The first issue of TalkHard from Oct 2007.
Click on an image to increase its size.
Click on an image to increase its size.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
