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.
9/1/09
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.
5/26/09
Bigots Win a Round, But No Knock Out
So a small victory goes to the small minded today, but it is a mere door stop meant to withhold a battering ram.
I am not going to investigate the depth of simple minded, hate and fear consumed, bigotry that causes people to think that there should even be a debate over whether some people are more equal than others. We are past the point of argument here. Those who understand our reasons will continue to do so, and those who do not will continue to clutch their crosses and desperately pray for a god to take their side.
The fact of the matter is that there are still 18,000 couples in California who's status as equals serves as a reminder of the progress that we have made. There are also five states states, which is a number inconceivable to activists who tirelessly toiled as little as a decade ago. The wheels of justice turn very slowly, but they do turn.
So chin up people! Working toward a cause is never easy or fluid. It is tough, riddled with ridicule, tireless work, and disappointment.
Keep fighting California!
This Texas boy is biting his lips, clenching his fists, and still believes that this fight is far from over.
I am not going to investigate the depth of simple minded, hate and fear consumed, bigotry that causes people to think that there should even be a debate over whether some people are more equal than others. We are past the point of argument here. Those who understand our reasons will continue to do so, and those who do not will continue to clutch their crosses and desperately pray for a god to take their side.
The fact of the matter is that there are still 18,000 couples in California who's status as equals serves as a reminder of the progress that we have made. There are also five states states, which is a number inconceivable to activists who tirelessly toiled as little as a decade ago. The wheels of justice turn very slowly, but they do turn.
So chin up people! Working toward a cause is never easy or fluid. It is tough, riddled with ridicule, tireless work, and disappointment.
Keep fighting California!
This Texas boy is biting his lips, clenching his fists, and still believes that this fight is far from over.
5/14/09
Another Day in Car Land
"I'm just trying to keep it rollin'. Just taking it a one day at a time," says Soul, "but damn, 789 is a big number. It'll take you some time to count there one by one. 789. Lord! Think about all the people who losing they job!"
5/12/09
Why Buy a Chrysler?
Why would anybody want to buy a gas-guzzling vehicle that requires frequent maintenance and has a significantly shorter life span than its competitors from a company that has gone bankrupt?
I have no earthly idea, but this article offers a few accurate suggestions. People are still willing to buy, which astounds me.
It looks like a lot of dealerships will be closing down soon. Ours is one of the last in town. All of the smaller dealerships have shut down or have combined the larger ones that sell Chrysler, Dodge, and Jeep. We are one of two, I think, large dealerships left, both of us on opposite ends of the city. None of the salesmen seem worried about it. Their only concern is to sell cars. That is their focus. Gotta sell a car. Nothing more.
The phones are busy, but we are selling fewer vehicles. Perhaps people are calling just to see if we are still here. Or maybe they are calling with unreasonable offers, thinking that they can wrench a better deal from the corpse-like hands of Chrysler.
Actually, they can.
If they have good credit. Most people, I have learned, do not. They are trying to live beyond their means. I see it every day. People with virtually no income, bad credit, and enormous debt are all trying to purchase brand spanking new vehicles. A couple of years ago, they would all probably have gotten approved. With this in mind, America's current financial crisis comes as no surprise to me. People like to buy things. Unreasonable things. Unsustainable things. Anything.
Every time a customers walk through our front doors and gawks at the classic automobiles on our showroom floor, they say the same thing. "I want that." A phrase, shouted by children after every commercial, three simple words that encompass the mindset of nearly every American.
Service customers are impatiently pacing around the showroom floor. Our new-car manager is introducing himself to some customers. Things are as usual. Footloose is playing over our Muzak system and Jeff, our youngest salesman, is absurdly dancing and singing into an imaginary microphone. His customers are happily walking across the lot with the keys to their new American made gas-guzzler.
Americans and American cars; they both consume too much.
I have no earthly idea, but this article offers a few accurate suggestions. People are still willing to buy, which astounds me.
It looks like a lot of dealerships will be closing down soon. Ours is one of the last in town. All of the smaller dealerships have shut down or have combined the larger ones that sell Chrysler, Dodge, and Jeep. We are one of two, I think, large dealerships left, both of us on opposite ends of the city. None of the salesmen seem worried about it. Their only concern is to sell cars. That is their focus. Gotta sell a car. Nothing more.
The phones are busy, but we are selling fewer vehicles. Perhaps people are calling just to see if we are still here. Or maybe they are calling with unreasonable offers, thinking that they can wrench a better deal from the corpse-like hands of Chrysler.
Actually, they can.
If they have good credit. Most people, I have learned, do not. They are trying to live beyond their means. I see it every day. People with virtually no income, bad credit, and enormous debt are all trying to purchase brand spanking new vehicles. A couple of years ago, they would all probably have gotten approved. With this in mind, America's current financial crisis comes as no surprise to me. People like to buy things. Unreasonable things. Unsustainable things. Anything.
Every time a customers walk through our front doors and gawks at the classic automobiles on our showroom floor, they say the same thing. "I want that." A phrase, shouted by children after every commercial, three simple words that encompass the mindset of nearly every American.
Service customers are impatiently pacing around the showroom floor. Our new-car manager is introducing himself to some customers. Things are as usual. Footloose is playing over our Muzak system and Jeff, our youngest salesman, is absurdly dancing and singing into an imaginary microphone. His customers are happily walking across the lot with the keys to their new American made gas-guzzler.
Americans and American cars; they both consume too much.
5/9/09
Not quite a poem
I first noticed the “thin line between love and hate”
That all nerds allude to
When you called me tender.
Tenderness is what our grandparents felt at the altar
And what ninjas know nothing of.
It’s dogs barking
And you altering your jeans,
meticulously. I didn’t think you could sew.
Tenderness is “This page cannot be found”
And me floundering to end your sentences
When I am fully aware that “The Newlywed Game” went off the air years ago.
It has so much less to do with me
But then, I’m writing this,
And you’re probably just glossing over it.
Rose petals are cousins of razor blades
And step-parents can mime affection without prompt.
It’s dogs barking
And you pouring over greeting cards
Until you find a phrase that meets your standards…
Or what you expect your standards to be.
So, you steal a line from Top 40 radio and I swoon
Because a line lifted is a line felt.
But ninjas wouldn’t even pause for this cold pot of coffee.
Ninjas don’t like coffee at all.
That all nerds allude to
When you called me tender.
Tenderness is what our grandparents felt at the altar
And what ninjas know nothing of.
It’s dogs barking
And you altering your jeans,
meticulously. I didn’t think you could sew.
Tenderness is “This page cannot be found”
And me floundering to end your sentences
When I am fully aware that “The Newlywed Game” went off the air years ago.
It has so much less to do with me
But then, I’m writing this,
And you’re probably just glossing over it.
Rose petals are cousins of razor blades
And step-parents can mime affection without prompt.
It’s dogs barking
And you pouring over greeting cards
Until you find a phrase that meets your standards…
Or what you expect your standards to be.
So, you steal a line from Top 40 radio and I swoon
Because a line lifted is a line felt.
But ninjas wouldn’t even pause for this cold pot of coffee.
Ninjas don’t like coffee at all.
5/7/09
prodigal daughter
That's a shitty title, but we're stuck with it. Something I read recently (I'm a champ at not being able to cite sources) talked about the Prodigal Son's real moral as one that demonstrates the fact that some people do not wish to be loved. Which if you think about it, is totally different and more poignant than the whole unconditional forgiveness Sunday school spin. Why am I talking about alternate bible interpretations? Maybe that can be, like, my thing. Tomorrow: Leviticus -- god's call for the chosen to eat fish sticks. (You're fucked Richard)
And anyway all I meant by prodigal is that I don't frequent the talkhard blog, though I intend to start. I definitely want to be loved. Like probably too much. Like probably way too much. My cat is rubbing his face raw against my laptop while I write this, I think to demonstrate that he sympathizes with my need to be lavished with affection. Or else he's just a fucking cat.
In other important global events: I hate/am jealous of people who use the phrase "meta" frequently and appropriately. As retribution I'm going to start using it as arbitrarily as possible.
Person Who Isn't Me: Hey, Nicole-- Do you believe breakfast really is the most important meal of the day, or is that just more greeting card company hullabaloo?
Me: (thoughtful pause) Meta.
Person Who Isn't Me 2: Let's play kickball!
Me: (pregnant hesitation) Meta.
Updates to follow
(but probably I'll just forget the whole experiment or bore of it. Not a lot of follow-through with this kid)
And anyway all I meant by prodigal is that I don't frequent the talkhard blog, though I intend to start. I definitely want to be loved. Like probably too much. Like probably way too much. My cat is rubbing his face raw against my laptop while I write this, I think to demonstrate that he sympathizes with my need to be lavished with affection. Or else he's just a fucking cat.
In other important global events: I hate/am jealous of people who use the phrase "meta" frequently and appropriately. As retribution I'm going to start using it as arbitrarily as possible.
Person Who Isn't Me: Hey, Nicole-- Do you believe breakfast really is the most important meal of the day, or is that just more greeting card company hullabaloo?
Me: (thoughtful pause) Meta.
Person Who Isn't Me 2: Let's play kickball!
Me: (pregnant hesitation) Meta.
Updates to follow
(but probably I'll just forget the whole experiment or bore of it. Not a lot of follow-through with this kid)
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