I've come back for one more update. Mr. S. died last year. Its been so long since I was writing this that I think its best that I try not to eulogize.
Looking at all this, it won't be difficult to figure out who he is if you really look into it, but my concealing names is still... I dunno, a formality? I never asked for permission to write this, so it seemed wrong to divulge names of real people, even when obvious.
To his family, if you ever find this, I hope you won't be too upset with what I've written; maybe you'll even like it, I don't know. I mean, you all know him better than the glimpse that I repeated here. If you would like to contact me for any reason, please feel free to.
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Thursday, September 21, 2017
I found this old blog from years ago, and realized that I left it without an ending. I was fired not long after the last post. Mr.S said it was because I was not driven as a salesperson; he might have been right but I can't help but wonder if it was more that he just didn't want to keep me long enough to deal with taxes, because that seems about right for him. Being fired meant being unemployed again... for a while. Before too long though the company I had worked at previously as a concept artist gave me my old job back, and I'm still in New Orleans. I still walk by the gallery once in a while on my lunch break; I don't go in but I take a peek through the windows. I haven't seen Mr. S there in a while, not sure if he's finally retired or...?
As much as I may still gripe about work sometimes, I have to say that working for Mr. S took the cake for bad jobs. Mr. S was about as complicated as human beings come. He was usually intolerable to be around, came from a background that seems deplorable yet makes sense given the time and place he came from. I still can't help but give him some sort of... I don't know, not a pass, but I just don't want to condemn his memory. He was so human; surrounded by this gallery of treasures which was a monument to everything that he built up in his life, yet so fragile as he slumped at his desk in the middle of it, seeming to defy time to do its worse, cussing and spitting in the face of fate even as he slowly succumbed to it.
I can't help but think that this story has something to it, though its not what I thought it would be while writing it.
As much as I may still gripe about work sometimes, I have to say that working for Mr. S took the cake for bad jobs. Mr. S was about as complicated as human beings come. He was usually intolerable to be around, came from a background that seems deplorable yet makes sense given the time and place he came from. I still can't help but give him some sort of... I don't know, not a pass, but I just don't want to condemn his memory. He was so human; surrounded by this gallery of treasures which was a monument to everything that he built up in his life, yet so fragile as he slumped at his desk in the middle of it, seeming to defy time to do its worse, cussing and spitting in the face of fate even as he slowly succumbed to it.
I can't help but think that this story has something to it, though its not what I thought it would be while writing it.
Friday, September 12, 2014
So, the chosen cannon fodder (CCF, for now) starts today; I just showed her around the gallery and tried to let her know what she is getting herself into. While showing her around I got a call from Elsa, who got in a fender bender on her way to work. I had to cut the call short, but it sounds like everything is ok with nobody getting hurt. I tried calling her again after I got done showing CCF around, and wasn't able to reach her. Will try calling her again soon.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
So this morning, before he left, Mr.S tasked me with bringing down the write-ups (paperwork with information about the paintings) for the paintings that got moved down to the 1st floor from other floors, and bringing up the write-ups for those from the 1st floor that got moved up. Part of that whole mess from moving the paintings around yesterday.
My discovery, after he left, is that none of this paperwork is where it is meant to be. I just spent the entire day trying to locate and relocate these stupid folders, ending up having to write down a list of every painting on every floor so that I could figure out where everything was going. As it turns out this man can drive me crazy even when he isn't in the building.
The worst part; I know that he is going to get in tomorrow, figure out what I haven't done, and yell at me for having gotten nothing done.
My discovery, after he left, is that none of this paperwork is where it is meant to be. I just spent the entire day trying to locate and relocate these stupid folders, ending up having to write down a list of every painting on every floor so that I could figure out where everything was going. As it turns out this man can drive me crazy even when he isn't in the building.
The worst part; I know that he is going to get in tomorrow, figure out what I haven't done, and yell at me for having gotten nothing done.
At this point I have lost interest in, as well as lost track of, the cannon fodder. Yesterday was a slog, but having had Monday off (Labor Day) let me relax enough to once again see the (dark) humor in the job. Yesterday Mr.S's wife came in, as she tends to do on Tuesdays. Usually I like having her in the gallery because it diverts his attention, and lightens his mood. But not yesterday.
Yesterday, she decided that she did not like where the new ballerina painting had been hung, demanding a change. So, despite the fact that the previous piece to hang in that spot (of a woman in a pink dress) had been moved by N to the 3rd floor, it was brought back down. However, according to her that had NOT been the piece hanging there before; I know for certain that it was, but senility does horrible things. She demanded that we bring down a different painting, in this case a portrait of a woman in a garden, and hang that up instead. So, we lugged the lady in pink painting back to the elevator, and brought that one down. However, then Mr.S decided that he didn't want the new ballerina painting up on the third floor, so we brought it back down, and when Mrs.S saw it she dramatically exclaimed "don't I have a say in ANYTHING any more?"
In the end, the lady in the garden ended up in the original spot, a pointillist painting to the other side of the window was taken down to make room for the ballerinas. Those will be hung back upstairs later. It felt like a game of musical chairs but with paintings and old people telling everyone where to go but not remembering what they had previously said to do. To top it off, he decided to order food in because for some reason he couldn't go to his usual restaurant, which meant we couldn't get him out of the gallery for that short bit of time that lets us relax a bit.
Oh well, its Wednesday, which means he will be out soon to take the rest of his day off.
Yesterday, she decided that she did not like where the new ballerina painting had been hung, demanding a change. So, despite the fact that the previous piece to hang in that spot (of a woman in a pink dress) had been moved by N to the 3rd floor, it was brought back down. However, according to her that had NOT been the piece hanging there before; I know for certain that it was, but senility does horrible things. She demanded that we bring down a different painting, in this case a portrait of a woman in a garden, and hang that up instead. So, we lugged the lady in pink painting back to the elevator, and brought that one down. However, then Mr.S decided that he didn't want the new ballerina painting up on the third floor, so we brought it back down, and when Mrs.S saw it she dramatically exclaimed "don't I have a say in ANYTHING any more?"
In the end, the lady in the garden ended up in the original spot, a pointillist painting to the other side of the window was taken down to make room for the ballerinas. Those will be hung back upstairs later. It felt like a game of musical chairs but with paintings and old people telling everyone where to go but not remembering what they had previously said to do. To top it off, he decided to order food in because for some reason he couldn't go to his usual restaurant, which meant we couldn't get him out of the gallery for that short bit of time that lets us relax a bit.
Oh well, its Wednesday, which means he will be out soon to take the rest of his day off.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
And here is CF3.
Saw CF3 waiting to go in while getting back from lunch. Wasn't sure, but sounds like another Westbank one. Interesting that we aren't getting any men applying for this position. Mr.S talks too much for these interviews, doesn't ask enough questions, and I wonder if these poor women understand what he is talking about... or what they are getting themselves into.
Oh god, he is telling this one that she'll have to drive him home.
She previously worked for Oschner. Considering that she seems to have some hospital experience maybe she'll be used to the type of stress that this place entails. Or maybe she is trying to get away from that stress. Anyway, good luck CF3, you'll need it. Not for getting the job (believe it or not, you're lucky if you don't) but you'll need the luck in dealing with this old geezer if you get the job.
CF4 is now being interviewed; another Westbank applicant. She is catching him later in the day which means he is more tired, thus less coherent. I can tell she is struggling to understand. And now he is interrupting the interview for his cell phone... she seems not into it. Wouldn't be surprised if she turns the job down if it is offered.
Interestingly, so far Mr.S seems to be leaning towards CF1, who I though was instantly disqualified due to being Westbank. However, unlike all the others so far she showed interest in the art on the walls, and that is something that Mr.S liked. Looks like Mr.S isn't totally out of it yet mentally speaking; just enough to make our lives hell without being so far gone that he would make it easier by not being able to come in.
Saw CF3 waiting to go in while getting back from lunch. Wasn't sure, but sounds like another Westbank one. Interesting that we aren't getting any men applying for this position. Mr.S talks too much for these interviews, doesn't ask enough questions, and I wonder if these poor women understand what he is talking about... or what they are getting themselves into.
Oh god, he is telling this one that she'll have to drive him home.
She previously worked for Oschner. Considering that she seems to have some hospital experience maybe she'll be used to the type of stress that this place entails. Or maybe she is trying to get away from that stress. Anyway, good luck CF3, you'll need it. Not for getting the job (believe it or not, you're lucky if you don't) but you'll need the luck in dealing with this old geezer if you get the job.
CF4 is now being interviewed; another Westbank applicant. She is catching him later in the day which means he is more tired, thus less coherent. I can tell she is struggling to understand. And now he is interrupting the interview for his cell phone... she seems not into it. Wouldn't be surprised if she turns the job down if it is offered.
Interestingly, so far Mr.S seems to be leaning towards CF1, who I though was instantly disqualified due to being Westbank. However, unlike all the others so far she showed interest in the art on the walls, and that is something that Mr.S liked. Looks like Mr.S isn't totally out of it yet mentally speaking; just enough to make our lives hell without being so far gone that he would make it easier by not being able to come in.
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