Godammit, I'm exhausted.
I spent Saturday afternoon running yet another birthday party for an overprivileged pre-teen. In actuality the child was lovely but her mom was a high-maintenance nightmare. I swear, these elaborate birthday parties for a 9 year old and fifteen of her friends are much more about the parents than they are about the kid, who I'm sure would be equally happy at a Chuck E. Cheese with a pocket full of game tokens. And as I've taken to saying lately, what's the point when the little moppet will more than likely end up 8 years from now getting high and blaming all her problems on the same people who dropped $4,000 on a 9th birthday she'll barely remember.
So I was already beat when my regular Saturday night shift started and that's just a pretty stressful night as it is. Don't get me wrong, as I said before I'm basically running the restaurant by myself these days, and I'm having a great time. I'm busy, I'm challenged and I'm totally engaged but it's a lot of work. I'm wiped by the time I get home around 2am. More so if I left the house at noon. Sunday I slept in and re-charged.
Monday I had a huge list of errands to accomplish, most importantly I had to get across town to the pharmacy as I was out of HIV meds. I'm always very conscientious about not missing a dose, however I will say I don't sweat taking my (now once a day) meds at the same exact time every day. It's usually sometime between 11 and 2, but it can be as early as 9am or as late as 3pm. I don't think I've missed a dose in over two years. There are some benefits to being a complete creature of habit. But I refuse to try and keep on an exact time. Who needs that stress and no one can convince me that the meds are on some exact 24 hr. window. I'm sure what you eat and when as well as a host of other factors would need to be figured. I'm confident just taking them at some point every day is far and away the important point.
In any case, since I had to trek across town and I've been feeling guilty about working so much and not being a good daddy for Jet I decided to take him with me. Walking across by myself is almost exactly a half hour. With a dog in tow, stopping at the Union Square run, avoiding big crushes of people and really noisy building construction turned it into well over an hour and a half there and back. And that's only because I wouldn't let him mark every tree and hydrant on the way. It takes him a while, but eventually Jet figures out this is a serious walk and he cooperates. He tends to walk a bit ahead of me, which the Dog Whisperer says is bad, but he constantly checks to see if I'm behind him and whenever we get to a crosswalk he stands right at my knee until I step in to the street. That's good enough for me.
By the time we got home and back up five flights of stairs, I was surprised when he wanted to play with some toys. Apparently it was a last burst of energy because soon after he was sacked out and snoring for about four hours. Mission accomplished.
I went back to work feeling recharged as well but I have a ton of projects piling up and it's much harder these days for me to disengage and work in the office. If it's a slow shift I can leave things in the hands of certain people, but none of them are other managers. The nightclub manager and I are really the only ones pulling any weight these days. And even that's not a complaint, but I'm wondering how long it will be before somebody actually notices. Tuesday I spent the afternoon working on payroll, which I eventually had to stop because we had another two hour birthday extravaganza to bang out, followed by a ridiculously busy live concert event that doubled as a taping for an MTV show.
Somehow, and don't ask me how, I've taken the job of gatekeeper at these events. Whenever we have a huge crowd of people for an event and a lot of guest lists to be run and cover charges to collect, you'll find me right in the middle of it trying to sort out who's who and who's not anyone. We usually spirit big name celebrities and performers in a back door. The problem is every "artist" that's laid down a vocal track and every one that knows someone that did automatically thinks a) that makes them important and b) they shouldn't have to pay a cover and c) they and all their friends should be on a guest list. I have the unenviable task of explaining your not, you do and not so much.
So I spend several hours holding back crowds of people that are "with" this label or that one. Everyone is some one's stylist or designer or make-up artist or balls shaver or some such nonsense. It's a lot of fun but again, by the end of the 13 hour day I'm done in.
People have a tendency when you're out walking your dog to try and approach you. Especially if you take some time to sit on a bench somewhere for a while. Most people have enough sense to inquire before they start anything.
"Is he friendly?"
To which I reply, "He really doesn't like strangers too much, I wouldn't bother him."
Of course by him I just mean me.
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