Imagine siting at a keyboard in an uncomfortable chair all day long doing nothing but pressing the 'Q' key over and over again and being paid to do it. At what point do you lose it and go "Floral"???
Going Floral is my equivalent of the wonderful 1980's craze of going Postal. This process involves no guns, but does require a very dull folding knife, a pair of expensive pruners with a rusty, nicked blade, 37 yards of corsage tape (light green is preferred) and the ability artfully arrange two dozen very old roses in an unconventional vase or orifice. Thorns on.
Now back to the story... Picture it ... Treasure Island, 2008
Imagine having to dumb down just to do a job. Would you? Could you? This week, I have been trapped on decrepit island in the middle of a decrepit bridge in the middle of the bay. A famous New York designer is in "town" to produce a wedding reception for wealthy clients. Well so far, he isn't in town, the "team" is. As with all successful people, the physical work is done by others. A job of this scale requires a crew of a people that work well together. And apparently people who don't mind doing mindless, agonizingly painfully boring work.
I do mind. This type of work, quite frankly is what i did when i was younger and inexperienced. Been there, Done that. Got the bad back to prove it.
When I am hired as a designer, I expect to use my skills, talent and intelligence to the benefit of the person that hired me. This is not one of those jobs. And as the little flashes of light started to appear in my field of vision, and the dull ache in my temples was just teetering on throbbing, I realized Fuck It, I need the money.
One of the things i will take from this experience, is the humor I will find in those who will boast for the next 25 years that they worked with Preston Bailey. I will find it both humorous and pathetic. We did not work with Preston Bailey. We preformed the equivalent of salting the fries at Wendy's. Dave may have come up with the burger, but Jose slaps the ketchup on and Darnell gets Karpal Tunnel shaking the salt.
No, I didn't work with Preston Bailey. I didn't expect to. I worked for his company. And for 3 days I got to do mindless repetitive boring work for which i am overqualified. Helen Keller wearing a blindfold could have done this job and still not have fucked it up.
I hope the bride and groom have a happy life together.
Going Floral is my equivalent of the wonderful 1980's craze of going Postal. This process involves no guns, but does require a very dull folding knife, a pair of expensive pruners with a rusty, nicked blade, 37 yards of corsage tape (light green is preferred) and the ability artfully arrange two dozen very old roses in an unconventional vase or orifice. Thorns on.
Now back to the story... Picture it ... Treasure Island, 2008
Imagine having to dumb down just to do a job. Would you? Could you? This week, I have been trapped on decrepit island in the middle of a decrepit bridge in the middle of the bay. A famous New York designer is in "town" to produce a wedding reception for wealthy clients. Well so far, he isn't in town, the "team" is. As with all successful people, the physical work is done by others. A job of this scale requires a crew of a people that work well together. And apparently people who don't mind doing mindless, agonizingly painfully boring work.
I do mind. This type of work, quite frankly is what i did when i was younger and inexperienced. Been there, Done that. Got the bad back to prove it.
When I am hired as a designer, I expect to use my skills, talent and intelligence to the benefit of the person that hired me. This is not one of those jobs. And as the little flashes of light started to appear in my field of vision, and the dull ache in my temples was just teetering on throbbing, I realized Fuck It, I need the money.
One of the things i will take from this experience, is the humor I will find in those who will boast for the next 25 years that they worked with Preston Bailey. I will find it both humorous and pathetic. We did not work with Preston Bailey. We preformed the equivalent of salting the fries at Wendy's. Dave may have come up with the burger, but Jose slaps the ketchup on and Darnell gets Karpal Tunnel shaking the salt.
No, I didn't work with Preston Bailey. I didn't expect to. I worked for his company. And for 3 days I got to do mindless repetitive boring work for which i am overqualified. Helen Keller wearing a blindfold could have done this job and still not have fucked it up.
I hope the bride and groom have a happy life together.
1 comment:
omfg, you are so funny to me.
please post on your blog often it makes me happy.
i love going "floral", you should write stand up.
c
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