Let's get something straight here. Now, my job right now, being the daytime pizza chef at Old Chicago here in Tucson, isn't a dream job at all. Oh no, it's not what I studied for or championed to win or even dreamed about as a lil kid. “Oh daddy, someday I will work in a kitchen in Tucson Arizona, putting cheese on dough and yelling at a dishwasher because my knives come back crusty.” Not even close.
BUT!, and there's the thing, I actually really like my job, otherwise I wouldn't have stuck with it for three years.
Let's go back 5 years shall we? Yes, we shall. Okay, after driving all day and into the night to get to Tucson from San Francisco to be with my one true love She-Ra, I spent a week detoxing and a month riding on what very little $$$ I had saved up. My then insurgent bravado took hold and when I stepped out to hand out resumes, all at local publications, radio stations and even clubs, I thought for sure I'd be snatched up immediately and be paid the big bucks. Why? Because I'm Metal Mark dammit! I'm from San Francisco and LA! Tucson? What's so big about Tucson? I'm gonna take over this town!
Yeah, well...didn't quite happen that way.
My first job was bartending (which is what I did back in SF) at a place on 4th Avenue called The Hut. I quit after my second shift because I didn't know smoking was allowed in bars in Arizona. A busy Saturday night and there I was choking and tearing up. Since I've never smoked a cigarette and lived in California my whole life, I've become quite sensitive to smoke. So when my boss said I was taking too many breaks (just to step outside and breathe!) I threw down my towel and walked out. Funny thing was, She-Ra was on her way to visit me at work and found we walking, quite upset, and picked me up and took me home.
The DJ thing wasn't working out at all either. Basically, most have told me, even She-Ra, that the only way to make money as a DJ here in Tucson is to work at a strip club. As the bank remained empty, I swallowed what little pride I had and my fear of strip clubs and got a job at a place called the Bunny Ranch. I worked one night there. Well, not really worked, I watched the other DJ, some beefy dude that sucked on Skoal the whole night, and when I went home I told She-Ra this aint gonna work out either. But, the pressure to bring in cash was growing. So, I applied at another strip club, a slightly “higher end” establishment called Curves. I worked two shifts there: one training, the other actually helping the DJ and the dancers. That second night the guy I was training under, this wiry coke head that always wore a fedora, had me do an announcement. So I grabbed the mic, started speaking, then burst out laughing when I heard my voice over the house PA. “Now coming to the main stage is Sinnamon! Kandy, you're up next! Guys get those dollars out and take Luscious and Vixxxen to the VIP room!” I couldn't do it. The next day I broke down in tears because of the humiliation and frustration.
Luckily, She-Ra had connections.
See, she used to be the manager and administrator to the T-Rex museum, which was a science and dinosaur themed museum aimed at kids. She quit when the owners started getting greedy with the money that was coming in (all in part because of She-Ra's genius) and were forced to move from their initial location, a big building near downtown with a huge mural of the Jurassic period on the side, to a smaller one. She introduced me to Sam, the owner, some white haired hippie with a big mole on his neck, and he basically hired me right on the spot. Perfect, I thought. I love kids, I love dinosaurs and I love having a job that doesn't involve strippers and watching little bags filled with white dust be past around. Unfortunately the hours weren't what I needed so I got a job, finally, as a DJ. Yeah, not at a radio station or even a club. I hooked up with a guy that ran a “professional” DJ company. That's right, ol' Metal Mark was now wearing a tie and getting conga lines going for weddings. Some gigs were great, others were downright terrifying. Try having bridesmaid-zillas drunk on tequila yelling at you because I didn't have some bad pop song on hand, one that literally came out two days before the gig, or teenage kids jumping on the decks when I ran to the bathroom and were actually tweaking every knob and unplugging things. The gigs I thought I would fear the most, quinceaneras and a back yard BBQ party for a well to do Latino family, were actually the most fun. I just put on cumbria and tejano mixes and drank beer with the guys. Shh...don't tell my boss!
The museum, much like what they did before when She-Ra ran it, was going broke...again. The DJ company was sparse at best. So when the museum shut it's doors I landed an editing job for something called The AZ Tourist News. Great! I was doing something I was actually trained for. It was a small newspaper that pandered to, you guessed it, tourists coming to the Grand Canyon state. I wrote a few copies, sat at my desk in this weird angular building, dealt with a boss that had slicked back hair and a leather jacket with an elastic trim, ate tacos and tortas from the roach coach parked across the street and was pretty happy. Once that edition went out my boss had an ultimatum: start making cold calls and bring in money, or get out. What? Are you kidding me? So I told him I was an editor, not a telemarketer. He cut me a check and sent me on my way.
That lead to a job with the Tucson Symphony. At first I was all “Tucson has a symphony?”, but it turns out its a nice little company and I'd be doing fundraising. That job basically turned out to be, you guessed it...calling people up for donations. Yeah, this wasn't working out...at all.
Frustrated and disappointed, not to mention not writing at all, I was too preoccupied with my current position as a fish out of California waters, She-Ra asked me a simple question:
“What do you hate about jobs?”
I told her, “Two things: an office and the general public.”
She then made the suggestion to work at Old Chicago, the place she bartended, where I was beginning to know a good section of people and had become quite good friends with. Doing what?, I asked. Work in the kitchen. The kitchen? I've never worked in a kitchen before! Weighing my options and just wanting some stability, I applied and was hired rather quickly.
Two, almost three years later, I'm now the daytime pizza chef, I'm on my second book, I'm paid fairly for what I do, have full benefits and coverage and even get free beer now and then. Plus I love everyone I work with, laugh everyday, have fun and, most importantly, I'm not in an office and don't deal with the public.
So, until literary fame comes a knockin' at my door, I'll be joyfully making pizzas, calzones, strombolis and peperoni rolls for you, five days a week, from 11-5, at Old Chicago on Campbell Avenue.
Plus, when I am published, I can't wait to explain to those that will ask: “You worked as what when you wrote your book?”
A pizza chef. And it was totally rad...
Let's recap!
Food: Breakfast(s) – toast, cereal, stuff like that. Lunch(s) – sandwich one day, pizza the other. Dinner(s) – Blackened chicken with garlic roast potatoes and broccoli one night, veggie burrito the other.
Booze: Beers, shots, the norm.
Movies: “Roller Boogie”, "Valley Girl”, most of “The Dark Knight”.
Mood: Bit strained for work but overall pretty good.
# of pages written: A few. I'm almost done...
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