Monument to The Conquerors of Space Travel:
Hotel Cosmopolitan (Moscow):
So, unemployment. Intermission. I can just pick up and write anytime. Begin anywhere. Grab an idea mid-thought or snag a random pic out my IPHOTO and allow it to conjure that same familiar, detached groundlessness I feel today. Only in these pics it was Moscow and that vulnerable aloneness of the strange new country. And language. With no friends due to arrive for 6 hours.
I was the 1st to land in Moscow. It took me a long time to clear Customs (apparently 'cause I was too dense to see they wanted a bribe); but my guide at the airport located me quickly and drove me to the hotel. At least he said he was my guide. Could have been anyone I suppose as he drove the anonymous black sedan thru the grey, dank industrial clouds and piss-rain of Moscow.
They say all foreigners stay at The Cosmopolitan. At least back then they did. My Polish friends insist that its rooms are bugged and that the clerks are all KGB. Normally I’d dismiss their comments as the paranoid scars of their Eastern Europe heritage; but the first thing the smoking-hot desk clerk did was take my passport.
“Hey,” I told her. “Aren’t I gonna need that back?”
“You’re to be here a whole week--no?” she asked with a stern countenance.
“Yeah, but.... I mean. Don’t I need my passport to get around?”
She looked at me from her hard, blue, evaluative eyes.
“...We’ll keep it here for you,” she said with a tight smile. “It’ll be safe.”
As the bellman led me to my room we passed the lounge full of cocktail girls situated directly next to the elevators. Hard to say if their night was starting or ending since they lived their days on hotel time. Oblivious to hours. Cognizant only of work-shifts. To the rhythms of commuter subways and international flights. The bellman took a moment in which he seemed to allow me to chose a favorite for later, then led me to the elevators, and to my room, before he slowly left.
...And then suddenly, I was alone. No friends for another six hours. No knowledge of Russian whatsoever. No passport as the sun slowly descended. I turned on the television for some comfort, but what I saw on Russian MTV scared me so bad I had to turn it off.
I walked to the windows. Parted the drapes. Outside, ‘cross the street was what I now know to be the the Yuri Gagarin monument. The Monument to the Conquerors of Space Travel.
Course I didn’t know its specific symbolism then. I just saw a strange phallic spaceship poised straight towards the sun. With thin metallic skin that conveyed so much sleek power and speed I had to rub my jet-lagged eyes to convince myself it would remain fixed in place.
I 'd planned to walk across the street to inspect the sculpture more closely, but as I continued to stare out my window the trip caught up with me and I began to drift to sleep. A foreign traveler holed-up in his hotel room. With no passport. No friends or family near. Descending into sleep in the hotel's cheaply upholstered chair, where the world I'd known slowly faded into intermission.
The view from my room's window at The Hotel Cosmopolitan* (*Double-click on pic for Full-view):
Speaking of birthdays, big shout-out to Stax recording legend (and former Detroiter) Eddie "Knock on Wood" Floyd, who turned 74 on Saturday. You still look and sound great man!!!w/ Eddie Floyd (right) at the Legends of Stax show last night. 
Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band cover Eddie Floyd's Raise Your Hand* (1978): *(audio not quite in-sync)
Jeff Beck and Imelda May at Les Paul Tribute last year: 
Lodo Grdzak (right) w/ Imelda May at Les Paul Tribute last year:
Happy 67th Birthday to our personal favorite here at Intermission--Mr. Jeff Beck! Here's to many (many!) more. * NOTE: The photo of Jeff Beck at the top of this post was stolen off Google Images and is most likely copyrighted. All other pics owned by Lodo Grdzak. All rights reserved.
38 year old champion Jason Kidd:
Dallas (and former Detroit Pistons) coach--Rick Carlisle. Congratulations man!!!
The great Kanye West: 
w/ Ms. Lulu (left):
So now I’m unemployed. No work, no obligations, no structure. So why bother with the formalities of paragraphs or punctuation? Or narrative continuity. Who cares? Start at the end. Tell (2) stories at once. Or more. A whole medley of stories in one post, strung-out erratically like a James Brown concert. Can’t find the bridge? I’d help you but I’m on intermission. Intermission from what I’m not exactly sure; but what can you be sure of in a world where the Dallas Mavericks can sweep Kobe Bryant plus spank Dwyane Wade and Lebron James on their home court? Great stuff. Course my unemployed ass could have used a game 7. I’ve got plenty of time for overtime.
"You’re telling me you wont accept that check Lodo?"
"That’s exactly what I’m telling you."
"Boy you’re full of yourself aren’t ya?"
"I didn’t like the way you tried to shake my confidence. And to criticize my reports was stupid. You should have chosen something else."
"...Well, I can’t keep you on salary; but you can work per diem if you want. I’ll pay you $25.00/hour.”
“I told you Barry, I don’t trust you. Not your judgement and not your character. I thought the quality of my stuff was no good--remember? But suddenly its improved enough for me to do hourly work?”
“Well, I ...”
“And when would I get paid? You can’t pay me on time now; but you’re gonna pay me when I’m an independent? Please. Today’s June 10th and I still haven’t got paid for May.”
“Wel.."
“Come on man. Give it a rest. And send me those COBRA forms. I don’t wanna get dropped--again!”
June 10th. Christ, that was already awhile ago. 38 year old Jason Kidd my not have even won his 1st ring yet. Kept his eye on the prize Lodo, like you have to do. But you have to feel like you deserve it. Believe it--that’s key. Like Kanye said, "In two years Dwayne Wade became Dwyane Wade." Doesn't always take long. Stay committed. Work hard. Capitalize on your talents. Success can happen seemingly overnight. Write your book. Commit yourself to it, like Ms. Lulu said:
"Forget the blog Lodo--its served its purpose. You’ve got your style down now. You’ve always believed in yourself, but you should commit to yourself more. There's a difference."
"Forget the blog?"
"Yeah Lodo, it detracts from your book. That's what you should be working on. Maybe now's the time. What d’ya think?"
"I don’t think people read books. Besides, my days of being ambitious are over. I’m on intermission now and the world likes me better this way."
"Course it does Lodo, ‘cause you’re out of their way. But are you on intermission from the world or yourself?"
"I don't know. When I do I'll write my book."
Dwyane Wade gets as high as he needs to go:
Super-legend James Brown:
* NOTE: Pic numbers 2, 3, 4, and 5 (from the top) were stolen off Google and are probably subject to copyright.
Thanks to anyone who's returned to Intermission despite our diminished output and visual quality these last weeks. While I can assure you there are good reasons for the delays, I can't promise any resolution in the near future. But we'll get to that.
Returning to our original story; the conversation mentioned in my previous post took place around the 2nd week of April. "Gotta increase your billing Lodo. Improve your quality or we cant keep you...at least, not at the same compensation level."
Okay reader. Sure my boss and Jimmy were full of shit, but I was at least prepared to go thru the motions of generating that extra billable hour or two a day; or making that meaningless, cosmetic change to my report's introductory paragraph that seemed to so irk poor Jimmy.
But as April went on, I received no new assignments. I had casework leftover from previous investigations, so I worked those to the bone. Dredged them for any and all possible billable hours I could generate; and to my credit, I still managed to produce close to 40 billable hours a week. Not particularly impressive (on a good day I can generate 12-18 hours), but I worked with what I had.
Eventually April came and went; and it was time for payday. I'd get paid once a month--which is how they do things in Slovakia or when you're a prison employee; but I never complained about it. I knew that was the deal when I accepted the position.
Course I assumed that Barry would actually pay me on the 1st of each month; but instead he'd always wait until the last possible moment. Stretch it out. I never actually received a check until the first Friday of the month--after 2:00, so it'd take another weekend to clear.
The first Friday of May 2011 was May 6th. That's when I got my check for April. Keep in mind reader, I'd gone a whole month without being paid; plus had to lay-out the various expenses associated with the day-to-day aspects of my work. So I needed my check.
But when I pulled that envelope from the mailbox and hastily ripped it open, I had to do a double-take. A triple-take. The amount wasn't right. It was short--by close to $1,000.00 gross. What?
I immediately grabbed my phone.
"Barry P____."
"Barry, its Lodo. How ya doing?"
"Good Lodo, what's up?"
"...Well Barry, I just got my paycheck today--May 6th, and,...well, its wrong."
"What d'ya mean, wrong?"
"Well, I mean its wrong. This thing's close to $1,000.00 short. Plus there's no explanation as to what's been taken out--FICA; Social Security; NY taxes, all that stuff. Its...just a check."
"Well I told you Lodo that if you couldn't increase your billing or get your quality up we couldn't keep you at your same compensation level. We had a whole meeting about that."
I had to take a deep breath.
"...Barry--are you kidding me? We said 'if' I couldn't get my billing up or improve my quality. We never said that was a done deal. And we certainly never discussed what that reduced compensation level would be. Or if I would accept it--which I don't."
"You're telling me you won't accept that check?" Barry asked.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. You owe me another $1,000.00 for April. I worked the whole month assuming my salary was $__,____.00. You can't just arbitrarily decide to change my salary halfway thru the month. This is a a really low-brow move. I'm really upse..."
"Lodo we told you that you're not billing enough to justify your salary."
"Well then we need to discuss what my new salary would be. Its not for you to just come up with a number on your own halfway thru the month. Plus, you didn't give me any new assignments--so how could I increase my billing?"
"Well we couldn't give you any new assignments Lodo 'cause your quality's been so poor. So we had to re-assign the cases you'd usually get. That's another reason why I had to reduce your salary--'cause of the quality issues."
I took another deep breath.
"Barry,...how does paying me less money resolve your quality issues? I don't get that association. You'll send your clients crap so long as I'm being paid less? It makes no sense. You either think I'm not good enough and have to let me go; or you just want to pay me less money, which you should just come out and say. But we both know I can't generate more billing without cases. So...you need to decide what you're gonna do."
"...You're really wont accept that check?" Barry asked again, with what seemed genuine surprise.
"Not for a second. You owe me for April and now its May 6th."
I could continue with the rest of the story (I didn't actually get fired 'til June 2nd); but it isn't particularly compelling or even educational in a life-lessons kind of way. The post's not even worthy of a title. I only brought all this up to exhume the negativity from my spirit, and I think I've done that now. So if the new posts are a bit less frequent these summer days. Somewhat lighter in terms of content; you'll know the reason why. Hell you already knew.
I'm on intermission.
Regular readers may have noticed that I haven't posted in a week. That's unusual for me; but my computer crashed and I've just lost my job; so I've been on intermission for this past week or so. Actually I've been the proverbial dangling man for well over a month. Since early April, when my boss called me into the office to discuss certain "issues" he had with my work product. Course I was surprised to hear of any problems since all I'd ever done was submit my reports on time; without fail or complaints; much to the appreciation of our clients.
But my boss insisted we had to talk. The first thing I noticed when I visited the office that breezy afternoon more than a month ago was that there was only one girl behind the reception desk. Bleach-blonde Marilyn. We'd always had two gals in the past; but now it was only Marilyn. We exchanged a smile and few desultory comments as I nodded in acknowledgement toward Barry (my boss) who I could see seated behind his desk. He was on the telephone, and gestured with a raised index finger that I should wait a minute.Like a visit to the doctor, Barry always makes me wait outside his office before he'll call me in. I never used to read anything into it, but now I know it's a definite power thing with him and psychological tool. Just like Barry, by which I mean a tool. When Barry finally called me in, I took a seat in the armed leather chair adjacent to his desk. He was still in the process of hanging-up the phone, but greeted me with a handshake and his car-salesman's smile.
"Hey Lodo, glad you could come in. Take a seat. Jimmy! You wanna come in here? Lodo's here."At which point Jimmy entered the office, slowly closed the door behind him, and took a seat in a chair similar to mine. "Tell you what Jimmy," Barry began with a heavy sigh," why don't you get things started." Jimmy shifted in his chair, pushed his Coke-bottle glasses up to the bridge of his nose, and proceeded to collate a few files he had on his lap. "Okay Barry, thanks," he said as he cleared his throat. "....Lodo, we've got to talk about the quality of some of these reports you've submitted." "Really? Okay. Was there a particular file?" "Yeah there was. ...Look at this one. A bus accident. Lodo, you say in your report that the driver disputes the police officer's explanation; but if you look at the police report closely, the accident could actually have happened the way the officer says." Jimmy handed me the report and allowed me to review it. I remembered the case. "...I never said it couldn't have happened that way Jimmy. The police report obviously speaks for itself; but our driver disputes the report. Our assignment was to secure the driver's statement; so I got our driver's explanation. I agree with you that his story doesn't carry as much weight as the officer's. But at least now we know what he's gonna say, which I assumed was the point of the assignment." Jimmy looked toward Barry with a meaningful glance. "Yeah Lodo, but our driver's story makes no sense. If you look at the intersection where the accident happened, there's no STOP sign there like he alleges." "How do you know that?" I asked. "Cause I looked on Google maps. There's no STOP sign at that intersection. Did you look at the scene before you took our guy's statement?" "We were never asked to perform a scene inspection. If we were, I'd have gone there for photographs and measurements. But our instructions were just to secure our guy's statement. So I met him, gave him a piece of paper. Told him to diagram what happened. ...How hard is it? It was just two-vehicles." "Well Lodo, you should have looked on Google so you would have known about that STOP sign issue."Hmmmm. Should have looked on Google despite no request for a scene investigation. ...You know reader, maybe Jimmy was right? I mean, back in the day if a client wanted a scene inspection it had to be requested. It was an investigative task in and of itself that got billed. But in this modern, technological world of Yahoo maps and Google images, maybe I should have gone to Google maps to check the intersection on-line. So while it was bit uncomfortable to hear, maybe there was some validity to Jimmy's criticisms. I began to assume a more humble demeanor. Yet as Jimmy began to run-down his other quality "issues" they became more and more insubstantial. Almost trivial--at least in my mind; and I've been doing this kind of work a long time. Each time he'd point out a perceived oversight and each time I provided an explanation, or the logic behind my actions. Until eventually Jimmy, obviously unconvinced, seemed exasperated by my density. What's going on here? I began to ask myself. It was only when Barry; perhaps energized by my flagging spirit went for the knockout blow that he left himself exposed and revealed his true intentions. "So listen Lodo," Barry suddenly interjected with a voice that rose in volume like a proclamation, "we're not saying this 'cause its pick on Lodo Day! 'Uhh,...hey Jimmy, lets go pick on Lodo!'""No," Jimmy chimed in as he shook his head meditatively and stared at the floor. "No, these are serious problems," continued Barry, "problems that are gonna cost us clients. Particularly your reports, my God!" "What about my reports?" I asked with amazement. "It takes me hours to review and fix your reports," Jimmy responded as he looked up from the floor. "What?! It took you an hour to edit one of my reports? " "All of your reports Lodo. Hours, "Jimmy repeated with haggard eyes, as if my poor reporting had left him mentally scarred. "Everyone of 'em." Well reader, now I understood. Jimmy had me rattled for a moment with that Google Maps stuff ; but now I saw this was a shakedown.
"You're telling me," I said towards Jimmy in full investigator's mode, "that it takes you hours--with an 's' at the end, for you to review every report of mine?""Hours Lodo." Jimmy and I continued to lock eyes as I mentally struggled to find an explanation for our difficulties. "...You do know Jimmy that when you put an 's' at the end of a word that means more than one." "Yeah I know Lodo!" Jimmy snapped. "Well I don't think you do," I said, " 'cause I've been doing this kind of work for 20 years and I've never received a complaint about my reports. Not about my style anyway. I've had VP's of companies tell me I wrote the best report they ever read. VP's--with an 's' at the end. I've had companies use my reports as training guides for new hires. Every report you ever got from me was on diary. Every report followed the format as provided to me. I don't know what's going on; but for 8 months we had no issues with my work product whatsoever and now suddenly--for the first time, I'm hearing it takes Jimmy hours to edit my reports? Sorry, but I don't believe that. If someone were making my life that difficult I'd have let them know in about 2 seconds. I'd ha...""Well we're letting you know!," Barry interjected again. "If you can't get the quality and billing up to where we need it we're not gonna be able to keep you Lodo. ...At least,...not at your present compensation level." Not at your present compensation level. Okay reader, now I really saw it. And if you're a regular here at Intermission you know that my boss has been a lying piece of shit from the get-go. Scammed me on my health insurance--twice! Plus my bonus; my car allowance; the consistently late paychecks and expense payments. At least, not at your present compensation level. Um hmm. "Listen Barry," I told him, "I'm not a Communist. I believe in Capitalism. If you can find someone who does what I can do for less money, then you've gotta take him. Do what you've gotta do. " * NOTE: As mentioned previoulsy, my computer's down at the moment and I don't want to download any pics or photos into this borrowed machine. I think the posts really suffer without pics and clips, so I'm gonna split this into another part and wait for my machine to get fixed. Thanks for reading y'all!!
