I hate when I don't have time to write a real post since I have about a billion stories I could work on, but I don't like to go more than a week w/ nothing new (that's just not blogging). So until the weekend, don't forget to double-click! And thanks for reading!
Brooklyn (of course): Meatpacking District (Midtown): (Bronx): 5 Pointz (Long Island City): Bushwick (Brooklyn): Bushwick (Brooklyn): Meatpacking district (Midtown): Soho: Drunk guy outside The Gardenabout 3-4 months ago: 5 Pointz (Long Island City): Soho (Houston Street): 5 Pointz: Prince at The Garden last night (best pic I got despite being 12th Row! Too much booze or crazy lighting?): * NOTE: All pics taken by Lodo Grdzak. 5 Boroughs of NYC. All rights reserved.
There comes a point in any debate or argument where the adult knows when to walk away or simply shut the fuck up. Where its understood that--whether the other party’s right or wrong, further discussion is only going to exacerbate the differences and perhaps an intermission should be taken to cool things down.
Course you have to want things to cool down. Political pundits, media personalities, and even certain Presidential candidates such as the old Pat Buchanan thrive off conflict and aggression. That’s where they shine. Like Robert Duvalle in The Apostle or (in the most extreme case) Adolph Hitler, they always have to be in re-building or war mode. The bureaucratic machinations of peacetime leadership are beyond their abilities--they don’t actually want to govern. They want to lead. Where to they don’t really care so long as they’re at the helm; but with these types it’s usually a road to nowhere or flamed-out glory. At everybody else’s expense.
Pat Buchanan’s role in politics has since been usurped by Sarah Palin. We all know she’s been in the news lately (always will be ‘til after 2012), and of course that’s right where Sarah likes it. Sure she’ll complain that her name shouldn’t be affixed to the actions of others, but I guess she’s never heard the phrase “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” Oh no, Sarah’s going on TV! And while she held her tongue for awhile, the brownshirts that follow and sponsor her need their red meat.
And we know Mama Grizzlies like lots of meat.
Palin’s a retard-breeding cunt I’d like to see slowly die of pussy rot; but in deference to the wishes of my country’s Commander-in Chief I won’t say anything mean about her. I only bring her up since she came to mind today.
I had to interview a school bus driver who’d been involved in a minor accident. Nothing worth explanation here, but after the interview he offered to drive me back to the train. Usually I’d just walk; but it was 29 degrees today, so I accepted.
Well, this guy proceeded to drive me to the train, and like all professional drivers, he loves to talk. Talk, and talk, and talk. First it was about his kids (of which I have no interest), then it was about life as as school bus driver (ditto); then it was about how he used to be a limo driver. He had a decent story about one of his clients I may bite for a later post; but...My God!
This guy had a habit I’ve observed in certain personality types where he’d repeat the same thing a million times. Over and over again, to the point where I wanted to stick a pencil in his head. For example, he proceeded to explain to me in his thick Russian accent:
“You see Mr. Grdzak, you and I are same. We can’t work in office. Boss all the time watching, watching, watching. Where’s this thing? Where’s that thing? It drives you nuts--no? Now, when you drive a limo, you don’t have that. If I want to work 3 hours, I work 3 hours. If I want to work 20 hours, I work 20 hours. You know what I mean? I’m my own boss.”
“Right,” I responded.
“I mean, maybe I’m very motivated, I want to work lot of hours--no problem! I work! I drive! ...On the other hand, if weather’s not so good. I don’t feel I want to drive today, I don’t go in. It’s no problem.” “Right. I like that.”
“Sure! You know, you go into the office, you drop your keys into the box ‘Okay boss, put me on the list to drive.’ And if you don’t want to drive, you don’t put the keys in. It’s that easy.”
“Got ya.”
And I did get it reader. In fact, dumbass that I am, I had it after the first time. Wasn’t exactly rocket science. But this guy had more to flesh-out.
“Like now Mr. Grdzak, January’s good time to take vacation. Not so many people at the resorts. Its cheaper, so I’d like to go. But you see, now I work for school so I have to wait till the kids take the time. Back when I used to drive the limousine I could ju..”
“You could just go when you wanted,” I said, finishing his sentence in hopes that he’d see I understood.
“Correct! I could go when I wanted. I was my own boss. But now I have to wait until the school is out. I can’t make my own schedule. Used to be, if I was sick or...”
On and on this guy went, every possible scenario he was gonna explain. If he had to take the wife to the doctor he didn’t have to work; but if he wanted extra money for Christmas he could work overtime. Course on Christmas its nice to stay home; but then again, maybe you want to work since there’s not so many drivers...
After awhile his voice became white noise as I rolled my eyes and suddenly recalled my old boss and mentor--Alex. The guy who got me started in investigations and who taught me the business (R.I.P Alex!). Alex was a complete obsessive-compulsive and a total degenerate gambler. One of these guys who did everything a certain way. Perhaps it was what made him such a great investigator--his amazing eye for detail and his systematic, linear train-of-thought. But the guy could be maddening in a similar manner as this Russian driver.
Alex usually called me with his questions around 1:00 AM, since that’s when he’d get home from the track. On the occasion that came to mind today, we’d investigated an automobile accident out in Queens.
Had it occurred in Manhattan it would have been easy since the city’s structured on a simple grid; but in Queens the directions get complicated since there’s 46th Street, 46th Avenue, 46th Road. Plus the streets run in odd patterns. So its complicated, and in this case the police officer who responded must have got confused. He wrote down the wrong directions on his report; which unfortunately, I’d used as a guide when I secured our driver’s statement. So all the directions I’d reported to our client were wrong.
As my Russian driver prattled on en route to the train, I couldn’t help but recall Alex’s phone call of about 15 years ago.
“Lodo, you awake? It’s Alex.”
“...Yeah. (heavy yawn). “...What’s up?”
“Lodo, I’m looking at this report you wrote about that accident in Queens, and we’ve got a problem.”
“...Really? What’s that?” I asked as I tried to rub the sleep out my eyes.
“Well Lodo, you say our driver was going south on Broadway, but that’s not right. As I look at my map, he must have been going north. The cop probably wrote it down wrong.”
“...Uh, okay.”
(laughs). “Well, yeah--okay. Except that you’ve got him going south. That needs to be changed. He was going north.”
“Oh. Uh,...okay. Well, I guess I’ll have to change that.”
“Yeah, we need to change that. I mean,..I’m looking down a little lower on the first page; and again, you’re statement reads, '...I was facing south on Broadway, approaching the light.' But that’s wrong. He was going north.”
“I see. ‘Cause the directions are backward.”
“Exactly!...Here’s another spot on page 2, he says “..when I suddenly saw a car come from the east.' But that’s not right. It should say he came from the west.”
“Right. Okay. ‘Cause the directions are wrong.”
“They’re all wrong! Look at page 3, where he talks about the parked car. That must have been on the east side--not west side beca...”
“Right. got you. “Cause the cop got the directions wrong.”
“He screwed it all up. Page 4 too. Look. He says...”
Alright reader--I got it! The directions were wrong! Shut the fuck up already. But on and on he went--12 pages worth of my report.
Course I’d never tell Alex to shut the fuck up. Better to just keep quiet ‘til the morning; just like I wouldn’t tell this Russian idiot who drove me to the A train to shut up.
"You know, if I wanted to take a week’s vacation I took a week. I could take two if I want--it doesn’t matter. Who’s gonna tell me no?”
Jesus. I don’t know how long the guy would’ve stayed on that subject if I hadn’t mentioned that I’d been to Russia. That got him to switch gears and talk about Moscow and St. Petersburg. And then finally Vladimir Putin. Putin got him excited.
“Now you see Putin, he’s no angel. But what do you want? He’s politician. Strong leader. We like that in Russia--strong leader. Here in America you like...different kind of President. But in Russia, we like guys like Putin. In Russia, we’d like the woman you have. ...Palin. She’s...”
Oh no.
“...strong leader. No bullshit. I like her. Sh...”
“Hey, you know what? I have to get off here.”
“What? We’re not at the train yet?”
“I know but...we just um...passed a street I need to go to.”
“What? I thought you needed theAtrain?”
“I did, but,..uh, I have another case I can work. I didn’t realize we were so close to it. Really, its no problem. I can get out here.”
“Right here? Really?” he asked as though genuinely disappointed.
“Really. I appreciate the ride.”
The guy reluctantly pulled over and let me out. I swung my backpack over my shoulders and was about to close the door when he asked me.
“Isn’t it cold out there? I could drive you to the train.”
“Naw,” I answered as I pulled my gloves on over my hands, “I don't mind the cold. Sometimes I need a little air."
I started Long Intermission after I quit my job last summer. An impulsive resignation that was heard like a shudder round the 15th floor of my old Midtown office building; and in fact, rocked my own foundation. Yet today, I almost walked out on my new job all over again.
But no! You cant do that Lodo. That’s what I had to remind myself as I stood outside my new office in the soft, wet snow. Just Relax. Breathe. Like Cesar says.
And I’m glad to say that I did.
I started this new job last September. I’d just left my old employer with no plan or direction, yet miraculously stumbled into this one within a few weeks. I was grateful at the time, and still am; but I wasn’t in the strongest bargaining position.
One reason why I’d got this job so easily was that I’d worked for my present boss before--a long time ago. Handled a couple cases for him when he was in a jam and he’d somehow got my name. He knew my work product and we got along well, so when we met again this summer we negotiated a salary and I was hired.
Actually, we negotiated a lot of things. Salary; car allowance; health insurance; bonus. We talked about it all and sealed the final deal with a handshake after two bottles of wine. I liked him; and perhaps because of that I trusted him. But now...
One of the first things we negotiated was my health insurance. Because I’d quit my job, I had to pay for COBRA benefits, which were $600.00 dollars a month. As an inducement to accepting less salary, my boss said he’d put me on his health plan right away as opposed to making me wait the standard 90 days. That’s $1,800.00 dollars, so I liked that.
Another thing we negotiated was my car allowance. As an investigator my territory is the five boroughs of New York; but the company could send me anywhere; so investigators are provided a car allowance. This allowance is standard practice throughout the industry, and its particularly beneficial to me since its not taxed as salary. Its paid like an expense and covers my parking space, which is a big deal in Brooklyn!I even make a little profit since I rely solely on public transportation and never drive--something my boss knew full well before we shook hands!
Of course we talked salary, but the last issue for our purposes here was bonus.
I never even brought up bonus. I was in no position to ask for bonus. It was my boss who brought it up.
“And let me tell you Lodo,” he said to me that night in Corona as he raised his wine glass and gulped down the last of his red, "...I give a bonus every year. And its a real Christmas bonus--something you can use that time of year. You’ll see when end of the year comes. Even this year, I’ll throw you a little something.”
I couldn’t ask for more than that, so we shook hands and the deal was done.
And reader, I’ve worked my ass off for this company. Eager to prove myself both to my boss and to myself, I worked 12-14 hour days and went to some very sketchy areas. But I really want this job to work out and before today still considered my boss almost a friend.
But our first moment of contention arose fairly quickly. Course contention is a word I use now--under the influence of my present emotional state; whereas then I just considered it a glitch in a new system. I was up in the Bronx when my boss called me.
“Barry, what’s up?” I asked into my company-provided Blackberry.
“Hey Lodo, how you doin’? Listen, I just had a conversation with my accountant...”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. Seems I can’t put you on our health insurance. Not right away.”
“You can't?”
“Naw. I’m sorry man. She says that since all the other employees had to wait 90 days, I cant just put you on right away. That’d be like..discrimination against the others who had to wait.”
“...But we already agreed you’d do that.”
“I know! I want to. But she says it’d be like...discrimination against the others who had to wait”
Discrimination against the others who had to wait. I don’t know reader, I’m not a lawyer. Is there any validity to that argument? It seemed possible to me out there in the Bronx. Plausible. Still...
“But Barry, you told me you’d pay for that. That’s 1800 dollars.”
“ I know, but I didn’t check with the accountant. She says it’d be like...discrimination against the others who had to...”
“Yeah--I got that.”
So okay. That first taste of bitterness has to come sometime in a close relationship. Eventually we worked out an alternative arrangement--albeit highly favorable for him, and moved on.
But around the end of October I was in the office on a rare visit when the boss asked to speak with me. We sat side by side in his relaxed leather chairs as he reviewed my expense report.
“Lodo, I know you’re supposed to get a $250.00 car allowance; but I’m looking at your expense report and all you ever do is use the train.”
“Right, we talked about that. You even laughed at my kick-scooter.”
(laughs)
“Right, I know,” he said, “But,...I mean. That’s all you use. You never drive.”
“Right.”
“So how can I give you a car allowance? For what?”
“For my car--I own one. I just don’t need to use it. But I might if you sent me to Jersey. Or Staten Island. And it costs $185.00 a month for my parking space. We talked about this,”
“ I know, but I don’t think can justify more than that $185.00.”
Alright reader, $185.00 a month. Never mind that we’d negotiated $250.00 or the myriad of arguments I could use to justify full payment. Arguments I won’t detail here since this post is already my longest and perhaps most negative in recent memory. I ate the $60.00 a month (over $600 a year) and again moved on.
But today was a bit of a different animal. I’ve been at the company for four months now. I keep track of my billing on a little ledger next to my desk and for 2010 that figure’s at least 2x what I was paid for the four months. With that in mind, along with my good sportsmanship in regards to the health insurance and car allowance issues, I assumed Barry planned to give me a little bonus when he asked me into the office today.
But when I got there he looked at me as almost an after-thought. Like he’d forgotten he asked me in. I sat in his office and watched while he made about thirty phone calls, then another half-hour as he made his dinner reservations for friends he planned to meet that night. Finally I had his undivided attention.
“Lodo, I’m glad to see you. You look good. This is you’re kind of weather, eh? God I hate this shit myself, but I know you like it--you don’t have to drive, right? Anyway, listen, we’ve got a new client. Potentially big client. I mean, really big. But they wanna give us a few cases first.”
“Okay.”
“They’re huge Lodo, but very particular. They have special codes they use in their reports and everything’s gotta be done on their own forms. Jimmy’ll show ya. He’s got a whole stack you can take with you. That’s why I wanted you to come in. He has interview samples for you too. Look at ‘em. They’re a little different.”
Barry smiled at me with his small, pointy incisors and slapped the tabletop with the open palm of his hand.
“These guys might be real big for us Lodo.”
We smiled at each other for a few moments without a word. I had only one thought in my head, but I could see we weren’t on the same page.
“...So what else is going on?” Barry suddenly asked as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Everything alright out there?”
“Yeah,” I answered, “I mean, you see the work’s getting done, right?”
“Absolutely, I love it Lodo. That’s why I’m giving these first two cases to you. But you need to speak with Jimmy. JIMMY!” Barry screamed out his open door to the office next door. “Lodo’s here for those forms! You gotta show ‘em the proper way to fill ‘em out!”
“Give me ten minutes Barry!” Jimmy yelled back in his nasal manner. “I’ve got Larry on the phone!”
“Well hurry up! I gotta get outta here!”
“You’re leaving?” I asked as my heart suddenly quickened.
“Yeah I’ve got a dinner tonight and I don’t wanna get stuck in this weather. I’m leaving now in fact.”
“Yeah but...”
“What?” Barry asked with a carelessness I suddenly didn’t care for.
I got out my chair and slowly closed the office door. Barry didn’t protest; and in fact, leaned across his table as though curious as to what I had to say. I returned to my chair, took a deep breath (‘cause these kinds of situations are hard for me reader!) and proceeded to say my piece.
“Barry, that night in Corona when we had dinner, agreements were made. I think you know what I’m talking about and for better or worse, we’ve resolved most of 'em. So I don’t want to go backward. But back in Corona you specifically said that you give a bonus at the end of the year. ‘A real Christmas bonus,’ that’s how you phrased it. ‘You’ll see, even at the end of this year.’ That’s how you said it. But now its a week after New Years, and,...welll....”
Barry maintained eye contact with me the entire time I spoke. He nodded at times where I’d have expected him to nod and showed deference to my comments where I’d hoped to sense it. But when I’d finished he exclaimed.
“Ah Lodo--come on. You’re only here four months! You just started! Lets see if these new clients like you. If they give us more stuff and ask for you, I wont be cheap. I’ll give you a piece. They could be real big. For both of us.”
Barry seemed genuinely excited for the two of us.
“...Yeah, but you said that before,” I reminded him.
“I did?” Barry asked, completely straight-faced as he shifted toward me in his seat. “When?”
“Back in Corona.”
“I did?” he asked again as his features took on the expression of someone genuinely attempting to remember. “I don’t think I would have said that Lodo. I know I give a bonus at the end of the year, that’s true. But after four months? I’ve never done that before. Usually th..”
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was Jimmy.
“Come in!” Barry said as Jimmy opened the door fully and entered. As he did so, I shot-out my chair and brushed past him thru the door.
“Hey, where you going?” Jimmy asked as I passed. “We need to review these forms.”
“Give me ten minutes,” I said over my shoulder as I bum-rushed the coat stand and violently yanked my jacket, “I need a break.”
I’d have liked to have smoked a one-hit or taken a Xanax, but instead I stood outside the office in the blowing flurries. It was cold, but I didn’t mind. I’m from Detroit. I stared at the virgin snow as it dusted the green bushes round the office’s Long Island parking lot and watched as my water repellant jacket caused the small flakes of snow to bead and run off the coat’s edges in various directions. After a few minutes it became peaceful in its way.
January. Ilona rides a mechanical bull somewhere on the Lower East Side. "Goodbye New York! ": February. With Henry Threadgill (right) at his Birthday Celebration at Jazz Gallery. Congratulations on winning this year's Village VoiceCritics Poll for best jazz re-issue! March: Got to see my niece Jaybird and my dog Spiffy out in Denver. April: Met 5x N.Y. Daily News Golden Glove champion; 1984 Olympic Gold Medal Winner; and 2x World Welterweight Champion Mark Breland (left) at Madison Sq. Garden. May: Got to meet my favorite TV star, Cesar Millan. June: Got to attend the after-party for Jeff Beck's tribute to Les Paul. (Wow!) July: Quit my job a week before our family vacation that we'd planned for a year. My mom (below in Maine) seemed to think my meeting Jeff Beck and Cesar Millan played a role. "I guess you're a real big-shot now Lodo." August. Got my new job and went to...Kansas? September. Got to meet music legend Terry Reid (center) at BB Kings--incredible performance!: October. w/ my man Vintage (left) and rock-'n' roll legend Eric Burdon of The Animals(center): November. Thanksgiving in good old Brooklyn. December. Happy New Year!! * NOTE: Big shout-out to Lisa Lisa (far left); and Ms. LuLu (far-right) for their photo-spread in Time Out shot by the super-famous Annie Leibovitz. Damn!
Goodbye 2010. Seems like everyone hated you, but you'll always have a friend in me!!
