StandUp: The Do's and Don'ts
Installment #4
What standup comedian has not had the experience of seeing
looks of delighted surprise on the face of an individual who has
discovered what you do to make a living? "That’s the hardest
job in the world." I don’t know who created the myth that
standup comedy is the hardest of all occupations but he has my kudos.
The very fact that people blindly accept the notion that my job is
harder than being a sanitation worker in Singapore or fishing for
Alaskan King Crab off the coast of wherever they fish for Alaskan
king crab (Alaska?) appeals to my sense of the absurd.
I’m doing one of my semi-annual corporate jobs. I get about two
or three of these a year (hence the semi-annual). This one is either
for the guys who make duct tape or the guys who make masking tape.
I’m certain it’s one of the two. If you’re thinking I’m an ingrate
because I’m making a bucket full of cash off of a company and I don’t bother to find out if they make masking tape or duct tape you’re sadly
mistaken. I’m 99 percent sure they don’t make Scotch tape and
convinced they don’t make videotape. So there.
Anyway, I figured after I checked into my penthouse suite at
the Chicago Hilton I’d sit down to my laptop and tap out a little
thingy for Shecky. Standup really is the extreme of jobbing. One
minute you’re throwing dead cockroaches to scare away the rats at
a condo in Tampa and the next you’re looking out at a view of Lake
Michigan as you eat complimentary shrimp. "Complimentary
shrimp"! What a phrase.
My penthouse has four televisions. One in the living room, one
in the bedroom, and one in each of the bathrooms. That’s right.
I have a guest bathroom in case some ne'er-do-well middle act decides
to drop in. If it weren’t winter, I’d lunch on the veranda. I’ll
still use the hot tub. Yes! I’ll have my complimentary shrimp
while soaking in the hottub. Perhaps inspiration will visit during
my soak and I’ll write a masking tape joke. While I’m writing this
I’m also making the mental note to make sure and call all my friends
from the phone in the bathroom and begin the call with the obligatory,
"You’ll never guess where I’m calling you from..."
It’s an hour later and I’ve got porno running on all four of my
televisions and blasting from the surround-sound system. It hurts
my ego to realize that I’ve never personally been able to elicit
that kind of screaming while being intimate with a partner. On the
other hand I never had a partner making money. Well, not that kind
of money. I washed down my complimentary shrimp with a porterhouse
steak. I’m full. I’m full of shrimp and steak and a chocolate milk
shake. I’m going to go throw up in the guest bathroom and take a nap.
The job went poorly but I’ve got the check. I was a little too
full for the performance even after the purge earlier. I got a
little over confidant after I dressed for the show and downed
several imported beers I discovered in my refrigerator. Tape people
are big on comedians who can remember every stupid punch line. I
doubt I’ll work for them again. They’re too picky for one thing and
they probably won’t invite me for another. I could obsess over this
but I’m too busy being amazed at the number of masseuses in the
Chicago yellow pages that bill discreetly. I’ll finish this later.
I’m hungry again and the room service button on the telephone beckons.
I’m picking my teeth watching soft-core pay-per-view. A bellboy
returned my videos for a five-dollar consideration. P.T. Barnum
was right. Tomorrow I fly first-class back to Los Angeles compliments
of the "Tape People". I changed my flight from 7 AM to
11:35. I've given myself a few extra hours in my penthouse to
contemplate the fact that I have the hardest job in the world.
A half an hour ago my phone rang and I fully expected the
management to be calling to tell me to turn down my SurroundSound.
It was the management but the issue was not what I had anticipated.
"Mr. Myers?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Myers, this is John Gashalt. I’m the evening manager
of operations here at the Chicago Hilton."
"Yes, John."
"Mr. Myers, I’m more than just a little embarrassed to be
making this call. It has come to my attention that you didn’t
receive your turn down service at 8 PM this evening."
A second or two go by and I can feel this guy is sweating.
"John...may I call you John?"
"Of course, Mr. Myers." I begin. "John,
I’ve had problems with you people in the past."
More to follow.
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