Let's Sucker's Game?

Where has the month gone? Where are the snows of yesteryear? Have I really done nothing all month?

In a word, yes and no.

Basically, what I've been up to is this: making moneyz. And not in the fun way, just in working for The Man. And that's not very much fun to blog about, because you can't get too specific lest The Man be reading.

Still, though, my unemployment is winding down. We've had a good, long run, but I have to start thinking ahead. Some day, my savings will deplete, and one cannot live on Disney stock alone. In these troubled times it's probably wise to take in some additional sources of income, right?

So after getting two part-time offers for work, I said Let's Yes to both.

The first is teaching improv at a certain college that I've probably mentioned elsewhere on this blog, and the second is closed captioning at a certain company I've definitely not mentioned before. Nothing big, just helping out once or twice a week.

But... I got to caption this performance, which I loved!

Lady Gaga - New Music - More Music Videos

(I like this version much more than the official video, just because it sounds a bit more crazy - although in reality, it's probably just due to Lady Gaga being out of breath - and so desperate. Mmm, crazy and desperate and crippled. Also, I really like the word "Gaga.")

So while working minimal hours, I've come to the conclusion that working for The Man is a sucker's game. 'Cause you ain't never gonna win. And I've gotten some flack about that opinion (mostly from people who probably feel trapped in the same game), but I can't help but feel it's true.

Like, unless you're taking steps toward whatever your true goal/desire is, you're just spinning wheels and punching clocks and then it's three years later and you're still working for the Man. Sure, you've got some more money in the bank, but you also lost three precious years.

I think of the folks who eschewed the traditional 9-5, lived a life less luxurious and stable (and it sucks to lose insurance), but were able to focus full-time on their art or craft or schooling or whatever it was. It's a sacrifice.

And I'm lazy, I've barely done anything with my free time (remember these goals for 2009? The only one I accomplished was going to DragonCon again. That one about doing something TV-related? Oh, the shame of it all.), imagine how much less I'd get accomplished if I had to sacrifice most of my day for The Man?

It's baffling and self-indulgent, but at the same time, I spent the first few years in NYC working a lot (for a while on the midnight shift), building up some cash, buying some Disney stock, and learning some skillz, so one day I could be like this.

Now instead of "struggling," I'm... "middling," I guess, and can spend my days getting sent out on auditions, writing, or (more likely) being lazy, and then I can supplement my income by coaching improv at night, which is work that I really enjoy and care about. So that's a nice step forward. Not the biggest step forward (which would be instant fame and fortune... or just fortune), but it's at least a step in a direction.

There's probably some middle ground, too, somewhere. Maybe working for the Man but also following your dreams. Would that be wise? Or just wishy-washy? Both? Neither?

Beh, I don't have the answers. I just wanna repost this ol' gem:


...except maybe I'd add an asterisk that reads: "But do as little of it as possible while you take steps toward doing what you really wanna do."

That works, right? God, I hope so.

Two Decisions I Recently Made...

1. "Would you be willing to shave your eyebrows for our commercial?"

And I quickly said NO, THANK YOU.

I don't need the money, get little satisfaction at playing a taste bud, and I like my eyebrows a lot. My face would be weird without them. So, sorry, candy commercial, but you can count me out.

2. "Would you be willing to wear a [name omitted] mascot costume for a toy convention?"

And I quickly said YEAH, BUDDY!

I'd have done it for free, actually, instead of the big bucks they offered. Come on, this is Kirk they're asking. I'm an idiot that loves mascots and toys, and this is the closest chance I'll ever getting to becoming a human cartoon (side-note and name-drop: Dick Cavett once called me an "animated toy." Swear to God.), so sign me up!

I was young and foolish then. I feel old and foolish now.

For the past four days I've suffered, worked harder than I think I ever have in my life, and definitely experienced more pain than I've ever felt, including the time I was beaten up by a blind date who was twice my size.

I wish I could've blogged every day to complain and scream, but by the time I limped home, I was too tired and weak to do anything but sit in the bath and disinfect my wounds.

Yeah, if there is a personalized Hell for Kirk, it's what I experienced. To paraphrase Neil Gaiman, it sounds like a bad joke. But, like everything else in Hell, it's deadly serious.

Imagine being surrounded by every funzo toy in the world. And you're allowed to play with them because you're dressed like a cartoon! But... you can't. Your hands are covered in weird, four-fingered gloves that reduce your Dexterity by 10 (D&D scores), and you can barely see out of the dark, tunnel-visioned, mesh-covered hole that is your only outlet to the outside world.

Sweat streams down your face constantly, but you can't wipe it off. You can't touch your head, so that headband you naively wore on the first day, when it slips down and blocks your eyes, YOU ARE SCREWED. When your glasses fog up or fall down too far, YOU ARE SCREWED.

So you go sans spectacles and headband and deal with the sweat. It stings your eyes. So it goes. You lose over a pound a day due to sweating. That sounds dangerous.

The head has this adjustable strap that digs into your forehead. You can't get it to fit right, so you try to hold your beak with one hand, as if you are thinking or have a toothache. The strap causes blisters on your forehead. You get a familiar, almost loving, headache as soon as you put the head over yours. It digs and pinches in all the wrong pressure points. You think you're going mad.

You realize why knights of the olden days sometimes suffocated. The head heats up horribly. You exhale in a way that hopefully blows cool air in your face. It doesn't work. You wonder what would happen if you passed out, and it's only pride and a weird sense of cartoon-character honor that prevents you from giving in.

You can't speak, of course. Mascots never speak. So when you eventually cry from the pain and because you think you're blacking out (and believe me, no matter how proud you are, eventually you will cry), you have to do so silently.

The body was made for someone bigger and stronger than you. It hangs heavily on your shoulders, and the straps unmercifully scrape your skin. The blisters bleed. Sweat gets in the open wounds. It hurts, but what're you gonna do?

Worst of all are the feet of this silly, harmless little cartoon character. You can't walk in the way God and Evolution meant for humans to walk. Your feet remain flat all day, you lift them up, almost like you are marching, and you cannot arch your foot.

The tops of the feet dig into your shins. They bleed, too. You put band-aids and socks over them, but with every step, every single step, they cut into your skin. Every time you walk, all day. And the blood and lymph (?) get stuck to the fur and to your cotton socks, and when they dry, they rip a little. This causes you to bleed some more. You take pride in the fact that none of your blood gets on the costume.

Your walk is somewhere between a waddle and a limp, which is good for the character, but it's really because you've pulled some muscle in your leg. The next day, you'll favor your other leg, and then you'll pull that one, too. By the third day, there's a full-on sprain or something. It hurts. The legs and feet are heavy, and you have all day to walk around and wave at people.

Speaking of the people, are they wide-eyed kids or fellow Kirks who appreciate things like mascots? For the most part, no, not really. This isn't Disney World. It's a convention. They've got business to deal with. Children, and this is true, are forbidden at the toy convention. The convention badge actually says, "Please save yourself and your child the stress and embarrassment of being turned away."

You wave, blow kisses, give a thumbs-up or a high-five. The adults wave politely, smile genuinely every now and then, but the majority of what you get are blank stares and feigned ignorance.

And you know what happens to a cartoon that's ignored, right? It dies.

And so died a little part of my soul.

[Note: This post was a bit dramatic and whiney, so I want to end it by saying my bosses were incredibly cool and sweet and nice, and all the suffering was on my part to be a martyr and not give up.

I thought I could make it through the entire convention, and I was right. I can barely walk right now, but I survived, and most amazing of all, there were even moments when I genuinely thought, "This is kind of fun."

Who else can say that after visiting their own personal little Hell?]

Fired!

On Thursday our department was finally let go.

We were in good company, over 800 other people were laid off from Viacom in a big initiative of sadness.

At least our department had warning - a huge amount of warning, really, considering we were told at the end of July. But I still went from being a rich, rich man with more money than I could ever spend (remember that proposed trip to London and Paris?) and the savings just piling up to having to carefully budget my coins and be nervous about the future. Fun! And just in time for the holidays.

So now I find myself unemployed for the first time in about five years, wondering what to do and what will happen... along with thousands and thousands of other people.


Gone is my work ID, which always made me laugh. As you can see, I got it during a moustache period of my life. And when I finally shaved, everyone was like, "Wow, you look so different!" To which I responded, "Oh, this? This is what I really look like."

I'll miss the job. I liked the work, it was interesting and stress-free, I liked the people, and I had a plant that I didn't have to water for months at a time. It was without a doubt the best job I've had since moving to the city. Or in my life. I don't know what'll happen to the plant.

And there's a big, boring story about the MTV Closed Captioning Department and why things happened to us the way they did. Basically, in an effort to save money short-term, they're outsourcing us, even though short- and long-term, we were a profitable department. Long-term, they're probably making a mistake... but who cares about tomorrow when there are so many troubles today?

Our severance, which I was expecting to be a big fat zonk, was nicer than I could expect, so at least that's something. But everyone is unemployed these days... that's the part that worries me.

On the one hand, a steady paycheck is a great thing. But on the other, though 2008 was the Year of Yes, I don't feel like I got a lot done, writing- and production-wise. What did I do, what did I create, what steps have I taken toward my ultimate dream goal of turning into a Muppet?

Not much, honestly.

And so maybe 2009 might be a time to really work on that, instead of finding a 40-hour job that'll keep me rolling in the money. I think of some of the people I've met and admire, like Brian Huskey and Rob Corddry, who eschewed (God, I love that word) regular 9-to-5s in the pursuit of their comedy dreams. And maybe I should be taking similar steps.

Also, inspired by my friend DC's success in a similar venture, I'd like to work more seriously on my novel. That's right, the one from NaNoWriMo. Though the month is over, the novel isn't. I'm at about 33,000 words, hopefully done by 55,000. More on that in a future post.

So that's about it on the Employment story. Last Thursday, as I took my suitcase full of stuff home, I decided to Year of Yes the day, and not go home and sulk and watch Survivor: Gabon (one person on the show went to my high school, and another had a small part in a UCBW wrestling show last year - small world!), I'd take a coaching gig and do a commercial audition, even though it was raining and I wanted very much to sit and sulk.

I didn't get the commercial, but I think it's an auspicious beginning to my unemployment. I'm glad I didn't give up and go home. The coaching gig was a lot of fun.

Oh, and before I exited the office, I left them a little something on my bulletin board, to show them (whoever "they" are - it's not like the people who will be going over my desk are the higher-ups that cut all the jobs) that we're all real people, not just numbers:


I certainly was.

And That's the Tooth!

I was supposed to get my wisdom teeth taken out this morning, but due to a family emergency on the oral surgeon's part, it got canceled.

And that ain't good.

We're getting laid off around the end of the month, and that means an end to my insurance. There's no way I can afford this surgery without coverage, so I really wanted to get these bastards removed in September.

I just called the dentist office, asked if I could maybe get an earlier date with the other surgeon, and they said it can be done on October 1st... which is the alleged day of the layoffs.

So it'll be tricky, tricky, tricky, timing-wise... I hope I can pull it off.

Dragon*Con Update

The day after booking my (non-refundable) hotel room and plane ticket, I was informed that there's a pretty strong chance, say 90%, that our department is about to be cut. So by the end of August, I'll probably be out of a job.

I'm still going to Dragon*Con.

Year of Yes.