The Morning After

Do you ever get that sensation where maybe you pick up a smell or aroma, then all of a sudden you are transported back in time?

yeah me neither… that’s crazy talk.

***

Tonight, I was DJing (that sentence does not sound right, tonight I was Djing… hmmm)… I was DJing at The Clubhouse last night.  Grinding through my set when I picked up a scent wafting through the place.  It really screwed with my head because I suddenly had feeling that I have not had in like six years but I also could not exactly place it.  It was not till after my set, and I was driving home in the light rain and cold that it came to me.  I was back in Vancouver over the winter of ’02/’03.  I worked at a hotel and the smell of the Clubhouse reminded me, very strongly of that time.  As I drove home it was very overwhelming.

Before I came ot work at the Zone, I worked at a hotel in Vancouver called The Westin Bayshore.  I answered the phones.  I monitored security cameras.  I facilitated communications.  I drafted up the daily staff newsletter.  I did all this during the graveyard shift.  My office or work station was in the bowels of this giant hotel that had a billion employees.  At night, there were far fewer of us on so it was a little more manageable knowing everyone.  For the most part it was a good job.  I got the job at a time in my life when I really needed it.  I was broke.  Now I am generally in a constant state of broke-ness, but at that time, I felt hopelessly broke.  I was 22, slinging lattes at Starbucks for $9 an hour.  I had dropped out of broadcast school and  was DJing at CiTR for no money.  My band was pretty much done.  When I was 21, not a bad life… but by 22 something had to give.  I reapplied to finish up my diploma at BCIT and on a tip from a Starbucks coworker, I applied as a banquet server at the Westin Bayshore.  My buddy Roland said it would pay like $10!  holy shit… plus tips!  holy double shit!

Something odd happened.  I got a call from their HR.  The chick said, “are you sure you want this job?”

I said, “yes ma’am!  I’ll take ANY job.”

she replied, “well no, we have a better job for you.”

Turns out my sorta finished radio broadcasting diploma was just the thing the hotel needed, so they offered me a pretty sweet union gig with kinda steady hours if I was willing to consider a career with them and be willing to work overnights.

Rad, I promised the moon.

Then BCIT called… huzzah, I’m back in.

Conflict.

How to do both.  BCIT is sorta assholish with their… “you better make us your 100% priority, we don’t give a fuck what your personal story is.”  School is a 24 hour commitment there.  Plus… well it is RAYDEO school… and I had my fill of $8 an hour and getting treated like shit for some ginormous company… when on line 2 we have a ginormous corporation that pays their workers a living wage… at a time when I so badly needed a good wage… but tourism?  that was not my life goal.  Radio was.  BUT a living wage… fuck!  So much struggle for two years, getting by just barely, loving life as a hipster skid and then two choices.  What to bet on?

Well, I did what any good person faced with this choice would do, I lied.

I told the Westin, “yes sir!  I am super jazzed on being you’re new Service Express Agent.” and I told BCIT, “yes sir! I will the bestest student you ever had with no more immature shenanigans as was per me in the past.”

and I did both.

and it was fucking dumb hard.

and I kept working at Starbucks for some idiotic reason, but my manager there was really cool and Starbucks was the most flexible.  Plus, all my friends at that time of my life worked there…

and I kept DJing The Morning After Show at CiTR.

and did Childrens’ birthday parties with Alex on the weekends.

and one time I worked three 8 hours shifts, back-to-back-to-back  which was something I would not recommend… but my pay day at the end of the week was $1,000!  and it was the first time in my life that I had ever had a pay cheque for over $1,000.

I took a lot of sky train rides.  and walked in a lot of rain storms.  and filled in for workers at the hotel when I could (I had to, I was the on-call guy and in February it was slow and I wasn’t getting as many hours… and BCIT ain’t cheap).

The job at the Westin was both very interesting and really doltish.  It was cool because I had never worked for a high end hotel and learned lots about that business.  My job I was somehow given.  Most people that work in hotels seem to tourism people… they go to tourism school for a career in tourism… and I was that guy.   That guy that didn’t go to tourism school, that didn’t speak the lingo or wear black socks when everyone was supposed to wear black socks ( I seriously got pulled in for not wearing black socks one day… zoinks!).

They gave me a suit!  nice.  I looked good.  They fed me. The pay was awesome (for a 22 year old kid) and the job could be mind numbing crushing.  At night I read.  Every so often the on duty manager mucky muck would come down and blah blah blah about how I wasn’t supposed to read.  They’d leave, and I’d finish my book.  I read a lot.  Like a lot a lot.

NHL teams stayed at the hotel.  That was cool.  I was the guy that dealt with their late night sandwich requests.

There were exciting things that went down at night in the hotel, but that was not my bag… I sat in the crypt of the hotel and sent others to deal with the wacky shit.  I just monitored it.  Boring.  I listened to the radio… and good gravy did I really want to be on it.  When it was busy, I’d beg them to let deliver whatever the guests wanted or dream up excuses to wander the halls, but it was never any good.  I had to be at my post… monitoring things and answering phones that never rang at 3:54 AM.

The days past.  I was a zombie, going from school to work, to work, to bed, repeat.  I was living with Alex at the time on Commercial, and I didn’t get to see her very much.  She worked two jobs too.

Some how it all stayed glued together and it was spring.  Time to find a practicum for BCIT and time for the hotel to start filling up with guests.

For a BCIT practicum, you need to find a radio station that will let you work there for free for 30 days.  Its not as easy as you’d think.

My old boss at CFUN was now at a station that does not exist anymore called MOJO.  He said he’d get me on there which was the plan.  Then I could do my practicum, keep working at the hotel and graduate.

Then I had the idea… I worked so hard, maybe I could do my practicum in Hawaii?  so off a letter went to KPOI.  and still… the goal was to be a rock radio DJ so I sent out three demos to more practical stations.  One to Regina, one to Kamloops and one to Victoria.

Two radio stations got back to me… KPOI and The Zone.

Two Islands in the Pacific.  Now here’s the thing, I really wanted to go to KPOI, but I was concerned I wouldn’t get the job after the 30 days… but maybe Victoria will keep me.

I chit-chatted with my boss at The Westin, Stuart… and he was not very impressed with me.  WTF? Leaving him just before summer after he hired me and gave me hours during the slow season?  yeah, you didn’t want to be in that room.

So I picked Vic because, well, there was no, not getting a job… ya dig?

Starbucks was much cooler.  My boss there was a dude named Arlin and he said that if things went sour in Victoria I could come back to my old job at Starbucks and think about progressing to manager.  I thanked him but said, no offense, but I pray to god that will not come to pass.  Packed my bags and took the ferry to Victoria…