Notice of Change of Contact

And so it begins...

Good afternoon colleagues,

I am writing to inform you that this Friday, July 29, 2011 will be my last day with American Consumer Shows.

I know some of you may have worked with me for less time than others, but I am happy to say that over the past three years I have made an incredible run of luck (that I wish I had in Vegas!) to have worked with such outstanding professionals in every facet of the tradeshow industry.

From our venue staff, our electricians, and our decorators, to our Fire Marshals and our hotels; I consider all of you more than business contacts; but friends in the trenches, and premier professionals that helped to make the unpredictable industry of running trade shows as painless and streamlined as possible.

I will remain with ACS in a reduced role as a consultant on shows, but to those of you whom I’ve contacted in the office; I wish you all of the absolute best, and I look forward to keeping in touch with you as we part ways. If I was your main point of contact you may now speak with:

Keara XXXXX

(516) 422-XXXX

XXXXXXX@acshomeshow.com

John XXXXX

(516) 422-XXXX

XXXXXX@acshomeshow.com

As always, if you should need me for anything I can be reached at my office line listed below until 7/29, and after that by cell phone. Thank you all for making my three years with ACS easy.

Best wishes on a successful future,

Chris Musto

Senior Event Coordinator

American Consumer Shows

Direct:      (516) 422-8138

Toll Free: (888) 433-EXPO (3976)

Fax:           (516) 422-8155

Friday in July = "Unholy Flamespitter"

Me ten minutes after starting a puzzle

And now for my next trick...I will fail at using pictures in a blog!!

I sweat. I am a sweater. I sweat during activities it’s not even appropriate to sweat during: for example, doing a puzzle. If left unchecked, this mundane, mind-soothing activity which is used as a meditation tool for most can have me sputtering out sentence fragments while drowning in a pool of my own facial secretions.

So the fact that it hit 107 degrees on Friday and I was in a full suit wasn't exactly in my "wheel house," if you could imagine.

Myself and Phil had the first on-site outing since we started our new endeavor. Our client wanted us to go to the restaurant and shoot photo and video of the kitchen, meals they prepare, the venue itself, and the belly-dancing ninjas they randomly release throughout the place to attack patrons (it’s actually pretty cool, and not nearly as violent as I make it out to be). Phil and I spoke the day prior about our plan of attack which was thus:

-   Phil has a camera

-   I offered to bring mine and help

-   He happily accepted, more cameras are awesome

-   We agree to meet at the restaurant at 7pm on Friday

Pretty cut and dry.

107 and a chance of gross...







Girls I conned into believing I was a photographer



Friday morning I woke up, dusted off my camera which I had laid out with my suit, ready to go, and made a final check. Camera's dead. Fantastic. (I know: I should have checked this sooner, THANK YOU Monday Morning coaches). I hadn't used the thing since January when I lost the battery charger for it in San Diego. Oh, I lost the charger for it. Luckily my roommate has a camera with a charger similar to mine which turns out can charge my battery. Either way, my camera is out for this particular evening. No chance I was going to go work right near queens, head back to my house all the way in Long Beach and back to Queens. Right?

....Right?

I text Phil on my way to the office to let him know we probably won't be using my camera this evening:

"Hey buddy. Suited up and ready for tonight. My camera is dead and my charger is MIA, so I'm gonna try and see if my roommate can charge it with his, after he wakes up. But just know we may not have my camera."

Text from Phil:

Ok but tonight is all about the video and photographs. The still shots are pretty critical. Better prep next time...I'll find a camera for you to use.



 Suddenly, my camera wasn't feeling so "additional" anymore. In business, especially event-related ones, miscommunications and misunderstandings are inevitable. The important thing is to remember to handle them calmly. Put the gun down. Just, put it down. No one needs to get hurt. Otherwise you risk blowing out your lungs and eyeballs in a glorious screaming rampage the likes of which would make Christ’s Rapture look like a children’s magic show. Me and Phil have “rolling with the punches” down to an art form. Because, hello? Have you tried conducting business without eyeballs or lungs? Me neither. I can imagine it’s difficult.



Here's a shitty picture!



So now I have to back track to the house, where my roommate is presumably charging my camera battery (which we're not even sure will work) AFTER I put a full day in at work. Meaning from 5pm I have to do 2 hours of travelling (without traffic) in 2 hours at rush hour, with a stop to pick up my camera. In other words...

Driver's start your engines...

4:55pm: I waste no time and bolt out the office door. HEAT. The wall of hot air hits me like a starving 900-pound Silverback trying to get at my banana-dipped body.  I sprint home. I have to head 30 minutes south (traffic permitting), stop at my house, pickup my camera, and sprint 1 hour 10 minutes north (traffic permitting) back to Queens to make it to the client by 7pm.

Sweat level: Minor (AC is cranked in the car)

My drawing ability.

5:30pm: I bolt through my house door like Kramer on Seinfeld, skidding on the wood floor in my dress shoes as I get to my camera on the kitchen table. The battery is laid out, fully charged, ready to go. Awesome. I see my photography guru roommate is home and ask him for any last-second pointers because, oh yeah, I have photography skills on par with my drawing ability.

5:35pm: I Starsky and Hutch my way into my car and roll out through Long Beach, which also doubles as a Stop sign infested swamp of sorrows where snails laugh at you as they screech pass with your girlfriend in their passenger seat, waving at you as you watch in wide-eyed horror. How could she? And with him? He’s not even a mammal! After my DMV-like frustration subsides, I realize there’s no fighting it, just relax and accept it.

Sweat level: Increasing to Marginal (due to frustration)

5:45pm: as I pay the $2 toll to get onto Nassau Expressway (which you can’t E-Z Pass inexplicably) here comes the rush hour!

6:00pm: Merge onto the Van Wyck. Interesting side note: Van Wyck is German for “vehicular gang rape” as traffic just forms with or without reasoning and claims many lives, furthering my hypothesis that Western Long Island highways are the Bermuda triangle of land-travel.

6:17pm: In a desperate man-move I decide to go Magellan on this bitch and make my own way, throwing caution and my GPS to the wind, and striking out on my own. Anywhere else can’t be worse than this.

6:32pm: I quickly become another “should have followed the GPS statistic.”

6:34pm: I throw curses and begin speaking in tongues as I merge onto the Long Island Expressway to try and jump onto an adjacent highway, only to realize there’s a divider you cannot cross and traffic is at a dead stop as well.

6:45pm: Rerouting…

Sweat level: Happening, but manageable (frustration and sitting too long, but AC is on)

6:55pm: Make it through Queens’ best replica of the Long Beach swamp of sorrows and proceed to stop and go for what seems like 943 blocks until I reach the restaurant.

7:10pm: Park and do a quick search for signage and curb-painting, because if I get another ticket, I am just going to snap. I even ask a local:

“Sir, do you know if it’s OK if I park here?”

“Yemen. Onlything Ugotta worryboudda breakit into yanno?” he laughed.

I move my car.

7:15pm: Find another spot. This one works. Everything else looks good, let’s rock!

Sweat level: Now we’re sweating. Movement in the heat, it’s on.

7:17pm: Call Phil. No answer.

I walk 5 blocks to the place. Knowing Phil took the subway and since this is primarily his client, I decide waiting for him is the best option. So I wait. And I sweat.

Sweat level: Heavy facial sweating and almost through the undershirt, in danger of being visible to the public eye. Apply napkins as necessary.

I seek refuge in a nearby Deli, which also doubles as a Honduran sweatshop. Their AC was actually blowing heat, if that’s possible, and their 8 year old was working the register. After realizing this is clearly a joke, I leave and decide waiting at the restaurant alone can’t be worse than slowly dying in and around various establishments in Queens.

I got inside, and I’m met with what can only be described as heaven. A blast of cool, inviting air, a completely empty, gorgeous venue, and the only people inside are three gorgeous girls who go “Hi there!!!” in their energetic, employee-mandated tone. Either way, I felt welcome.

I’m waiting for my partner, I need to speak with your manager. We’re here to shoot some footage for your Social Media Marketing campaigns.

“Great, let’s introduce you to Carlos.”

From here, I met Carlos, who introduced me to Tony, then Dino, who is partners with Tommy, but he wasn’t there that evening, and I’m sure eventually it all ties back to Kevin Bacon. We start the shoot with the kitchen which goes something like this---

Tony puts on a tophat and sprouts horns and says:

“Let us take you to the blast furnace.”

   



I ate one thing from this picture.

My sweat glands are on red alert. And when we get into the kitchen. It’s on. When I say it’s on, I mean full force let’s make jokes about this because I am noticeably through my shirt. My shins were sweating. I didn’t even know shins could sweat. I repeatedly told these guys they were heroes for working in the conditions and I was going to make sure OSHA knew that they should be recognized for their valor. We got some great footage of meals that they made in seconds that would take me 94 tries and $1.8 million in food store patronage to successfully create.

After I got off the kitchen water ride, I literally had to go dry off in the bathroom and put my suit jacket back on just to be presentable. Luckily none of the managers were present and I recovered quickly.

 

A  bellydancing ninja attacks a spectator



We got back upstairs and took some shots of the outside, then BAM here come the bellydancing ninjas. Myself and Phil do our best impression of the crocodile hunter and stalk around these girls while they’re doing all sorts of exotic dance moves with everything up to and including sabers. It was pretty awesome, not going to lie. However, I was slightly disappointed that through all their fluid dance moves they never picked up the swords once to fight one another. Only slightly.

Great belly dancers - awful fencers



Me and Phil decide d to get a couple of shots of the girls after their performance for some promo material and it’s here that things got fun. On the last shot of theevening Phil suggests doing a “high angle” shot which involves him getting on a chair above the girls. I pass him my camera and “FWOOP.”

The neck strap gave out and down went the camera.

Thankfully, the camera broke the neck strap’s fall and the neck strap was fine. I just need to fix my camera.

Then I got a ticket on the way home because remember that E-Z passless $2 toll for the Nassau Expressway? Turns out you need $2 for that. And if you don’t pay that? It’s $20.

Sometimes the house has to win. I’ll get them next time. All in all the night wasn’t a total bust though, some of the pictures came out decent I did eventually go to sleep. I take my victories where I can! Love you.

The sea monster with lemon is to die for



Here is a whole meal of food



This is where guys take girls to trick them into marriage.





                                                                                                                                                     

     



And here is how you gain weight

Here's how to incorrectly measure lighting!

 


Crystal Meth > Sleep

Days left at the old job: 8


Wednesday night/Thursday morning - 2am...

"Hey man, what about this *I doze off* ngghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..................."

*I snap awake* "............contract. Right?"

"Yeah, I think it's awesome."

I don't know why I do that -- act like I'm actually awake when my body is clearly shutting down. It's like some strange phenomenon where I get very defensive over passing out. Like I have something to prove. "WHAT, I WASN'T FALLING ASLEEP, BRO. I LISTENED TO EVERYTHING YOU SAID AND WILL GIVE YOU A RESPONSE BASED ON NO SUCCESSFULLY PROCESSED INFORMATION." 

A word on "Right:" "Right" is a buzz word. In the Bullshitters Bible Appendix, a "buzz word" is a word used to trigger a response. If someone says "Right?" it generally means they are fairly confident in their answer and are just looking for a little reassurance, so it is safe to agree. 

In any case, whether my dear step brother Eliatt (who has also become a client) desperately needs me to stay up and help him write a business plan, or Odin himself comes riding down on a phoenix to jam lightning bolts firmly into my unwilling rectum, my body is closed for business. As much as you want to, there's no stopping it. Like Ryan Reynolds' career.

Sleepy time...

So it turns out if you are tired, your body will eventually need to catch up on sleep: whether you like it or not. I know this because my alarm went off, and I kept sleeping.

Alarm went: "Hey man, don't you have something to do today?"
Body went: "Yeah, telling you to shut your whore mouth."

This process went on until 10:11am. Not 9:11am. 10:11am. For those of you keeping score at home, that's just waking up more than an hour after you're supposed to be at work.The effects of this entrepreneurial lifestyle are really starting to show. I'm pissed because 10:11am is pretty obscenely late, even for me. I'm all about banker's hours and not adhering to the corporate 9-5, but in the end I am looking to not be an asshole.

Most would think "Who cares? You're quitting." But let's get one thing straight:

I aim to be the best at everything I do. Even if it's quitting.

I kicked my brother who's asleep on the couch. And we headed to work so I can pickup my car which has now been sitting in Syosset for two days. I traipse (the definitions of this word could not be more opposite) through the door at 11:00am. One hour before lunch. (My excuse is that I don't give excuses). And not five minutes after I sit down at the (soon to be) ex-desk, I get a call from an unknown number on the cell phone:

"Mr. Musto! It's your best client."
"How many numbers do you have?"
"Enough to confuse you! Listen, I need you to cover an event for us on Sunday. We're going to be featuring our product in a parade in the city. you need to be there. And also, we need to figure out a Yelp and Foursquare campaign. Also I want to know your thoughts on plugging a couple of events out on the Island for another initiative. I sent you over that contact number yesterday, what progress were you able to make on it, anything? And I definitely want to know your thoughts about maybe making two separate Facebook pages for one of my companies. Also--


Yeah, I'm cross-eyed at this point.

"--OK, I definitely can and will accomplish ALL of those things for you. But I need you to do me a favor and email them to me. I know that you know as well as I do I can promise the world over the phone, but as soon as I'm off, it's gone."
"No problem, no problem, I'll get everything to you."
"Great stuff, thanks."
"Oh, and Chris?"
"Yessir."
"Red or blue?"
"I'm not understanding."
"For your yacht when you make me millions and we're rolling in it. Red or blue."
"I've always been a fan of red myself."

I came back to my desk and plopped back down trying to shake off the aneurysm of information shot at me. And I'm hit with an email alert from my (soon to be) ex boss.

"Exit summary"


Click that.

Chris,


Here is a really long list of shit that you need to address before you leave.

From here embarked a dizzying montage of hoop-jumping and smoke and mirrors the likes of which would force Sigfried and Roy to shit out one of their tigers, just to bump up their act a few notches and keep pace. The ability to prioritize, multitask, and keep people at bay while making them think they are the first on your list is an artform that I have mastered. I won't lie and say when you take on more stuff than you can handle, things won't fall through the cracks, they will. But when it comes to handling a large load (that's what she said) successfully? "People Skills" is so far at the top of the "Let's Get Through This" list, that it's in some galaxy scientists can only speculate on.

And when you're tired and need to accomplish all of this, you know what always helps me? My good friend, coffee.You see, I was never big into needing "mind altering" substances to function. Sure, I drink alcohol, but that's more because I can't cope with how shitty reality is than actually needing it to function.

However, and this especially goes for lately; I've discovered coffee. Like a preteen pubescent boy that figures out "hey, that thing down there does more than pee!" I am plunging headlong into this bright and colorful world of coffee and coffee related products. My mornings now looks something like this:


Me before coffee:

Me during coffee:

Me after coffee:

Ok, I don't actually turn into a super happy cartoon baby octopus, but I'm demonstrating a point: that I now know how to use pictures and movies in a blog. Which makes this adventure that much more exciting.

Next up: Myself and Phil cover our first event, and one of us loses a possession to mermaid belly dancers. (I'm not talking about a V card).


Daily Stats:
Cups of coffee consumed - 5

Eliatts kicked - 1
Time spent looking up Popeye Spinach Song - 13 hours 51 minutes
Times I listened to my entire playlist on loop - 4
Items not worth writing about - 7

Hey man, can I borrow your car? I overslept my ride and mine's at the train station

Karma works in funny ways...

"Hey, hey"

"Yes, John Stamos?"

"That was Adele with 'Rolling in the Deep.'"

"I don't get what that means. It's your turn to shoot this basketball into this giant Golden Retriever's mouth over here."

"8:22 on this sunny Wednesday and good morning to you out there, it's going to be a hot one but not nearly as hot as this weekend..."

"What are you talking about? We're literally inside of a whale right now playing Dogsketball. Why the hell is it so windy in here?"

It is at that point I snapped awake to the purring jet engine that is my room fan, and the loud, mostly unintelligible mix of static, DJ chatter and Sweet Caroline belting out of my little white alarm clock.

I scrambled to turn it off. 8:25am. The day prior, I had coordinated with a friend (Adam) from the (soon to be) ex-office who lives nearby enough to carpool. That way, I could leave my car at the train station by work and take the train directly home from the city. He was awesome enough to oblige, and said he'd be at my house at...

...8am.

Shit. Ok, check the phone. 4 Missed Calls/1 Text

Text from Work Adam - 7:55am:

I'm in ur living room, don't know which bedroom is urs and ur unresponsive. Sorry man, gotta go.

Shit. No car, no carpool. And work is a half hour drive (and a $40 cab ride away). Could be better, but hey, could always be worse. Keep it positive. I call Adam and apologize profusely for oversleeping. And, in a fit of desperation, asked my roommate to borrow his car. He was awesome enough to oblige.

2 Cars 1 Chris...

I pull up to the office at around 9:30am, immediately trying to figure out how I'm going to get two cars home. It's just not going to happen. Now here's some quick nuggets of info worth chewing on:

The original plan of attack was this:

1. Enter Adam's vehicle at 8am
2. Have a discussion about hot women, life, and some injury or another that one of us has sustained (active lifestyle, ladies)
3. Arrive at Syosset train station around 8:45-9:00am depending on traffic (Rubbernecking rant to follow soon).
4. Procure my vehicle and proceed to work by 8:55-9:10 depending on traffic
5. Live happily ever after.

Instead, the Entrepreneur oversleep-schedule made the plan look something like this:

1. Play dogsketball with John Stamos inside of a dream whale from October to 8:22am
2. Wake up feeling like an absolutely inconveniencing idiot
3. Apologize, then further inconvenience people around you by borrowing vehicles like an autoless drug addict
4. Arrive to work at 9:30am.
5. Proceed to work while figuring out how to grab your car.

Here's where Karma comes into play: without taking up too much of your precious reading time (be sure to read at an angle where you can see people approaching out of your peripheral, if your back is directly to your boss, it always helps to start a garbage-can fire in another room as a distraction).

12:50am train home to Long Beach the night prior...

"Tickets, please."

(Deliriously tired, and having just sprinted to catch the train, I reach into my left pocket, the money pocket, and pull out $8.75 - price of a ticket? $8.25, on board price? Upwards of $20.00).

"Sorry this is all I have."

"All right, I'll take the $8.00 and I'm going to have to give you a summons  for the rest then."

"I'm sorry, it's late, I had to sprint to make this train. I obviously have the money to pay for the face value of a ticket, there's no one on this train, no one's being inconvenienced, can I pay you the ticket price and you let it slide?"

"Sorry, it's standard practice."

...Son of a bitch. 

And then I did it. I lied. In front of God and country I lied to that train conductor who was just doing his job. I admit it.

Playing to the "it's 1:05am, he probably does not want to deal with this as much as I do" card, I tried to make his decision an easier one...

"You know what, man? I can't find my wallet anywhere."

"Oh, really?"

"I think I lost it while I was sprinting to catch this train, I don't know if you saw me on the ground over there."

"Huh. Well ok, do you have ID then?"

"Wait, what?"

"Huh? Oh right, the wallet."

"Yeah..."

"All right, wait here I'll be right back."

*Ding* The next stop is...Long Beach

He never came back. Free train ride....

But hang on, everyone! I'm about to use a knowledge cannon to siege your mind. Nothing in life is free. It always has some price. One you can see, and one you can't. The one you can see is generally in dollars, or wompum, or whatever items your culture uses to assign value to something. The other, is in things like stress, emotional turmoil, and your spouse cheating on you. Everything on this planet is assigned a price, and it will be paid.

12:00pm on the current day...

"Yo, Adam."

"What's up man?"

"Maybe we could try this carpool thing again tomorrow, and I won't suck at it."

"Yeah defi--oh wait, you know what dude? I'm not coming in at all the rest of this week."

Okay, so I'm going to need another way to get my car, or I will be without it (barring a very out of the way car ride for someone) for quite some time. Then it kicks in, that business nag in the back of my head:

"Why don't you do some excel spread sheets, Chris? Calm down for a bit. Let the smooth, simple array of endless white boxes pierce your eyes...take your mind off things."

"That's it, great. Now check out some stuff for your clients, make sure you hit your tweet and facebook post quota for the day. Excellent. I'm getting the hang of this. Now go ahead and write a procedure checklist on something. Another bright white screen to stare at for an hour or so. Stare at it until you feel the calm, soothing headache that is most likely the result of a tumor developing in your frontal lobe. Great, stuff Chris. Wonderful work."

Client email comes in:

Chris,

Can you please call this woman? I want to arrange something to work her into our campaign.

*Phone number.*

Regards,

Your best client


I'm on it.

Work email comes in:


Chris, 


Can you do something that will distract you from other things you are doing?


Sincerely, 
Sincerely.


I'm on it.

"Hey, Chris."

"Yeah John."

Meet John. He's best described a tornado. He's also my life coach. My tornado coach.

"I don't want food permits, you can give that to someone else. Give it to Kiki, what does she even do anyway?"

"Ok, no problem."

"Isn't it wild how quickly we're figuring out how little we need you?"

John says everything flatly, and with a smirk. He's always joking, but to anyone even remotely sensitive, he comes off as brutal. I happen to love our back and forths.

"Yeah, you know what? Can you help me with something?"

"What is it?"

"Can you run me to my car at the train station?"

"Yeah sure. What time is it?"

"3:00."

"Sure, I leave at 4:00 for the doctor anyway."

"Crabs again?"

"No, no! My day of crabs is long over. What a nightmare!! You get it from the one you least expect! ALWAYS remember that!"

Life Coach advice #79: You always get crabs from the one you least expect. 

We pull up to the train station at 4pm. Note that time.

"Good luck with the car, Mr. Forbes CEO."
"Thanks man, I really appreciate it."
"If you need anything give me a call."


I walk up to my car. Something is out of place on the bumper. Two deep scratches. Son of a bee-sting. That's a bumtastic shucker right there. Hop in my car, fire it up. Mirrors, check. Emergency brake, check. A/C on ---WHOA that's actually a fireplace now, A/C off. Windows down, check. Giant piece of paper blocking my view out the windshield, check.

And there it was. Cue the music when they reveal the killer.

For the violation parking a vehicle in the Town of Oyster Bay without a visible permit, A summons in the amount of $105.00 and a mandatory court appearance on August 31, 2011. Time of issue: 1:07pm. Here's the "I just received a damn ticket reaction list"

• Look at your watch.
• Regardless of the time, look around as if the ticket was just written and the guy is nearby.
• As if when you find him you're going to approach him and he's going to say "Oh, hey man, sorry for the misunderstanding." And takes the ticket back, promptly feeding it right back into the machine and out comes buy-one get-one coupons for Meow Mix. "On your way now, friend!" He says, as you clap and cheer, and then he whistles and his horse comes trotting up, and he rides off shouting, "Always pay your taxes!"
• Immediately take pictures with your cell phone as if this is the scene of a murder. Be sure to get the undercarriage of the car, this might prove you still did not have a permit.
• Look around furiously for a sign that says you can't park here without a permit
• Upon locating the sign two spots down from your car, begin to crop all of the photos that show the giant sign
• Tell yourself "Well at least I don't have to pay it until August." 

Recap: I received the summons at 1:07pm. The original plan had me there at 8:55-9:10am depending on traffic. My summons  on the Long Beach train would have been issued at around, you pieced that together already? Look at you go. 1:07am. Karma, my friends. You pay now, or you pay later. Be honest, I know I'll be cutting checks to the LIRR like it's a contest to meet Justin Bieber going forward.

I parked the car at the office, drove my roommates car home, and invited my step brother over as a distraction from the day's events. My time spent with him? Working out a business plan. Oh, we're in it to win it now. 

I asked him if he'd be interested in staying over and carpooling the next day.  He was awesome enough to oblige. 

Fortune cookie: Bad days require a good attitude and better friends. And if that doesn't work, meth up and try again tomorrow.

Days left at the old job: 11

Hours of sleep last night: 4.5

Daily Stats

Cups of coffee: 3

Spreadsheets worked on: 7

Times John said something hurtful: 9

Times John said something honest: 9

Let's carpool tomorrow so I can leave my car at the train station

"Uh, hello? Are you listening?" said my (soon to be) ex-coworker.

"What? Oh, no." ....At least I'm honest.

How could I pay attention? I swaggered into the (soon to be) ex-office at noon after having to deal with a networking/security deposit debacle at my old apartment community (I won't give you the opportunity to pry). So no, I don't want to hear about your love for the Arctic Monkeys (great band, by the way). I've got too much stuff to do. From there the day consisted of:

(soon to be) ex-coworker: "Hey, Chris, can we sit down at some point and go over the Fire Marshal contact and approval procedure?"
"Yeah, absolut--" *phone rings* 
Send to voicemail
"Anyway--" *voicemail chimes* "Hang on one second"
Check voicemail

Social Media Client:"Mr. Musto!! I don't even know why I have your cell phone number, you're never going to answer anyway. It's your best client, I need to talk to you immediately about some plans I had for some upcom--"

Cell phone rings interrupting the voicemail
Hold up a finger to the (soon to be) ex-coworker

"Hey Chris! Were you able to get in touch with that contact at the club you had for my birthday party tonight?"
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, let me call him as soon as I hang up with y--"
Office line rings
"Let me call you back."

Answer office line
Cover mouthpiece to the office phone.
Address soon to be ex-coworker: "Can we do this a little later?"
"Yeah sure, we'll schedule a time"

Pick up the office line

"Hey Chris? Hi. We're a client with the Home Show?"
"Is that a question? If not, that's fantastic news, sir."
"Hah! No, it's not a question! I was just wondering if you knew where emails went when they got deleted?"
"That's pretty heavy stuff sir, I'd like to think they go to a better place than here, a giant golden inbox in the sky."
"Haha, no well we were cleaning out old emails in preparation for your exhibitor kit and we deleted all of our inbox on accident, I was wondering if you could help us."
"Well sir, we're not an IT firm so--"
"No, I know, but just take a few minutes and help us out"
"Well sir what I can do is go ahead and take this opportunity to hit you in the head with a tack hammer in hopes that the resulting contusion will scar and form a mass that can function as a temporary brain for you. Then I will transfer you to IT."
*Cell phone rings*

Ok, I made that last part up. Don't do that. But you get the point. This transition process is hectic.

Call the 'Wah'mbulance, I signed up for this, I know. But that's not the point of this, so back off and jam your foot apparatus into your mouth for a second and keep reading. The point of this little self proclimation is that, never in my life have I ever felt more alive, and more amped. Not due only to the nervous excitement of leaving my job and taking a risk, but it's just an intense sense of purpose. I'm not changing the world by doing Social Media Marketing and training people to take over my position as an event coordinator, but regardless of whatever I'm doing (or not doing), I'm doing (or not doing) it for me. It's my stamp on it. People will directly equate the service with me, not some company I can hide behind the veil of. It's mine. If I was a dog, this would be my opportunity to spread my golden mark all over the fire hydrant that is the world. Disgusting? Yes. But inspriational? I hope so.

I bailed out of the office around 6:30 and took the train into Penn for the evening, since myself and Phil had a meeting of the minds with our lead graphic design/web master/cool dude Serge to go over our business cards/logo design. Creating. We are men. We make fire.

It wasn't long on the subway before I had a crippling stomach ache. Oh god. Poison? Have I reached some incredible status that I have an assassin out ther--oh, I haven't eaten yet today.

Getting to Phil's house, I made that abundantly clear as I proceeded to eat:

• a bowl of frosted mini-wheats
• 2 packs of starburst gushers (AWESOME, by the way).
• a buffalo chicken salad
• spinach and artichoke huumus and a sleeve of wheat crackers
• a pack of sour patch kids

Take THAT, Paleo diet.

After I was satiated we proceeded to do contract agreements and logo design discussion until I had to catch the 12:50am train, which was an advenutre again...

"Hey man, it's 12:15, you shouldn't dilly-dally, especially since you missed the train yesterday." said Phil wisely.
"I'll be fine, not going to let THAT happen again."

Ok.

Later that train...

A meteoric gap in between subway trains means I'm cutting it close no matter how much time I think I have. Electric blue button down in hand, I step onto the train at 12:30am and have to go from 116th to 34th. About 15 minutes in travel time, which my 4th grade math tells me that will leave me 5 minutes of lead time to get from subway to train home. However, some factors worth noting:

• I need to purchase a ticket for the train home
• There's construction on the subway tracks

As the train pulled up to the Penn Station stop at 12:48, I was waiting at the exit door like a Derby Horse at the starting gate. If I miss this 12:50 train, the next one is 2:50, not 1:50. I will be getting home at 2am, or 4am. Only this sprint will decide.

And with a sprint worthy of Michael Johnson recognition, dodging baby carriages (yeah, WHO has their kid out at 1am?) and hurdling homeless along the way, I hit the stairs to track 15, hear the "WE'RE CLOSING THE DOORS NOW" beeping, jump down the remaining six stairs, roll ungracefully and lunge through the doors like a Musto rag doll, face down. Doors closed. I'm going home.

"Tickets, please."

Bummer.

Days left at the old job: 12

Daily Stats
Hours of Sleep Night Prior - 3
Hours of Sleep That Night - 3
Bums Hurdled - 2
Babies Dodged - 1
Phone Calls Handled - 147
Cars Abandoned at Train Stations - 1

Fortune Cookie: No matter what happens in life, know that you are a better singer than Nicki Minaj.

But which one is Farrah Fawcet?

8:00am - Alarm 1 - Denial: "No WAY this alarm is going off already. I had literally just started playing cloud tag with my mom and the cast of three's company." SNOOZE.

8:11am - Alarm 2 - Anger: " I GET IT YOU'RE AN ALARM CLOCK. Are you shitting me? I will plaster of paris this screeching box-harpy and dropkick it into the god damn ocean." SNOOZE

8:22am - Alarm 3 - Bargaining: "I don't need to eat cereal, shower, brush my teeth or wear pants. I did all of that yesterday. Presto, 10 more minutes." SNOOZE

8:33am - Alarm 4 - Depression: "Oh God. I'm actually going to die from this. Is this throbbing in my head a tumor? Can you die from lack of sleep? What have I done? Why have I done this to myself?" SNOOZE

8:45am - Alarm 5 - Acceptance: "Ok the train leaves in 20 minutes, might be time to put on pants and do other things that make me culturally acceptable."

Needless to say, me and mornings don't get along. (I made the train as the doors were closing with no time to purchase a ticket).

Fast forward to more train adventure...

There's something consoling about enjoying a rice krispie treat at a Penn Station Starbucks while enduring the "wait of shame" that comes with missing your 11:00pm train. Surprisingly, there's a good amount of latemongers that couldn't get their ass out the door in time to make their train either. This Starbucks is feeling particularly shamey.

I'm tired. The kind of tired that can only be described as "entrepreneurially spent." I zoned out hard on the subway to Penn Station. I was locked in a deep, meditative concentration; a nirvana that had me completely staring off into space, before realizing after a solid three minutes that space was actually the plaid crotch of the all-too-clearly creeped out guy sitting across from me. Is there etiquette in that situation? Are you supposed to acknowledge that you were, for all he knows, just locked in a steadfast admiration of his plaid-clad twig and giggle-berries? What do you say?

"Looking good?" No...
 "How's it hangin?" *Wink* Eh...
"Sorry for staring directly at your penis." Well that's just brash.

I chose a different path. The one where I cough and give him a look like I was an insulted foreigner, who was hurt he didn't return the junk-stare that was a customary greeting amongst my Martian culture. It seemed to work, but how do you even gauge that? As long as he's not hammer-punching my clavicle in a fit of homophobic rage, we're good.

Today was an 8 hour grind that myself, Phil (my partner), and Joe (his Godsend of a cousin who's as diligent as he is creative and helpful) embarked upon in order to lock up some clients. It's pretty awesome, the only way I can put it is in Grand Theft Auto terms: you have these locations you have to go to within a certain time limit, meet this absolute wide cast of characters, and take on various missions for money. However, the scope of our jobs happen to diverge slightly from the charm of stealing a crime boss's helicopter and flying it into his wife and kids (your typical mission in Grand Theft Auto) to the more realistic (and far less munitions-reliant) Social Media Marketing initiative.

Our tour de queens was a six hour, five meeting gauntlet full of sales pitch after sales pitch, strategy presentations, and price negotiations with guys who have been in business for decades. They all pulled out their bib and wetnap when they saw these raw, 20-30 something business owners waltz through the door. I get off on it though. The perception of being a budding, young entrepreneur that has little clue as to how things work in business, then impressing them with how composed we are, prepared we are, and how professional our pitch is (and of course, there's always the sobering instances where you realize you're a budding, young entrepreneur that has little clue as to how things work in business which usually end in tears). Either way it's awesome. The mental chess of an interview, that is. The teamwork and brainstorming that come with a two and a half hour presentation pitch that can all go up in smoke with one wrong move in the close. It's entertaining, and the people you meet are always different and dynamic. It's like they're real people! Some highlights of the folks we've had today:

1. "DONNA! I'll meet with you in a second, right after the male version of Charlie's Angels gets out of my office."

2. "I'm going to share with you some business advice, as I will often do. Today your piece of advice is: never blow smoke up your clients ass. If you say you will deliver something, deliver it. If you can't do it. Say you can't do it. Stick to your guns. Don't devalue yourself. And don't let people poke holes in you. People will respect you more for telling them no to something then taking it on and failing, or worse, not completing it."

3. "I will bury this guy."

4. "If you get me to where I need to go, gentlemen, in four months we won't have to worry about a damn thing."

We also got our first taste of negotiating. I'm not talking "Oh hey, can I rape you on price? No? Ok. How about you rape me on price? No that won't work either" negotiations. I'm talking roll up the sleeves after a two hour pitch, lean back in your chair and go "let's talk numbers" negotiation. The kind of negotiation that comes at about the 55 minute mark of a Michael Douglas film and has about 10 back and forths before reaching an accord. With quote #2 above having been spoken to us an hour prior to this meeting, it was fresh in our head, and we performed admirably under fire. Myself and Phil stood our ground and spun most things he threw at us into reasons he should go with our pricing. It was a fantastic display of wits, between all of us, even Joe got involved in between scribbling down notes furiously. If it was a game of Connect Four, it would have been block after block. When it was all settled, though he definitely got a lot for a bargain, we held onto what could be a very large client for what still ends up being worth our while. Myself and Philip play well off each other, he playing the calm, calculated artistic visionary, and me the energetic, ambitious strategist it's good chemistry to pitch from.

Daily Stats

Total potential client visits for the day: 5

Total clients secured: 5

Total curbs struck with vehicle: 1

Total Asian families witnessing hardcore stoplight light jam session: 1

Total ounces of sweat: 4,987

Total protein platters eaten at Starbucks: 2

Tomorrow is back to the death-watch at the rapidly approaching ex-job. So begins my time transitioning into becoming a consultant, and in turn, prepping my department to transition with that.

Days left at the old job: 13

See you Space Cowboy.

With naught but a pocket full 'o 5 bucks and dreams

I quit my job. With nothing lined up but a vision and endless optimism. Why, you ask? It's not that I have anything against my current company, I actually hold them pretty dear to me. It's just that relentless feeling of "so, this is it, huh?" when you enter a job. Everyday I would go to lunch and listen to the same banter, go to my desk and plug away at the same excel spreadsheets, make the same phone calls and fax the same stuff I forgot to sign so I have to send an email to disregard the prior fax and re-fax a correctly signed copy. All the while spending my days half split between knowing I was destined for greater things, and currently underachieving, and day-dreaming about a robot ninja strike on my office that would leave the entire place in chaos, with everyone looking for a hero that was just shirtless and enough and covered in coconut oil enough to barbarian strike them down with a massive, group-oriented sleeper hold the likes of Brutus Beefcake. (For tips on how to properly administer the sleeper hold on your friends, children, and neighbor's dog) It was just the doldrums.

When I entered the workforce at the ripe age of 23 (a lot of people go to school for seven years), no one in the business college told me "hey, you're going to most likely hate what you do for a living." But they knew it. Know how I know? Because looking back I realized most of THEM hated what they did for a living. They were all surly guidance counselors at a SUNY school. Who the hell wakes up as a wide-eyed five year old and goes: "Holy shit I want to be a public college guidance counselor!!!!" No you don't. You want to be a space cowboy, riding a stallion made of lava into a star system made of lucky charms and magic. Instead you help kids with Chlamydia pick classes they're going to cut in order to catch more Chlamydia. I digress.

In short: people who hate their jobs were (and are) in charge of grooming the future workforce of America. They refuse to let them know the terrible fate that awaits that graduating class; that they too will most likely hate their jobs, or worse yet, actively push them AWAY from pursuing their dreams. Preaching things like:

"Stay in school or you WILL pump gas, it is the only job available to the uneducated."
"Space cowboys don't exist."
"Porn is only for people less hairy than you, unless you find a wolfman niche."

Alright, this isn't an anti-guidance counselor/college rant. It's actually the opposite (college is incredibly important for a lot of reasons, not all of them involving cheerleaders). But for sake of security, and stability, like SO many others, I was stuck in that mundane office routine. The same one that drives men to cheat on their secretaries with their wives just to infuse a little action and romance into the monotony of having an office affair. It just became too much. I have youth. I have wanderlust. I have unbridled ambition. Combine that with  an offer I believe in with a trustworthy friend. Event coordinator Chris never stood a chance. I took the leap of faith that most secure people preach against. I sat down, incredibly nervously in front of my boss of three years and said: "This is tough for me, but I'm giving you my notice." Done. It's real.

So I'm no motivational speaker, and I'm certainly not presenting this as a "safety in numbers" feelgood campaign for my own benefit, but all I'm saying is to all you Space Cowboys out there, don't be afraid to strap on a six-gun, a cowboy helmet, and hop on that lava-steed to set a course for the stars. Especially if you have no family, and no real responsibilities...now is the time. Get after it. In the time you spent reading this you could have been one step closer to your goal. And don't remmeber: the hardest part is always the first step.

So here we go with my first step, with a partner, a vision for how running a business should be, and a pocket full 'o 5 bucks and dreams. No, I'm not an actor (yet - still pitching Wolfman porn to producers), no, I'm not a writer (this is a hobby, not a job), but this is no less the story of a starving dreamer, an artist whose pallet is his ability to sell and network, whose canvas is the world of Social Networking. Bring it on, professional world: Your knight in shining sandals is ready to casual Friday the stale right out of your team-building exercises. Enter: The Antiprofessional.

Days left at the old job: 14

New Client Meetings tomorrow:
Four in Astoria: 12pm -5pm
One in Long Island City: 6pm

Surreal is so real.

CRASH! The car slammed into the deer with such force that the front of the car folded around the woodland critter's body, sending a crimson spray into the night air. Looking around at everyone in the car, I realized they were as shocked as I was, mostly due to the fact that that this never happened. But I'm sure it got your attention.

No seriously, this blog is way more boring than that. I actually got excited writing that, not because of the thought of death, that's terrible, (unless you're Casey Anthony, then apparently it's celebratory) but because Fiction is better than your life, and my life. It's why drugs and Santa Claus exist.

Come share with me the collective sigh of mediocrity that is another self-reflecting spittoon among a sea of spittoons, that celebrates my views on things for your reading "eh"njoyment. But the difference is? I've got stories. Oh, yes. Here are the facts as of July 17, 2011:

I am 26 years old.
I've lost 65 pounds from my heaviest, to now.

I have two sisters that are six and four, a brother that is one, and another sibling on the way.

I have two step brothers that are my age.

I just quit my job.

I am chasing a dream.

I traveled for 3 years for work all over the country, with a team that is really a Fraternity.

I have a fear of being out of control (mostly flying). Hilarity ensues ------^
I have come home early from one such trip to catch my girlfriend, in bed with another dude, in the nude.

I enjoy awkward situations, and seek them out wherever possible. (Not creepy awkward, but fun awkward).

I am friend-described as "sociopathically social" - I am uncomfortably social in social settings.

I am self-described as an "eccentric actor" who few people get to really know, not out of mysterious charm, but more because I enjoy making people happy, which sociopathically social part of me does WAY better.

So there's plenty to share and spin on. Buckle up.

Fortune cookie: Keep smiling, unless you have gross teeth, then just do that closed mouth smile thing that awkward people do.