I used to work the graveyard shift as a night auditor at a pair of shitty hotels, across the street from a crack park in downtown Seattle.  I was eventually, and intentionally, fired but, like most shitty jobs, this one had some Pros mixed in with its Cons. The pros were the comical wingnuts and crackheads, the fact that I met my girlfriend there, my free pizza hook ups every night, and that it was not uncommon for patrons to kick me down free weed.  Among the cons were the not-so comical wingnuts and crackheads, my incompetent and self-important dipshit of a boss (who was over-compensating for his secretive, yet discovered, history for having a taste for man wiener), that I was constantly scheduled as a security guard (not my “job”), and the time that the vato with the dress shirt and neck tattoo tricked me into smoking a sherm blunt with him at 3 in the morning.  The most frustrating situations were the ones where the Cons actually canceled out the Pros all together. One example was when I had learned that the Swedish psych band, DUNGEN, was staying in the hotel and had offered the entire staff free tickets to their local performance.  Sure, it was a “sweet” bonus for having a shitty job, but the problem was that I was actually working at that shitty job during DUNGEN‘s performance.  It would take almost 4 more years before I realized to what magnitude I had missed out. Read the rest of this entry →