A break...

My contract was cancelled today.  Again.

I’m f*cking over it!

I’ve made a decision because I can’t keep doing a job I no longer feel any affinity for to maintain a lifestyle I don’t have.  I have no lifestyle, because I’m always playing catch up financially and always broke. 

I brought two tops last week, in the sale…I hadn’t brought any clothes for over six months because I haven’t been able to afford to.  I could last weekend.  Now I’ll be taking them back (or at least the one I haven’t worn).

My decision.  I thought about doing this last time I was out of work in January and even mentioned it to a few people and I was talked out of it.  This time I’m doing it.

I’m going to pack what I need to survive into some boxes and sell, donate or chuck out everything else.  Books, clothes, furniture, original artworks, kitchen stuff, the works..  And as much as it pains me, the animals will also be looking for homes.  They can be separated.  Max will have to go back to the Rescue he belongs to.

I will be moving out of this house to somewhere, wherever.

There is no current time frame, but seeing as I’m out of work as of today, I reckon it might be reasonably quick.

Only yesterday I thought I was finally catching a break.  I even tossed about the idea of having a long weekend away for the first time in five years, remembering the last trip away I had, my mum died while I was on it.

I’ve done everything in the last six years, yes it’s six years since I became single, I’ve tried starting my own businesses, worked hard and studied hard, but to nought.  It’s a constant uphill struggle with no end in sight because the clouds are so heavy.

Right now I want to drive into the bush, then out into the desert and do what so many have done…disappear.

This may seem like drastic action, but I can’t keep struggling in what is a short life.  My kidneys will kill me before I get old…

I’m doing this because while I will be paid for two weeks, that will be the ONLY money I will have.  I have no savings, nothing I can mortgage and my credit rating isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.  No amount of offers to lend money will dissuade me, I’ll only have to pay it back at some point.

The troughs outnumber the peaks.  And fear I’m very close to drowning.

Payment Required

As a stand-up comedian there are a few things you expect when turning up to a gig.

1. There is no dressing room.  You'll put your bag in the corner, it may or may not have beer spilled on it when you get back to it. In fact, it may not be there at all.

2. You'll buy your own drinks.  All night.

3. You won't get paid enough, if you get paid at all, it won't be enough to cover this weeks rent or mortgage payment, but it may be enough to cover out of pocket expensens for the night, eg. parking or train fare, if you're lucky.

4. As a woman, you won't get laid.  Men generally don't find women that will make a joke out of their relationship attractive, unless it's another comedian, then the chances are its open season and you'd better watch what you say and do and you damn well, better be able to do cart wheels in bed.

5. You may have to stand for the duration if it's a 'sell out' crowd.  Chances are you'll get to sit.

What you don't expect is to have to pay to get in.

Wednesday night I turned up to a gig and was asked to 'donate' $5 to get in, however, it wasn't really a donation.  A donation implies it's optional.  This wasn't.

It was explained to me like this.  'We're asking all the acts to donation $5 towards the $1000 prize money.'  I was told this at least half a dozen times.  Not having $5 on me (I'd had to pay for parking with card) one of the comedians offered to spot me.  Please refer to point 3 above.

I overheard a conversation between the door girl and an associate of the promoter, who had previously told me he hadn't had a chance to shower today, it look like it had a been a week, but that's another story I feel.  The door girl asked if she should be charging the judges too.  He said 'No, the judges are doing us a favour coming out, the acts, well, you know, they're just acts'.  I was furious; I'd already been feeling unsettled as I'd been rushing to get there for the call time, spent ages to find a parking place and ended up paying twenty bucks to make sure I didn't get a parking ticket.  I declined to perform. 

The promoter proceeded to tell me all about her issues with the sound system earlier in the evening and how she wasn't being paid either, and then begged me to go on and tell my story.  

I told her that at this stage I was stressed enough to feel vaguely sick and even if I wanted too speak in front of an audience my head space was now completely wrong for performing.  

What started out as an issue with having to pay, it was never an issue that I wasn't being paid, turned into an issue of value.

Does this promoter value the acts?  Yes, she booked them and expected them to come and entertain her paying customers (who incidentally also paid five buck a head for entry), but does she truly value and believe in them?  It's my belief that if she really valued them she would charge the punters a little more, ten to seventeen dollars is pretty much the going rate in Sydney, after all she'd be providing a quality evening of comedy, music, magic and storytelling and customers expect a certain level of entertainment for the price of entry.

You see a band in a pub, you pay $10 you get a pleasant surprise when they turn out to be really good.
You pay $200 to see Whitney (may she rest in peace) and you expect class, when you get much less than you expected you are upset.

What sort of quality do you think the punters where expecting last night with five dollar entry?   What was the expectation of the promoter with such a low price of admission?

I'd say, she had very low expectations and like Naomi Campbell said a few years ago 'I never get out of bed for less than ten dollars'... Or something like that, anyway ;)