The Night Job: The Old Man And The Road

Sometimes you have to say, “Fuck it!” and just do what’s right.  A few years back, I did something that would have cost me my job, well my part-time job.  After a trip to New York, one that didn’t go so well, I decided to limit my free time and take on a night job. (One day I’ll write about that enlightening trip)  I was in my second year of my graduate program at the University of North Texas, had a full-time job as a branch manager at the library, and I was still rehabbing my house as it was a starter home that needed plenty of love.  My work schedule was always different.  I had some days where I worked early hours and some when I worked a late shift.  Even with all of that, I decided to take a part-time gig to pay off some debt but to restrict my free time in order to focus on myself.  At that time, I was distracted and did not have the patience to see what else I can do with my free time.  It’s something you don’t really understand until you live alone and are constantly in paralyzing thought.  I needed some perspective.

Once I made up my mind to keep busy, I immediately started looking for part-time work.  I always had a curiosity about working a night job.  My father had worked a night job when I was a kid and he would come home to sleep but my younger brother and I would try to play with him.  He was hardly home during that time and my mother was always yell at us, “Let your Dad sleep!”  As I got older, I always wanted to figure out how he managed to work two or three jobs so I decided to give it a go.  I applied for a night auditor position at a nearby hotel.  I now worked Saturday and Sunday nights from 11pm to 7am.  I wasn’t sure how long I would last at this position.  I figured, at a minimum, I would try it for a month and if it was driving me crazy, I would quit.

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Here’s a glamorous shot of a night auditor.  Seems quite regal right?
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Here’s a realistic shot of a night auditor. Quite depressing isn’t it?

I began working my night job and I managed to go through a month quickly.  I worked through my last two semesters and still managed to graduate with a 4.0. I’m allowed to gloat on that feat.  My sleep was all fucked up during this time.  Sunday nights were the worst.  Once I finished at 7am, I would drive in rush hour traffic to go home and would try to sleep for 2 to 3 hours before going to my full-time job all dazed and confused.  After the library I would finally come home and sleep.  Sometimes I could not fall asleep right away and felt like I had insomnia.  My sleep would get back to normal by the middle of the week only to mess it up again come Saturday night.  I completed a year working my night job before calling it quits.  I quit because I had decided to move to Washington, D.C.  Had I stayed in Houston longer, I probably would have continued working the night job to pay off some of the mortgage on the house.  Unfortunately, there really wasn’t a lot of interesting things that happened during my tenure at the hotel.  I really would have thought I would have had seen some really crazy things, especially on a Saturday night but there was only one that I can really say was memorable.

It was August and I had come in to work my shift on a Sunday night.  As soon as I walked in to relieve my co-worker, I saw that she was struggling to communicate with an older Hispanic man.  I stepped in and started talking to him in Spanish.  He was asking about a bus depot and was looking for a bus schedule.  He was about my Dad’s age and he told me that the he had come from Galveston looking for work because of the damage Hurricane Ike had inflicted on that city.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to find work and was told that there was work in San Antonio.  He said he left his home in New Orleans and was looking to get some money to send back to his family.  I don’t remember his name and he seemed very happy that he had someone to talk to.  I was able to find him the information on the bus schedule and he was very grateful for the information.  He continued with his small talk and at times kept interrupting me while I started to settle in to work.  I thought it was odd that he kept hanging around in the lobby area after it looked like he would be on his way but then he asked me if he could sit in the dining area to drink his cup of coffee.  I had no problem with that so he grabbed his cup and sat down by the TV, that always played the CNN news.

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If this was going to be my last day of work then it would have been worth it!

A little after midnight, I noticed the old man slightly slumped over on a wooden chair.  I went over to check on him and he seemed to jump up as soon as I asked him if he was okay.  He acted like he was awake the whole time and he said he was just enjoying his coffee, so again, I let him be.  As I started to walking back towards the front desk, I thought of my father and my mother.  I couldn’t help but wonder about the sacrifices they made coming to this country.  Sometimes you can’t help but think that someone helped my parents in their journey while settling into this country.  These were little acts of kindness that they may or may not remember.  I thought about a couple of stories that my parents had told me as a kid and the one that stuck out to me was the story about my father being able to convince immigration officers in Miami to give him a visa for 10 days to go to New York.  I always wondered how my father was able to convince them to let him go.  My father always said that they felt bad for him and that’s why they let him go.  Here I was feeling bad for the old man who was trying to get some sleep.  I stood at the front desk and said to myself, I should do something.  I immediately looked at the bookings at the hotel and noticed quite a few rooms available.  I decided to give the old man a room.  I knew I could get away with it but I figured if I were to get fired for this, it would be worth it.  At that moment I didn’t care what type of repercussions were coming my way.  So I got the keys to one of the suites and woke up the old man.  I walked him to the room and told him I would wake him up so that he could catch the bus.  I didn’t want him sleeping on a wooden chair.  I couldn’t help but think of my dad.

An hour before my shift was over, I walked over and knocked on the door.  It was time for him to get to the bus depot.  The old man was very grateful for the room and he seemed to be in good spirits.  I wished him luck on finding work in San Antonio and he walked towards the bus depot.

Every time my shift ended on a Monday morning, I would be very tired but on that particular morning, I felt good.  I didn’t feel as sleepy and wanted to tell my friends what I did but I knew it could cost me my job, so I just told my best friend Daisy about it.  I hope the old man found some work in San Antonio.  I am glad that for one night, he was able to get some sleep on a comfortable bed rather than a wooden chair or a metal bench.  I’m pretty sure not everyone would have had the same response that I did.  It’s possible that someone else would have kicked him out of the hotel or let him sleep on that chair for a little bit before kicking him out of the lobby area.  Or worse, someone would have called the cops on him if they couldn’t get past the language barrier, who knows.  I am usually very skeptical about people trying to get something past me but in this case I didn’t feel that way.  I hope that’s the case because if it isn’t, I’m going to become Liam Neeson from Taken take out that old man.  I will find you Old Man!  I WILL FIND YOU!

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The Dad Moment

My son was born last year and of course, my life changed forever.  When my son was born, I honestly couldn’t believe it.  I was thinking, here is this little being who is going to call me “Dad” one day.  What is this going to be like?  I didn’t even know what to do when I physically saw him for the first time.  I just touched him with my finger to see if he’s real!  It was just too surreal and for some reason, the first 24 hours with Nik felt like a dream.

The first couple of days, the first few weeks were memorable.  He was so tiny, he took a lot of cat naps, and seemed to be curious about his surroundings whenever his eyes were open.  I was learning everything I could about taking care of a newborn baby.  My friends and family were always asking me, “What’s it like being a Dad?”  “How do you feel now that you are a Dad?”  Honestly, I didn’t feel anything Dad-like during this time.  I was expecting it to hit me right away but I was consumed by making sure I was there for my family.  I wanted to make sure my wife and I were doing everything right in taking care of Nik.  We were learning what works best for Nik and following the outline of things to do and look out for from our pediatrician. A part of me felt like I was learning to babysit a new child.  I wasn’t panicking that I didn’t feel like a Dad but I figured it would hit me in time.  In the first couple of weeks of having Nik in the house, I thought about it whenever someone asked me that question otherwise it really wasn’t on the forefront of my mind.

I would say about 3 months or 4 months in, it finally happened.  I wish I would have recorded the date now looking back but the memory is still there.  It was early on a Saturday morning, around 4 or 5am when Nik started to cry.  Jennifer faintly said, “It’s your turn now.” and I was reluctant to get up.  I knew Jennifer was tired and had been up with him earlier so I had no choice but to get up.  I remember being so annoyed with Nik and I was like, “Alright, let’s do this.”  I knew he wasn’t hungry as Jennifer had given him a bottle when she was up with him.  So I figured he either had to be lulled back to sleep or needed a diaper change.  His diaper was full so I picked him up and took him to the changing table in the other room.  I turned on the light and put him on the changing table.  I was the only one that really used the changing table.  Jennifer and her mother would change him on the fly on the couch or on the bed.  I just needed to have all the diapers, wipes, and the Peepee Teepee around me so that I wouldn’t mess things up on the couch or the bed.  My fear was to have Nik pee all over me or all over the bed or couch.  If you don’t know what the Peepee Teepee is, it’s a cone shaped cloth that basically absorbs the pee in case your baby starts going while your changing them.  I only ended up using once, so I guess I got lucky. lol

Nik had calmed down when we got into the other room.  He was very calm when I put him on the changing table.  I remember taking off the soiled diaper and began grabbing the new diaper when all of a sudden a loud fart emerged.  He farts loud and I wake up instantly.  Up until that moment, I thought baby farts were supposed to be a soft noise, a cute noise, something associated with adorable and the phrase “awwwww”.  This was not adorable whatsoever.  This sounded like a man fart.  The type of fart you hear in a public men’s bathroom.  I was shocked and looked at Nik with astonishment.  I was very awake now.  I looked at Nik and was like, “Only a baby but farts like a grown man! I’m so proud of you!” and I start laughing uncontrollably.  My laugh was contagious that Nik starts laughing uncontrollably as well.  It was the first time that we had a moment like that.  I connected with him more than ever and it was the first time I had him laughing like that.  I wasn’t into making silly faces or silly noises.  Jennifer would make him laugh like that and she would tease me for not trying to do that with Nik.  I would get a smile from him from time to time but not a giggle.

After changing his diaper, I held him for a long time.  I remember looking directly at him and saying, “I love you son!”  I had woke up with an attitude and now I’m looking at my son and saying, “Every single moment I spend time with you is worth it!” with a giant grin on my face.  I remember not wanting to go back to sleep in that moment, I even wanted to wake up Jennifer for that moment but quickly realized she was too tired to be bothered.

I put Nik back to sleep in the bassinet and remember crawling back to bed.  I remember not falling asleep right away as I was so happy to have that moment with Nik. I couldn’t wait to tell Jennifer about it.  I remember being excited that I can finally answer my friends and family with a sincere response that made me feel proud to be a father.

Shark Tank, The Profit, and R. Kelly make me believe I can fly!

My wife, Jennifer, loves to watch Shark Tank and The Profit.  I am always reluctant to watch but when I do, I get hooked.  I am starting to like The Profit more than Shark Tank because I just like Marcus Lemonis.  Marcus doesn’t fit the TV mold and I believe that he’s a no non-sense type of guy.  The Profit has done some follow ups where they will show businesses that Marcus invested in and have failed, which makes me buy into the show more.  After watching The Profit and Shark Tank, I’m left thinking about the people who are profiled on the show.  They will tell their story of how they got started and how passionate they are about the product they are selling.  I’m amazed by their motivation and their passion for their work.  I’m left wondering, what exactly is my passion?  I’m still drawing a blank.

Who doesn’t want to be the boss of their own company?  Who doesn’t want to set their own hours?  Who doesn’t want to live out their dream of becoming a success? Who doesn’t want to fly their own jet, buy random cars, and live lavishly?  I do!!!  But I’m still drawing a blank.  I don’t really have a product to sell.  I don’t have an idea for something useful. I don’t have something I want to create anywhere in my mind. Anywhere! I also don’t know any geniuses that I can piggyback off of either.

I want to become that contestant so that I can become the next Profit!  I want to be the next Mark Cuban.  Shoot, I just want to be rich, and invest on some motivated geniuses so I can get richer.  I mean, that just sounds amazing and fun.  Sell me your pitch, let me see if you bullshitting me, maybe I’ll give you some money but you have to give me some of your soul too, let’s crunch the numbers…okay, let’s shake.  Let me be honest here, I don’t want to be Michael Jordan rich but if I can live off of $100k for the next 70 years, I would be more than okay with that.  I think once I’m 107 years of age, I can look back and say, this was an awesome ride and sleep in peace.

As much as I don’t like watching reality shows, these two shows do get me going and they make me believe.  That’s what matters right? Belief?  I still get a kick about the Squatty Potty or the thing that illuminates your toilet bowl at night.  I should have come up with that!  lol  Just like I should have come up with the lottery numbers too.  I have to admit, when I listen to R. Kelly’s I Believe I Can Fly, it does take me to a place that I’ve been thinking about since I was 13.  The thought of dunking on a basketball hoop that’s 10 feet up in the air. Now at 36, I’ll take 8.5 feet in the air while someone takes a photo and posting it on social media so that it looks like an impossible feat.  For a good 10 seconds while listening to I Believe I can Fly, I fly, and yell “I’M FLYING MOMMA!”  Now I’m back at my desk trying to figure how to make some money!

Update: I’ve invested in Acorns. Slowly but surely folks!

Best Views Ever: 1 view on March 22nd 2016

It is now September 21st and I’m finally making an attempt to write a blog. I had some ambition in March.  I had the idea to want to start blogging and maybe write a children’s book or a pop-up book.  Six months later, I’m starting to blog.  How about that!  I don’t feel so shitty now.

It is just about 6 months later and a lot has changed since March.  In April, after a long court battle, my wife, Jennifer, won full custody of her daughter and she now lives with us full time.  I call Jennifer my wife even though we’re not officially married.  I also say my wife because if I do anything stupid, I’m pretty much sleeping on the couch or in my car and she has to the power to burn the house down.  The household also includes my son, Nik, who turned one in May and now my 12 year old step-daughter, Danielle.

I’ve decided to start writing.  I need to start somewhere and I want to see what this blogging world is like.  I feel like the word “blogging” is an outdated term that some 67 year old says after they’ve retired from some government job.  “So how’s retirement Marie?  Oh it’s wonderful, I’m getting on my computer and blogging about my travels, it’s so wonderful!”  Fucking wonderful!  It’s like dancing on top of a mountain like the lady from The Sound of Fucking Music.  Blogging just sounds so uncool.  It’s as uncool like when I say, “You and your teenage world.” to my step-daughter.  She really hates me saying that.  I do it because I want to sound like a teacher trying to be “down” with their students and also to annoy her.  I guess I’m going to write about whatever comes to mind.  I hearken back to my Myspace writing days.  They were fun and full of creativity.  I hope to catch some of that now.  It’s been 10 years since I’ve done that.  So maybe I should call it “Re-living My Myspace Days Again” instead of blogging.  Now that sounds really old.

I’m going to write about something I’m passionate about, either in the moment, in the present, things I’m thinking about for the future, and other random stuff.  I’m going to incorporate random pop culture references, pictures, videos, and something unique.  I don’t know what that uniqueness is but I’ll start with one follower, probably my wife, and build it up to our family members.  Force them to read this.  Then I’ll add my friends.  Force them to read this.  Then post on Facebook of my newest piece!  Then force those “friends” to goddamn read it.  I’ll try to garner a following of maybe 50.  Then maybe 100.  Then maybe 200k followers.

Now I’m pumped. Soon, I will have to re-read that paragraph to get hyped again.  Motivation is something that I will try to work on.  I will do my best to not disappoint the fan base.