A jolly
couple were the first in the jazz club. Don't misunderstand... they weren't
overweight jolly, they were happy jolly. The man had a yippee, boisterous
laugh, which would be great if I became a stand-up comic. I'd plant him in the
crowd and everyone would double over with laughter with his prompt. I could be
a success with his helpful laugh. This couple has two children. One away at
college; the other with a disability works at Pic 'n Save grocery store, which
got me thinking of a favorite escape plan. When the stresses of life become too
much, I think of how nice it could be to be the Cart Boy for a busy
supermarket. (I'm not diminishing or making fun of the couple's son. I don't
know what his challenges are or what he does for the store.) My escape fantasy is to be the Cart Boy, with
no responsibility beyond retrieving carts from the lot. People would smile at
me--some patronizing, some with pity, and some with genuine warmth. I've just
had an epiphany! In a sense, as The Doorman at the jazz club, I've achieved
that level of simplicity. There are no daunting expectations beyond collecting
the cover charge (collecting the cart, so to speak). I can vary my approach
from having a stern street face to a simpleton grin, which I've actually done
in the same night. No one questions how I behave. I can be pleasant, moody,
quirky, or anything in the bipolar range. When it gets down to it, I am after
all just The Doorman. No expectations beyond the simple task. No Human Resource
defecations. No rules beyond the norm of civility (and even these can be
stretched). I have achieved my Cart Boy dream in my role as The Doorman. People
smile at me--some patronizing, some with
pity, and some with genuine warmth, because I'm nothing more than The Doorman .
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