Saturday, November 24, 2012

The Doorman's Diary 11.23.12

I've been The Doorman for less than a third of the club's history, so when when customers from the past show up they can be irritating--and sometimes downright obnoxious. They enter with a sense of entitlement and false ownership. We have such a group tonight. They were with a jazz radio station that disappeared some time ago. They haven't been back to the club for at least four years--maybe longer--but loudly flaunt and exert themselves on the club. For them, much is the same here. Yet, much has changed. When the former on-air personality asks me in an incredulous tone about "the new guys" playing in the band and do Blah and Blah still play here, I explain that the new guys have been playing here for years and that Blah and Blah, like most of us, have disappeared without a glimmer. "Even you, my dear, will be forgotten in two generations at best--in less time than you think, you'll be no better than dust in the wind. Any and all you've accomplished, your essence, your core will be forgotten and no living soul will have a clue that you ever existed." The look on her face was priceless. I pivoted and returned to the door where I could relish my own replaceable, forgettable, meaningless existence as The Doorman at the jazz club.

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