So, it looks like I am going to be a Horror nights grunt again.
I went down to the universal employment office yesterday after work, Alan in tow. The
interviews had started at 6, we arrived a little after 6:30. There was a line snaking it's
way out the door. So qued up and waited. We actually ended up being in the very last
group that got interviewed. Only a couple other people and a legless girl got in line
behind us. Well, she had one leg.
The process was as long and boring as I remembered. You shuffle in and they stick a
number on your chest. You get photographed. You fill out a little a little form and then
wait in one room. They then move you to another room to wait some more. Then some
homo who looked exactly like that dude from 'perfect strangers' ushers you into the
interview room with a long speech about how you are not supposed to touch the table.
You then show yourself off to the horror night's director and then they shuffle you out.
They then tell you whether or not you made the cut, and sent everyone home.
It took something around two and half hours. I had been through it before so I brought
my book. I swear I was the oldest person there. The vast majority were teens and college
students, some of them hopefully clutching their glamour photo's and portfolios. Many of
them were itchy twitchy teens that would not sit still. Constantly twitching, yelping and
reaching over to slap each other. I did my best to ignore them. While we were in line for
the interview one dude actually stripped down to his boxers and put on a pair of sweats,
some sort of ankle weights, and a different shirt. I guess he thought he was going to
perform some stunts. Nothing like that happened, we just said out names, read off the
number on our shirt, and then shuffled out.
I got a part. Thankfully it's in a house. They have a/c. So I do not have to be running
around in the streets. (Although the guys riding the pirate ship last year in the parade
looked like they had an easy gig.) I will have to be extra careful this year and try to avoid
being hit by drunks. I wonder if I can find some valium for the really bad nights.
Alan did not get a part. At least not right off. They will probably end up calling him later
on. However, he was just too average. He's not a little gnome man, and he's not a big fat
freak. Plus he was wearing his lawn care shirt with the American flag patch. I bet the
flaky American-hating director spied it out and snipped him because of it. Heh.
I got home around 10 pm. There was a little hole in the side of the yard with a city
caution sign and a blinky light. Today Alan said there was a big steamshovel out there.
(or whatever they are called.. I know it does not run on steam) and they are digging up
my yard to replace a sewer pipe. Maybe they will put in some free sod when they are
done.
Mmm.. free sod.
I started Neil Gaiman's 'Neverwhere' while I was waiting last night. It's pretty good so
far. He reminds me of a Clive Barker who does not take himself seriously. The book is
good and filled with rich characters, even if they show up only for a few moments. (I was
particularly amused by the powdered up bodyguard called 'The Fop With No Name') I
am sure it will keep me amused. No I have not read his comics and I do not plan on it.
(I just now noticed that 'neverwhere' was turned into a television series way back in 1996. Shows what I know. I never heard of it. I will have to go pick it up on dvd)
2026 Update
I'm setting the dial for 2006, where Ed wears a number and reads Neil Gaiman while twitchy teens audition for scares.
Ah, the ancient ritual of filling out a paper form in a room full of strangers, then being shuffled to another room to fill out the same form. That was the entire economy back then: waiting your turn, wearing a sticker, hoping someone with a clipboard liked your face. Now it's an online portal, a recorded video interview, and an algorithm that decides if you're 'gnome-man' enough. Ed brought a book; 2026 Ed would bring a phone and stare at it like everyone else, ignoring the ankle-weight guy. Also, nobody strips down to sweats in a line anymore—or if they do, it's for a TikTok bit and the casting director sees it before arriving. The casual cruelty of that era is the loudest relic: the throwaway slurs, the 'flaky American-hating director' theory, the gleeful observation about a one-legged applicant. You could say any of that in 2006 and everyone shrugged. You'd get a training video, a sensitivity seminar, and a seat by the door now. Even the free sod is gone—nothing is free, Ed.
“2006 Ed, when the stunt hopeful stripped to his boxers and put on ankle weights in the interview line, did you think, 'that's my competition,' or did you just make a note for your book? And did you end up needing the Valium?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, honest answer: that stunt guy didn't scare me, he just gave me a good note for the book. I mean, here I am, a guy who fell off his own roof, standing in line with a book, watching this kid strip down to his boxers and strap on ankle weights like he's about to audition for the Olympics of scaring. I wasn't thinking 'competition,' I was thinking 'that poor kid's knees are gonna hate him.' And I'm in a house with A/C, not doing flips off the pirate ship, so I figure we're in different leagues anyway. As for the Valium — not yet, thank God. I keep telling myself it's a last resort, and so far the worst I've had is a sore throat and a drunk who thought my mannequin was a real person. The cats still bring me dead animals, the sewer guys are still digging up my yard, and I still haven't read any comics. Life's weird. Take that, foul germs.
