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Sunday, April 15, 2012

4-09-12 Survival Jobs for Writer-Musicians – Starter Job #97 (Flirtin’ & Hurtin’ at the Main Squeeze? Pt. 2)


Oh, that last part sounded very Marilyn (Monroe), didn’t it?  Well, cool beans and right on, eh?  Flirtation is one of those little kindnesses that is always in style – so long as it’s not insincere (how d’ya like them double negative apples?). I sincerely want others to feel good and to be fed and hydrated in the style they enjoy.

At any rate, nice customers like David would come in -- in his case, he’d come in alone, most times, and bring a book, reading with his tall glass of ale to the side. (No wonder I was intrigued – I have a soft spot for bookworms, inveterate reader I be.)

And then, there was a man who was not just a flirt but a king seducer: the kind of guy who gets randier with each drink & doesn’t know when to stop. He was kind of scary and dark, and very sexy. . . very reminiscent of John Cale, with a great Alan Rickman type voice.  Dangerous.  And yes, this guy was a professional actor. We’ll call him Paul.

Paul had a good friend, another actor, who played character roles (like Sancho Panza in Don Quixote and Renfield in an early ‘80’s Dracula movie), named Tony.  Tony was kind of homely, with baggy paunches under tired puppy dog eyes, and a short, stocky body.  These two unlikely (but then again, perfect foils so it made sense) friends would both be quite loquacious after dinner & drinks at the Main Squeeze.  Although Londoners at the time, hey were both born and bred in Liverpool.

Paul was as moody and closed as Tony was upbeat and open.  I don’t think they acted in the same productions but their friendship went way back and they shared anecdotes ad infinitum.  But at the end of the night, Paul would “pull a bird” and Tony usually rolled home, alone.

I have a feeling they kept me on at the Main Squeeze because I could be cool and professional as a server, but was funny and caring and never a pain in the ass to the customers.  Even though people like that bitchy manageress, Hazel, made it plain they didn’t like me and I should “pull up my socks,” there was no question that I was an integral part of the serving staff. . . 


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