Anybody who's known me in the last five years knows that when I was a theatre manager, the one thing I said more than anything else was "I hate this job". That's why when they finally kicked me out, I wasn't exactly disappointed. If anything I was disappointed that they didn't just drop me with a severance package instead of keeping me on at that firetrap in Simi Valley.
Anyway, I'm in receipt of THE BOOK OF THE RIO, the multi-volume set of formerly blank books that employees of that single-screen house used to while away their copious free time. I started poking at it this morning, and there, about 5 pages in, all the way from 1984, I recognized my own handwriting:
I gotta get out of this job. I wonder what a shoe salesman makes?
And I made good on it too! It took maybe 20 years more than it should have, but results are results.