All About "The Morgue"
OK, here's the deal, you've read my cast of characters, right? If not, go do so... you'll need it.
"The Morgue", so aptly named because the shop that recently opened that I now work for is deader than a doornail, is a tattooing and body piercing studio. Although most of us working there have been in the business for years, a former employee of ours from our last shop, is now (oddly) our boss.
Cryptkeeper (the boss) doesn't understand that you have to ADVERTISE to get a business off the ground. We've only been open a few weeks, and it's been SO dead, that Hubby and I actually took the day off today. I think we called in an hour or more after the start of the business day. What's the difference? I haven't seen a customer in a week.
I swear, I spend more on gas money in a week than I make in two. I'd be better off moving back to Hollywood. More on that later.
If Cryptkeeper would put a couple of bucks into a radio ad, we'd have more money than the ad costs coming in to make up for it, but apparently his friend "who has a radio show" that's on one time a week for one hour and at SOME point mentions us very briefly (so quick that we've never even caught it). Apparently, that's supposed to be our "advertising".
Funny thing, this "advertising" hasn't brought in one single customer. It probably has something to do with the fact that her show not only sucks donkey balls, but nobody ever listens to it. It's a show that showcases local talent, and although they usually play THREE of the local band's songs in the hour, it's mostly a fucking gab-fest with her talking to the band about ridiculous things like the color of their underwear. Do YOU want to fucking know about that or do you want to hear the music? Whatever. When the station realizes how low the ratings are, they'll cut her anyway, just like everyone else did when she was "promoting" local bands for venues.
Cryptkeeper and his wife, Ghosthunter, tend to gravitate towards listening to gothy and hard (wretched hard) punk and acid thrash-type metal music that you can't even make out ANY words for. Unfortunately, they also don't realize that this frightens customers. They are coming to us for a good tattooing and piercing experience, and as much as our soothing voices and loads of information put them at ease, they're still VERY tense when it comes time for the procedure because of this crashing, screaming, angry music. I just don't understand how they can equate "I eat your face as a sacrifice to the undead" as comforting. To each his own, I suppose.
The Morgue, as of now, is still VERY quiet (insert crickets chirping here), yet we're looking for other artists. We've picked up a stray who we'll call "The Kid". The Kid is a younger guy that was another artist's apprentice for a time. Sadly, for him, the other artist lost his tattooing job and the apprenticeship went out the window. Cryptkeeper is taking him on, despite the fact that he is still working his way out of his own apprenticeship. It's like the blind leading the blind here, with Hubby attempting to perform miracles and break The Kid of his bad habits and teach both of them the correct way to do things.
Cryptkeeper and Ghosthunter sort of let me have my run of the place (for now... or at least until they locate this blog. HA). They know that not only am I the most experienced piercer in the area, but also the fact that I actually ran several studios before kind of helps because I know my way around everything from paperwork to accounting. "I'm not just a piercer, I'm the freaking president". Ok, so that's fucked up. What I really mean is I've done so many professional jobs in the past that piercing sounds like it should only be a hobby for me. Instead of making a six-figure income, I've dropped well back into the low 5-figures just because I enjoy it.
Although I'd love to tell you all of the fucked up things going on at the shop, right now there's not a whole lot of "going on" going on... so I'll tell you about my own OCD. You may get a kick out of it, everyone else thinks I'm nuts and if we're ever robbed, they'll know where to find everything, but every last one of my cabinets and drawers in my piercing room are marked with what is in them. I went so far as to label outside of my room as well. Every dirty area is labeled. Incoming and Outgoing mail is marked. Every shelf in the storage room is marked. Even drawers that have copy paper, office supplies, clipboards, and business cards. Yep, they're ALL labeled. So I'm a bit nutty, at least everyone can find stuff without asking ME. Either way, all this labeling has been keeping me busy with our lack of business.
Hell, even if someone were to attempt to break in and rob us, MY stuff is so spread out that it will take them an hour to get everything. And I'm not even remotely kidding about that. Good luck getting past the break room, too. Yeah, I know you're gonna get snacky and eat my donettes and fat free tuna & crackers. You just watch.
Damn it, you steal my fat free tuna & crackers, I may have to get all twisted on your ass. I'll take that fake sword off the wall and slice you a new one with it. You'd LIKE that, wouldn't you.
Sick fuck.
Damn it. Ran off on a tangent. Fucking ADHD.
"The Morgue", so aptly named because the shop that recently opened that I now work for is deader than a doornail, is a tattooing and body piercing studio. Although most of us working there have been in the business for years, a former employee of ours from our last shop, is now (oddly) our boss.
Cryptkeeper (the boss) doesn't understand that you have to ADVERTISE to get a business off the ground. We've only been open a few weeks, and it's been SO dead, that Hubby and I actually took the day off today. I think we called in an hour or more after the start of the business day. What's the difference? I haven't seen a customer in a week.
I swear, I spend more on gas money in a week than I make in two. I'd be better off moving back to Hollywood. More on that later.
If Cryptkeeper would put a couple of bucks into a radio ad, we'd have more money than the ad costs coming in to make up for it, but apparently his friend "who has a radio show" that's on one time a week for one hour and at SOME point mentions us very briefly (so quick that we've never even caught it). Apparently, that's supposed to be our "advertising".
Funny thing, this "advertising" hasn't brought in one single customer. It probably has something to do with the fact that her show not only sucks donkey balls, but nobody ever listens to it. It's a show that showcases local talent, and although they usually play THREE of the local band's songs in the hour, it's mostly a fucking gab-fest with her talking to the band about ridiculous things like the color of their underwear. Do YOU want to fucking know about that or do you want to hear the music? Whatever. When the station realizes how low the ratings are, they'll cut her anyway, just like everyone else did when she was "promoting" local bands for venues.
Cryptkeeper and his wife, Ghosthunter, tend to gravitate towards listening to gothy and hard (wretched hard) punk and acid thrash-type metal music that you can't even make out ANY words for. Unfortunately, they also don't realize that this frightens customers. They are coming to us for a good tattooing and piercing experience, and as much as our soothing voices and loads of information put them at ease, they're still VERY tense when it comes time for the procedure because of this crashing, screaming, angry music. I just don't understand how they can equate "I eat your face as a sacrifice to the undead" as comforting. To each his own, I suppose.
The Morgue, as of now, is still VERY quiet (insert crickets chirping here), yet we're looking for other artists. We've picked up a stray who we'll call "The Kid". The Kid is a younger guy that was another artist's apprentice for a time. Sadly, for him, the other artist lost his tattooing job and the apprenticeship went out the window. Cryptkeeper is taking him on, despite the fact that he is still working his way out of his own apprenticeship. It's like the blind leading the blind here, with Hubby attempting to perform miracles and break The Kid of his bad habits and teach both of them the correct way to do things.
Cryptkeeper and Ghosthunter sort of let me have my run of the place (for now... or at least until they locate this blog. HA). They know that not only am I the most experienced piercer in the area, but also the fact that I actually ran several studios before kind of helps because I know my way around everything from paperwork to accounting. "I'm not just a piercer, I'm the freaking president". Ok, so that's fucked up. What I really mean is I've done so many professional jobs in the past that piercing sounds like it should only be a hobby for me. Instead of making a six-figure income, I've dropped well back into the low 5-figures just because I enjoy it.
Although I'd love to tell you all of the fucked up things going on at the shop, right now there's not a whole lot of "going on" going on... so I'll tell you about my own OCD. You may get a kick out of it, everyone else thinks I'm nuts and if we're ever robbed, they'll know where to find everything, but every last one of my cabinets and drawers in my piercing room are marked with what is in them. I went so far as to label outside of my room as well. Every dirty area is labeled. Incoming and Outgoing mail is marked. Every shelf in the storage room is marked. Even drawers that have copy paper, office supplies, clipboards, and business cards. Yep, they're ALL labeled. So I'm a bit nutty, at least everyone can find stuff without asking ME. Either way, all this labeling has been keeping me busy with our lack of business.
Hell, even if someone were to attempt to break in and rob us, MY stuff is so spread out that it will take them an hour to get everything. And I'm not even remotely kidding about that. Good luck getting past the break room, too. Yeah, I know you're gonna get snacky and eat my donettes and fat free tuna & crackers. You just watch.
Damn it, you steal my fat free tuna & crackers, I may have to get all twisted on your ass. I'll take that fake sword off the wall and slice you a new one with it. You'd LIKE that, wouldn't you.
Sick fuck.
Damn it. Ran off on a tangent. Fucking ADHD.
posted by Apparently Crazy at 9:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home