Art Every Day 075


Falling 002

This afternoon I was leaving Sushi Zero One (where I’d just eaten some fabulous Sunset Roll), when I ran into my friend Cynthia at the corner of West Pender and Richards. Cynthia and I haven’t seen one another in quite some time, maybe a year or so, but we remain fond of one another.

Cynthia hired me to be her assistant at the job that looked perfect, but turned out to be the worst fit of any job I’ve ever had. I worked there for about a year and a half, every day of the last six months thinking “This is the day they’re going to fire me,” and one day they did. The day after I returned from vacation, I was asked to attend a meeting at 4:30 pm. The end of my working day was 5 pm, and I knew what was coming, and I knew that it would take longer than 30 minutes. The HR person couldn’t be there until 4:30 pm and we stayed there until 6 pm, so the bastards made me stay an hour overtime so that they could escort me off the premises. It seems to me that there is something wrong with this scenario.

After leaving there I was sick or infirm for pretty much the following year and a half – herniated discs – twice, gout once, serious respiratory problems, and then a kidney infection which put me in the hospital for two weeks (which forced me to cancel the trip to Mexico that I’d planned with a bunch of my Montreal friends) – probably resulting from the stress. Grr-rrr, to paraphrase Gollum, “I hates that place forever…”

One of the good things that I got from that place was my friendship with Cynthia, who left there two months after hiring me to be her assistant, five months into her employment there. Cynthia also got ill, for about six months after leaving there. Perhaps there is a co-relation between time spent there and time recovering from having spent time there. Maybe I’ll consult with some of the many, many other disgruntled former employees of that place, see if we can come up with a formula outlining the proportionality relationship between the two periods: period of recovery and period of employment. I suspect that dr/dt = 1. Or very close to 1.

Anyway, Cynthia has one piece of my art, gifted to her when she left our mutual workplace: Pender Street Midwinter from the time before I was numbering them. She likes my work, and she wanted to see the samples that I always carry around in case I find a shop which might want to sell them, So, I was able to show her, and she immediately fell in love with Falling 002, and bought it then and there, right on Pender Street. We giggled together as the money changed hands, as though we were doing a drug deal or something illicit; art as controlled substance or activity. 





~ by thiscassandra on Friday 15 November 2013.

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