Before I explain quitting the paper sales job, I must give a little back story. When I was a freshman in college, my English comp prof suggested that I major in English or even technical writing. I told my dad this and he said, “Bullshit. Major in Business.” Since he was paying the bills, I took his suggestion, but majored in marketing. Reflecting on my college Finance and Accounting grades, as compared to my Advertising and Creative Writing grades, my prof had a better handle on my talents. Not that I’m a great writer, but I’m a shitty economist. Luckily that has no bearing on whether or not you can sell a product. I guess from that perspective, my dad was right, I was majoring in the art of bullshit.

It took a lot of that bullshit to convince my parents that I needed to quit a job that paid me 50K and provided me with a corporate AmEx and a car. But I knew the buzz words that would win them over. “I think I want to get my master’s”. My sister was working on her master’s at the time and the pitch involved living with her, paying for it myself and finally majoring in English in order to teach. Considering my father worked in education all his life, it was an easy sale.

The truth of why I quit? I realized I didn’t want to spend my life being a corporate mench. I had been moonlighting in stand up for over a year and felt more alive hanging my ass out to dry on a stage than I did selling paper. Stand up reconnected me to my creativity and I (thinking it was brilliant) put together a monthly cartoon newsletter for all my customers that talked about my product and how the character Ceaseless Coldcall (a balding middle aged man in a bad suit) changed his sales career by selling it. It was sarcastic and the customers loved it. [Remember this for later: the artist was a bartender I met in Providence, RI after a long sales day] When the VP of Sales came for a visit, an event similar to the Pope showing up at your office door, he handed me a copy of that newsletter that a customer had sent him, remarking that it was a nice change from the typical rep. My supportive co-worker said, “Well, what do you think?” and the VP replied, “Whatever it takes.”  What? Whatever it takes? Not, “Great job!” or “Hey, that kind of ingenuity belongs at corporate!” or “Bless you, my daughter.” In that moment I realized I was a corporate mench and that he only came to visit us so he could play golf in Connecticut.

So, after several rounds of exit interviews, two Rastafarians packed me and my cat [Morrissey, who was saved from the jaws of a dog in near Harvard and I answered an ad in the paper to take her] in a UHaul and my mother and I drove from Boston to Springfield, IL. [Consequently, that is the only time either parent visited me in Boston while I lived there…see A Nanny Diary for an explanation] I moved into Clock Tower or New England apartments, something like that, across from Alexander’s Steakhouse, one of my bartending jobs. I mainly worked at Boon’s Saloon, a political/neighborhood bar full of its own drama but fun nonetheless. I went from living near Cheers to working our bar party for the show’s last episode. To make even more money, I did the books part time for Alexander’s, finally putting to use my accounting classes. It was easy to get up at 8am, walk across the street, and knock at the kitchen door. The hard part was getting over the marinade smell that early in the morning.

For almost two years (involving move #4 within the city) I worked on my master’s degree by day and on my martini at night. In preparation for my new lifestyle, I had spent a few weekends in Boston completing a degree in Mixology at The New England Bartending School. I received particularly high marks in the ‘Sours’ and mention my credentials when lesser bartenders tell me that an amaretto sour is the same as an amaretto stone sour. Considering my parents were heavy drinkers, this additional education went over well, especially when I made my mother a brandy Alexander or a grasshopper. Those are the drinks I served when I told them, four classes and a dissertation shy of completing my master’s that I wanted to move to New York [and live with the bartender friend] and pursue acting.