I work as a production technician for a TV station. Fuck you, I'm not telling you which one. It is my job to operate cameras, run teleprompter, load and display graphics, set up the studio for the news, and floor direct so that the news anchors know where they need to be and when to be there. It took a long road to get here. A road paved with ass rashes.
After graduating college, I was forced to wait tables for nearly two years before I finally locked down a decent job. Maybe it was because of the economy. Maybe I should have lived in a city with a stronger job market than Cincinnati. Maybe my job searching techniques were too haphazard and disorganized. Maybe I should have cut the number of racial slurs I used in job interviews to a more sensible number. Like 3.
Whatever the reason, all that matters is I have a decent job now, and there's nothing that any filthy boomerang chucker Australians can do about it. I absolutely love my job, but they never told me how ungodly difficult it would be. I thought I understood hard work when I was waiting tables 12 hours straight without a break. You see, restaurant managers are uniquely special little flowers on God's green earth who see things a little differently than you and I. We see labor laws as a code of rules handed down from the government that carry punitive consequences if disobeyed. Restaurant managers see them as very gentle suggestions.
I thought I knew what a hard day of work felt like when I'd come home with my feet pounding, my psychological state frayed to its last nerve by the Northern Kentucky White Trash All-Stars, and an unbearable stinging pain inside my ass. Walking nonstop for 12 hours and constantly coming in and out of a hundred degree kitchen will make sweat run down your asscrack, your body parts rubbing together will rub that salty concotion into all of your sensitive skin, you will quickly be met with unbearable pain with every step, and when you get home, you will not be able to walk comfortably for the next 48 hours, so don't get out of your chair unless it's absolutely necessary.
When work is so hard that you accept blisters on your inner asscheeks as just another part of life, you think you've seen it all, but it ain't got shit on being a production technician. Let me just walk you through a typical 8-hour Saturday night shift. Remember how sad you felt when you saw Precious? I'm about to make that shit look like Ghostbusters.
3:40 - Show up at work and check e-mail
3:50 - Get on Facebook. Andy thought Once was a good movie? ZOMG ME TOO!!! I am SO giving that status a like!
4:00 - The second half of The Goonies is on AMC? Sweet!
5:00 - Shit, nothing's on TV. Hey, I have an idea! Let's take a Nerf football, throw it at a wall, and see which way it bounces off. Footballs are oblong. You never know what those crazy bastards will do next.
5:30 - Gossip time!
5:45 - Check today's MLB scores
5:50 - Time to make our way to the studio for the 6 o'clock news. Now I'll shoot the shit about sports with the other production technicians until the show starts.
6:00 - Time for the news! Here is where I set up the shot for my camera and keep it in the same place for 8 minutes.
6:08 - My camera doesn't have any shots in this next block. Time to take a poop.
6:30 - The news finally comes to an end. I had to work for a whole half hour with time for only one bathroom break. Now it's time to debate where we're getting dinner.
7:00 - Go to Panera Bread. Ten bucks will get you a cup of soup, half a sandwich, and a drink. It's a really hearty meal if you happen to be a 90-pound girl or 8 years old.
7:45 - Nap time!
9:00 - Scattergories! Friendships will be tested when someone puts "Burma" for countries starting with B. One person will insist that it shouldn't count because it's called Myanmar now and demand that a point be taken away. I die a little inside.
9:45 - Look at the wall
10:15 - Look at another wall
10:30 - Power nap!
10:45 - Remark that we really need to get to the studio for the 11 o'clock show right now.
10:54 - Get to the studio and set things up
11:14 - My camera isn't being used for the rest of the show. It's been a long day. I'm going home early.
Anal wounds have nothing on this job. Do you have any idea how much it hurts your brain to come up with Scattergories answers for the letter K? Fucking nothing starts with K. I can't believe I have to do it again tomorrow. I want to play Apples to Apples but I probably won't get to. That's some bullshit.
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