The question: How did Tom know work sucks? What jobs did he have in the past? He’s a (pop) punk rocker who’s on a mission to prove the existence of aliens, and he gets paid to do that. That job description doesn’t suck. That’s the dream.
What does he really know about work sucking?
Doc review. The due diligence process. Writing a whole memo all afternoon and into the night, killing your self over it, only to have the partner send a one sentence email right before you send it to him, telling you he no longer needs it. That sucks.
Or working under the hot sun at a construction construction site all day getting nice and sweaty. That sucks.
Or when you’re a plumber fixing a bathroom at an office building and the sexy secretary asks you if you could lay some pipe just for her, if you know what I mean. No, sorry, that last one is the intro to a porno.
Which leads me to my next story. This is one for the ages about how I, Andy McFerren (the fake name I use when I wish to maintain anonymity), once had to listen to two people have sex while I was practicing my bass guitar.
Here’s the scene:
My band and I used to practice in a storage unit across the highway from UVU. Maybe some of you are familiar with it. A lot of bands practice there (or at least used to). I know Michael Barrow & the Tourists know it well because that’s how I met them.
My band had a show coming up. We only had two keys to the storage unit, so the five of us had to coordinate our busy schedules and decide when we’d come pick up our equipment for our show. Some of the guys would show up earlier, and Jake (our drummer) and I would show up a bit later in the afternoon. Even though Jake wouldn’t be able to show until like 4pm, I thought, no problem, I’ll go a little early and practice.
Now, I loved jamming. And I loved playing with the band. But goddamn I could not practice by myself to save my life. This is probably why I write about music and hardly play anymore. I got there sometime around 3pm and was bored within minutes, so I started scrolling through Instagram and trying to find other ways to pass the time until Jake showed up.
While sitting there, I heard a man and a woman come in the building, just around the corner from our unit. They were just chit chatting, some small talk, and then I heard them open their unit and close the unit door behind them. Their muffled chatter continued. A little weird, but okay. They went silent. Then, I started to hear something. If not for the fact that everything else was perfectly silent, I would not have heard it. It started soft and crescendoed until it was a very clear, unmistakeable female moan (or maybe it was male— to each their own). The kind of moan one only makes when making the sex. Not quite a "When Harry Met Sally in the restaurant fake orgasm" moan but a moan nonetheless. More of a “you’re in the living room watching the 2016 Republican debate with some friends (for its comedic content) and you hear soft moaning coming from your roommates room” kind of moan (also based on a true story). But it was clear what I was hearing. They were having sex.
I sat there, mostly terrified. I seriously did not know what to do. As you can imagine, I had never been in this situation before. So, I didn’t do anything. I tried to sit as perfectly still as possible and not make a sound. I was playing the quiet game against this couple and I was winning by a mile. I was so scared that these people would find out that I just listened to them having sex. Clearly these people were insane and had a secret, and I did not want to find out what they did to people who found out their secret. Here’s exactly what was going through my head:
1. Worst case scenario (I legit thought this):
This guy is having an affair and they’ve chosen this storage unit of all places because it’s 1) more economical (he just read Rich Dad Poor Dad in light of what will probably be an incredibly expensive divorce coming in his near future) and 2) it’s easier to explain on a credit card than a bunch of afternoon hotel check-ins in Lehi, Utah. And when they find me, they realize their secret is out and they can’t afford for it to get out so the guy has to make sure I don’t tell a soul and beats me to near death.
2. Best case scenario:
They ask me if I want to have a threesome.
3. Somewhere in between 1. and 2. is the scenario where Jake shows up while all of this is going down and chaos ensues. Like Community Darkest Timeline type chaos:
Enter Jake. He hears a womanly noise, but he’s unsure if it’s a noise of pleasure or pain. Fearing the worst, he goes to her aid. He opens their storage unit to find them, well, doing what they were doing. This enrages the man who, fully nude, begins to attack Jake with an extra golf club that he has in the storage unit. Me, hearing all of the commotion, comes out of our storage unit to see Jake being attacked. The woman is unsuccessfully trying to pry her lover off of Jake. I grab the only thing within reach, my bass, and assault the nude attacker. My first swing connects, but as I swing for a second time, I hit the light overhead which falls down, knocking me out and somehow starts a fire. The woman screams and runs away. The three of us remaining, nearly perish, each suffering severe burns.
However, Jake did not show up. Eventually they left. I sat there stunned. I did not utter a word or make a sound out of pure disbelief but also just in case they came back. Jake finally came, we packed up his drums, and we went and played our show.
A couple months go by and we were talking to our storage unit neighbor. He tells us this story about how some people around the corner from us got kicked out of their storage unit for making porn. A lightbulb goes off. It all makes sense now.
But I’m a little sad. The way I see it, this was a missed opportunity. I could’ve been a porn star. Then maybe work wouldn’t suck so much. Or maybe it still would.
So, come here often?