6 Weeks ago I was the cockiest I have ever been in my life. I had job security and a future. I was tackling obstacles that had set me back for years in a blink of an eye. I was growing in leaps and bounds and becoming more familiar with who I was through my ambitions. 6 weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought I feel the way I do now, humbled. I have always been the best when it comes to hiding my emotions and feelings, but it seems like I am about to burst, because I can’t just hold back the tears anymore. It started with a call. I received an inquiry on my resume that was posted on the internet, on Monster or Hot Jobs or something. The opportunity was perfect because at the time I was inches from quitting my day job and taking a pay cut to be happier. I work for a corporation and I have learned the truth about the corporate world. That truth is that it is very competitive. My boss’s boss, who in essence was my overseer was the most competitive person I had ever worked with or for. He wanted to win in everything. I think his perfectionist wishes lie somewhere in the fact that he was a homosexual. I say that not to take cheap shots, but because he would literally have us role play meetings before we met his boss to be sure he spoon fed us exactly what to say. To me, this was nothing new. As he stated when he arrived, he was a micro manager. My philosophy on management was more autonomous, but because I respected the pecking order, I followed suit and waited for my turn to succeed. But somewhere along the way, my boss’s boss got a little too personal with the management. He tried to manage things that had no affect on the business and often got the employees I supervised upset or confused. When I stressed the difficulty of the workload along with my regular duties of being a “counselor” to others, no mentoring was provided. Instead I was asked to suck it up, and I did. When I didn’t agree with the decision’s my boss’s boss had made and let him know, my money was then impacted as I was stripped from my Bonus. So the next week, i interviewed to become a insurance broker. I saw it as a lucrative opportunity and a way to become somewhat of my own company. After the interview, I walked out with every pamphlet available for the place, assuming I was hired and a junior agent, pending background check. Because I work for a corporation, I assumed clean background because I had already been through the background thing with the current gig. But I was rejected. At first, the potential employer said my social was not a real one. When I asked them to verify the sources, the input came back stating that I did have the proper social, but would still be denied based upon other intangibles. I was upset for two reasons, one I paid 63.50 for the background check. I have never paid for a background check for a job, but for this one, to get out of my regular gig and working for my fag bosses, it was worth it. Secondly, and more importantly, I’d started living the dream to early. I assumed I was in and started to plan my details for agency launch way to prematurely. I was extremely salty, but I hadn’t told anyone about the opportunity so it was easier to try to move on. But I couldn’t buckle down the ambition. The dreams never faded they just changed.
One day while sitting in a neighbors house, smoking a good one, a familiar stranger appeared. Even my neighbor, our mutual friend was surprised because she admits she rarely sees him. So it was extremely ironic that he was there. 7 or 8 blunts later, we finally realize why we look familiar to the other. We went to same university in Tahlequah, OK. Somehow the conversation led to us planning an after party for a concert that was coming in to town. That fateful meeting was 5 weeks ago. I couldn’t get away from my ideas of making it big, so I was all for doing the after party. I made one stipulation and that was that it would have to be a charity benefit. Everyone agreed. We spent the next three weeks going over details and preparing for the night of the concert. Back at work, I almost quit my job because my boss’s boss, told me to go home early on memorial day, leaving so called easy money on the table that I needed. I was pissed, but again it energized my ambitions to do away with the 9-5 corporate world asap. I worked twice as hard trying to find connects and networking to find the right charity. When I found the charity that I wanted to get involved with it, it motivated even more to help bring together the party for a good cause.
3 weeks before the event I was pretty confident that I had a good location, a good time, and a good cause, so I had no problem promoting the event to everyone I knew and even those I didn’t. I decided to undergo oral surgery to correct my wisdom teeth. For years dentists said I had enough room for them to grow in, but after a year of headaches and being diagnosed with migraines, my physician said that the headaches were cause by nerve damage. My wisdom teeth had grown in so far and so crooked that it actually fractured my jawbone. At night, I would grind my teeth and the next morning I rose with headaches. It made so much sense when my doctor explained it that I was pissed that she hadn’t thought to do those tests previously. So I set up and appointment to have the Wisdoms pulled and start the healing process of my jawbone. The surgery required a bone graft from the front of my mouth to fix the damage done by my wisdom teeth to prevent further nerve damage. To get a fair amount of bone, my front tooth was removed and the bone was taken from beneath the gumline there. The recovery process was to be two weeks if I would have my jaw wired, but because I was promoting the charity to everyone I met and because I work in a communications industry, wiring my jaw wasn’t an option. Instead I have two screws anchored in my jaw and a steel plate under my gum to prevent the nerve damage from reoccurring. The doctor warned that the second option of the permanent mechanical mandible was about the same in cost, but less tried and true because it was dependent on two many factors because it is essence a mechanical mandible. I chose option two because I didn’t want to miss a beat with the ambition for the event that I had. I had begun printing fliers and invested small amounts of money when the shoe dropped.
2 weeks before the event, I find that the club owner I am working with, is not a club owner at all, but simply a club promoter such as myself. Because he has been promoting for the club, he had done the clubs website and left his phone number for business contact. I was walking downtown Dallas, canvasing the city with fliers when the GM of the club called me and asked who I was and what the hell was a Kid Cudi after party. I felt a bit out of the loop and lost at that point, but was upset more because i had already paraded the party and had made the commitments to the charity. After meeting with the GM, who made me wait until the owner and the marketing manager arrived, I was able to beg and state my case for the event to continue even though they had no idea about the event. So with less than 2 weeks before the scheduled event, things fell apart, and I had to begin piecing them together by myself. My partner, the friend of a mutual friend, said he knew nothing of the situation at all and was shocked to find out himself, but I didn’t believe him or anybody whose name wasn’t Ryan. I decided to reach out and get some help from other friends and people who could take an interest in the event. To no avail, no one was interested in partnering up for charity. I chased down and bribed the organizers of Kixpo to at least allow me to market at their events and hoped that the connections would help bring a crowd into the venue (after all we were working on behalf of the same charity). I had an agreement with a local rap label to open the nights activities so that maybe they can help bring a crowd as well. Funds were low. The artists I had solicited for the event more than 4 weeks before said they would do it, but never agreed or signed any paperwork making it official. They were on tour so I assumed they were just a bit busy. The DJ was imported from the tour as well, and he had the event highlighted on his MySpace so everything seemed copacetic. I wasn’t a fool though. I knew any agreement not on paper was no agreement at all, so I tried my best to hustle local talent to support the event in case the touring artists didn’t make their end of the trip or agreement happen. But even locally for a local charity, it seemed almost impossible to garner support. It was probably because I was trying to convince people to support me via phone with a swollen face that made me look like my head was full of water and made me sound like my head was under water.
But I couldn’t stop. It was one week before the event and I really wanted to do my best to make something out of nothing. Why? I really did want to do something major for the charity. I was tired of being neutral on a moving train. So I did all I could possible do to raise money and gain allies for my event. I tried to hire modeling companies, but none were being fair with the cost or the selection. I tried to partner with the guys at Kixpo, but they were too committed to their own project. Even when I donated two tickets to a giveaway during their event they didn’t properly give any credit or reference to my event the following week. I stayed respectful only because it was for charity and I didn’t want to bring any bad Karma to my event, but I really wanted to put a nail through each and every one of their fat Mexican foreheads. I’ve got a feeling that I might still do that one day if I don’t forgive them soon. I even tried to solicit the help of the fake club promoter and friend of a friend who said he didn’t know the club promoter was fake. I broke a vow I made with God to never touch drugs again, cooking crack up in the kitchen so the friend of a friend could get money to help promote this event better. I wasted $300 on fliers that were probably not worth the money or time spent passing them around on foot. But every night I when I looked at the big picture and what we could accomplish for the orphans I bottle my negative emotions in hopes that we would somehow get the push we needed. If we build it, then it will come.
3 days before the event, and days after Kixpo failed to garner any more buzz, I get a call from TJ Chapman, B.o.B’s representation, asking if we had the deposit for his appearance. It was the weirdest thing, and actually the time I had to bite my tongue the most, because I hadn’t heard from TJ in at least 3 weeks. Somehow he says he never got my 16 contract submissions and 21 emails about the appearance, but still had my number to call for money. Out of respect and because we still needed to ink someone, I asked for a few days to finalize it from my end. I knew the money I had previously earmarked was a lot smaller, but still could’ve made the deposit. I hadn’t heard anything from Asher Roth’s people and had been hearing rumors that other clubs were competing for their fan base that evening, so I was reluctant to give B.o.B money if all he was going to do was a two minute walk through. I asked TJ if they could somehow orchestrate a shout out to the charity during the show. I knew that would give me the push I needed since it was entirely to late to promote B.o.B’s appearance properly. He declined. All signs elsewise pointed to scam so I decided I was better off leaning on my local artist and whatever help DJ Sean G of Pac Div could provide in swaying the crowd to come through our event. DJ Sean G was booked by my friend Bryan aka @adroit, who is a good fan, but has zero to no business tenacity. When money was low and we needed Sean G to do a favor and shout the party, Bryan allowed Sean to negotiate when there shouldn’t have been any negotiation. Hours before our event, we were still going back and forth about who should pay for Like of Pac Divs haircut. I tried my best to focus on the promotions of the event, but there were many times when I wanted to grab the phone and tell DJ Sean G to take his white ass somewhere with the bullshit. I never thought he was a $500 a night DJ to begin with. He is a bedroom DJ at best. But I continued to play nice guy because I needed whatever I could get at that point and it wasn’t my money being spent on the DJ. Just days before the event we were still considering if we should double the budget, lock in Pacific Division, B.o.B, and DJ Sean G in hopes of competing with Suite who had Don Cannon and Asher Roth inked by then. But since I was truly the only one taking any risks, I decided to stop where we were at. In retrospect I wonder if I should’ve pushed for the artists or pushed the people working with me out at that point.
2 days before the concert, while at work at my day job, I get a text from my cousin who is visiting his grandmother in Louisiana. Just the night before I ask him not to call me as often as he does, because I stay busy and don’t have a lot of extra time for 2 minute conversations about nothing 20 times a day. So when he sends a text asking if I heard what happened, I assumed it was about nothing. After some back and forth he tells me that my nephew was killed. I immediately step into a private area and call my brother to clarify what exactly has and is happening back home in Chicago. He explains that my nephew Jeremiah, RIP, who I have never held, died from head trauma the previous night at the hospital, the result of senseless violence. My sister is going back and forth from police station to social service office and hasn’t had a chance to even cry yet. I can hear the anger in her voice as she talks about what happened. Maybe its a side effect of being the oldest or being a Cancer, but I immediately start feeling her emotion, wondering what I could have done to stop this from happening. I sat still in one spot the entire night blaming myself for not being in Chicago or showing my family the better way I was trying to build for them. I felt selfish for not coming back and I hate myself for never being able to hold Jeremiah in my arms. I really wanted to give up on everything, but with only a day before the event, I had stepped it up too much to bail out. The fliers were made. The local artist was committed to the event and I still wanted to make a big impact for the sake of the orphans. I took 3 or 4 loritab pills and drunk a 32 oz. can of Miller lite. By the time I woke up the next afternoon, I had pretty much twittered each artists on tour begging for their appearance. I hoped that somehow the thing could survive without me, because I didn’t have the spirit in me to waive and say high and shake hands with people. I had no help promoting and the calvary that I called in couldn’t make anything happen at the last minute. Unfortunately the team I had was weak from the beginning and I didn’t cut them early like I should have.
The night of the event, as we look around the city for a barber willing to cut Like’s hair for free entry into the show (which is impossible in Dallas, because no barber here knows a good connect when he sees one, or because no barber here is willing to cut an unknown rappers hair for free), the doubts that I have are nothing compared to the grief I hold in my heart. Whatever could go wrong almost did go wrong. I spent all the cash I had on hand on the club rental but didn’t move money from my savings into my checking account on time, so I left the sound check on empty, scouring for a Wal-Mart so I could use a gift card for gas. I barely made it. Instead of going inside the House of Blues, as I’d planned to do for weeks before the show, I was stuck in traffic running money on a deal that should have been done by 3 pm tops. After all it was show night, and not still go out and try to promote night. DJ Sean G tries to eek more dough from the event, saying that if we have $750.00 then the Pac Div will host it. For $300.00 they will shout us out at the concert. I know this would have solidified the night but without being in the venue there was no guarantee on the shout out and the hosting was offered at such a late and unofficial time that TJ’s request three days before seemed extremely timely. I declined. I would have rather kept it the event in house and for the family that give in to the whims of artists who didn’t deserve the push we were offering. My brain was stuck on other things and my mind was on murder.
By the time Bryan and I caught up with DJ Sean G, I had went from being the host of the party to going right back to the HOB lot promoting flyers, hoping for our HOB push. But there was no push to be given. The crowd from the House of Blues was pretty deflated from the show and most weren’t of age to enter the club. DJ Sean G rode with us from the venue to the nightclub. Bryan proceeded to get his groupie on. As he asked Sean question and question about SXSW where they previously met, I began to tune out. No matter what Bryan said, I knew he wouldn’t tell or make Sean hit up Pacific Division like he said he would. In fact because we didn’t give up 300.00 and because TJ didn’t get his deposit, I knew the exact opposite was more than likely. Bishop, the friend of a friend, magically appeared in place and eager to help. He volunteered to work the door. Ironic that he would choose to handle the money when he couldn’t even commit to throwing in on the fliers. The club smelled of mildew from newly shampooed but not dried rugs. The bartenders were ugly and the bouncers were annoying. The only cool thing was the valet driver taking my shit and not wrecking it. For the people who made it out that evening, it was a fun night. They danced and some even brought actual shoes for the shoe drive. As they left they all thanked us for the time and thought that we should do it again soon. I couldn’t wait for everyone to go so I could prepare for the next day and the days after that leading to the funeral. My mouth and face were in extreme pain because I hadn’t taken a pill since I left work early two days before. My pockets would be hurting at nights end from the major L I took on the event. (I just found out nobody uses myspace much anymore and I strictly promoted there and in the streets with fliers). And my heart hurts the most, because I still haven’t quite figured out why my nephew was murdered and how can I make sure he doesn’t die in vain. Long after the guys on tour fall off, and years after my face heals, I will still feel stupidly responsible for my nephews death. By the time I make my money back and double it, the shoes that were donated will still be on the heels of an orphans all across the world.
So how do I feel about the night? The work we put it delivered the results we got. I took one hell of a loss, but the people who I value the most were impressed that I was able to continue on and make the night special for charity. Plus if it was about the money, I’d cash in this $4000 check that I have hanging on the wall. Would I do it again? I talked to Mike, the GM, immediately after, and based on my testicular fortitude I will probably start doing weekly events there before the end of the year. For now I just want to lay here and be empty. I got nothing left to give my family and if I don’t rejuvenate myself and find a way to get past my anger I am going to do something against every positive emotion I had for the last 6 weeks. I hate when I am humbled this way. If I am to continue down this ambitious track I am on, I need to relieve some of these non ambitious people around me from their notions that this is La Costa Nostra then delegate certain aspects to a outsources. The next event is a food drive at the end of August. The weekly is coming. You can’t be neutral on a moving train, and you only get one revolution to make it happen. Know what you want and when you want it, then fight for it.
Peace.
What He/ She Said