On The Road Again
If you’re wondering what it’s like to be on the road (again) for work, let m tell you here and now that it’s not all cigars and expense accounts. I don’t smoke cigars and some expenses are entirely my own, which leads me to be rather cheap. Rather cheap can lead me down some pretty dark alleys. This trip is a fine example of that.
This particular project is long-term and the planning for same started in May. My expertise is in intellectual property and it made sense for me to be on-stie for an indeterminate period of time to first assess, then consult, then plan and pass on, hopefully, to others, to execute the result of all of the foregoing. It’s so so much that I have the most massive legal brain in existence, but instead that the firm I work for has a correspondent firm that they acquired a few years ago that, for some reason, has a great deal of faith in me and wanted me badly enough to cash in some political chips and get me to come to them. Could I have done whatever I’m about to do for these fine folks remotely? Probably. It’s all electronic anyway these days. I have no one to interview, there are no depositions. Pretty much all A to B stuff. In fact, someone with just about no experience right out of school could do what I’m about to do just as well, if not better, since I carry a ton of philosophical baggage. So, that’s the background. They asked for me – who am I to say no? I’m a ho – you want me, I come running, as long as the expenses are paid.
Of course, money is money, and expenses are subject to limits placed by the larger firm rather than the sattelite. Seems fair, right? Except for the fact that it means that the sky is most certainly not the limit. In my case, the sattelite firm is not a top earner, so, like the Mob, I am assuming here, the better the crew the better the benefits. This crew, while profitable in their own right, is only so-so compared to NY and LA and London and Munich. So, The Four Seasons becomes Olive Garden and Hiltons become, no, not even Springhill Suites but, you guessed it, Motel 6’s extended stay brand, Studio 6.
Oh, God: why? Because I have a per diem, that’s why. Meaning, in essence, that I have only a certain amount I can spend per day, and this – hovel – I wound up in is as much as is permissible without me having to go into pocket and fork over the diff. You who have faced similar circumstances know that play quite well. There are only so many dollars one can allot per day and after that, it’s on you. If the assignment is overseas, it’s easy, because your valuable time can’t be taken up with calculating Euros into Dollars into Pounds and Yen.
Sorry. I was momentarily distracted by a house guest – a single, solitary fly. Ah, visions of Jeff Goldblum. By the way, I saw a few minutes of Independence Day the other night whilst travelling, Did you know that it is awful? Okay,
Why did I wind up in a hovel, you ask? Well, it’s because the internet is full of bullsh*t, that’s why.
Let’s see . . . one of the dresser drawers had been dusted for fingerprints and the forensic carbon hadn’t been removed. That says to me that the housekeeping staff lacks a certain amount of attention to detail. The stove needs repair, but I left my tools in New Jersey. I have four plastic cups, each individually wrapped in plastic, If I use the plastic to cover my hands and feet, I may be alright. I wanted to get a take on the neighbourhood from D’Shay, a resident who was walking his Rottweiler out back earlier, but I think the dog didn’t take a cotton to me as is the vernacular ’round these here parts. There’s a waterfall in the bathroom that has less to do with intended effect and more to do with the fact that one maintenance person or a hundred units just can’t keep up with it all. I can’t be all negative, though. The is an Olive Garden, which is great, except that open carry is not allowed, a Jack (in the Box), two places with blacked out windows that seem kinda sketchy for some reason, two overweight hookers, a McDonald’s and what I’m guessing is a Condoms To Go. Is that a franchise? Because, if it is, that’s got to be the balls-iest marketing plan ever. The other good thing is that the liquor store is within walking, or stumbling, distance of this “hotel”.
The nearby Baymont Inn mocks this establishment with its bright lights and the lack of hookers monoplising the dark side of the parking lot.
I could brave the night rather than make up stories based on the view from my room. I would probably need a guide. Look over there – if one wanted to get a scope on the neighbourhood, that guy over there probably has the most comprehensive available analysis. It appears he has a banged-up 1992 Caddy with 24″ wagon-wheel rims parked in front of the pumps at the Phillips 666 while he argues about who-knows-what with who-knows-whom on on flip-phone burner. He is his own stereotype. I don’t know if me leaving the safety of this elevated concrete brutalist monstrosity is a good idea, but something tells me I should.
Somehow, though it irks me to say it, I may fit right in, if I live long enough.