Hi all! I think I've bitten off a little more than I can chew. Not only is the primary "part time" job working me about 30 hours a week, but also I have the job cleaning my uncle's machine shop, and now a third part time job with Bossman since the fall sports season has kicked off. (pun intended) ...on top of going to school full time. I could complain about being on the brink of stark raving lunacy, but instead I choose to compare myself to a medical student in the midst of his residency working those horrific 36-hour shifts for a handful of peanuts. A legend in my own mind, I am...
No new photos to show you. I've been shooting project work almost exclusively, and I've been tapping the pool of girls I work with for models. The last few have been 17, and therefore I feel a wee bit icky about posting their portraits. Did I ever show you the antenna ornament I spied on a car that I parked next to earlier this summer?
Welcome to smalltown Ohio. It has a certain homey charm.
Shot a fund raising concert for a national charity at a decent local venue. I felt all big-as-you-please sporting my first Press Pass. But let me tell you that the ushers at that particular Pavilion which will remain nameless were a bunch of Nazis. It was a funk band. It was the guys who invented
the Motown sound. But God forbid the audience stray from their seats to go dance in an open area, though, or immediately the ushers swarmed the wayward people, tapping them on their shoulders and sending them back to their seats like a bunch of kindergarten teachers herding their little kids.
Then they kept pestering the other photographer during the show. They did a good job of leaving me alone during the performance. But the kicker was afterward, when the band did a meet-and-greet to shake hands and sign autographs.
Ok, let's get this much straight: The Charity threw this event. They booked the band. Their organization's name was in the title of the event. And I was their official photographer.
So I kneel down a few feet away from the table where the band members were signing autographs and started snapping pictures. I wasn't getting in anybody's way. I wasn't pestering the band or trying to shmooze with them. I was doing my job as a documentarian, keeping my distance. But some power-tripping snide little Nazi women came over and tugged on my shoulder, looking down at my PRESS PASS. (Helllloooo?)
Her: Press pass? Who are you with? You with the [charity]?
Her: They didn't tell me anything about shooting after the performance, so are you about done, honey?
Me: Oh, uhh... [standing up and walking away]
Her: Umm. Yeah.
I was fucking LIVID
over how rudely she behaved. I walked back to the main booth to pack up my stuff. The president of the charity suggested I take photos of the meet-and-greet upon which I, doing everything to maintain professional demeanor and not appear ready to slap somebody, relayed what was said to me. He wasn't happy with them.
A few moments later I was allowed back to take photos, while that usher just stood there glowering
at me. Andy feels triumphant. I shot all that I needed and walked away without a fuss.