The Receptionist Unleashed aka work gloves please?

Remember when you were young and you would walk along a sidewalk and say that you couldn’t touch the cracks? Or in the fall you would say that the leaves were lava and you couldn’t touch the leaves? Essentially anything could be named lava and then you couldn’t touch it. The world was one big game of operation.

Well… I have taken that game and changed it a little. My first modification was to make it REAL instead of a game. Secondly, instead of fictitious lava I have non-fictitious chicken wire, nails, and exposed electrical connections.

You guessed it; I just had my first weekend as the Fight Gym handyman (job #3). As Chris put it, “James, it is just you and the boss fixing up the old fight gym… with swinging hammers and swinging dicks”. (Sorry Mom and sensitive relatives). I was going to be paid a man’s wage for a man’s days work. It didn’t turn out to be as romantic as anticipated.

In the end I tore my hands to pieces (I was not given work gloves until the middle of day two), cut up my legs pretty good, stepped on THREE nails, and electrocuted myself. This wasn’t some wussy American 110 Volt electrocution either. This was Auzzi rules electrocution. 240 Volts straight from the Manly power grid to James. I am pleased to report that I did not scream like a girl, but rather let out a load shout with plenty of base.
The best fun about it all was that when I finished work I got to go straight to Henry Africa’s (the bar) to work. One of my favorite tasks there happens to involve both the cutting and distribution of limes. When you are handling all of that acidic citrus and your hands are covered in cuts it provides you with a constant reminder of how much you suck at job #3.

The boss and I bantered, bickered, and bitched the whole time, and in the end bonded over the experience. We did a pretty good job, although my new reception desk we built is leaning pretty heavily in towards me. Other than the impending fall of that ridiculously heavy desk, we did a great job.

The receptionist job at the Fight Gym has rapidly become the greatest job in the world. Tom (the boss) called me one day to ask how things were going and the conversation went something like this:

Me: … yea everything went fine today.
Tom: James, have you been using the gym at all?
James: Not too much yet
Tom: Well I want you to start working out here
James: Okay… (Feeling uncomfortable about my self image after that comment)… The last few days I have taken some weights behind my desk, or a bike and I have worked out a little.
Tom: Yea, don’t worry about that. If you are not busy just work out anywhere in the gym

So now I am paid in cash every week to work out. I just box, or run, or lift a few hours a day M-F and on Friday Tom just asks “how much do I owe you.”

The leaves are lava, but everything else is straight cash!

I am now scheduled to fight in the next “Fight Night.” We just had one at the gym, but there should be another in 4 or 5 months. By that time I hope to be decent enough to do a little damage in the ring. I will fight under the name “The Receptionist” so that nobody expects anything from me. 3 rounds of The Receptionist unleashed, and I’ll be sure to get someone to videotape it.

Handily,
James

This is actually a candid picture. How cute? Left to right is Chris Morgan, James Calabrese, Phil Sukys, and Eric Yang (aka Master Yang aka DJ Yang aka Ying Yang aka Ricka aka Rickshaw)

Here are a few of the English kids we always hang out with. They are funny because they are different. Did you know that Tea Time is actually a time? That is literally a time in the day for them, like 4pm or so is Tea time. I thought it was just an expression. I laughed at the English kids for about 5 minutes straight when I learned this.

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