hater ⇔ c.h.

six; better than i know myself

I was enjoying my extended weekend greatly, seeing as my boss had decided to give me Friday off after he had already done so Thursday. Time like this was never wasted, considering this is the first occurrence since... well, I started working there. Although, all these days off made me more and more wary about the concerts ahead.

First was Boys Like Girls, in which I am ridiculously excited to attend. Second was the unsaid band. Yes, band. I came to that conclusion at Steven's use of the word celebrities.

Sure, I could've asked who they were when I was first given the job, or looked at the list of events on my way out of work the other day, but something tells me these people are going to be ba-no, horrible.

You see, in the wonders of working at a stadium, there are four things you could be doing for a particular event.

The least enjoyable is the running around, collecting things that are needed and obeying every word of the people actually doing something productive. But that's only if you're seriously incapable of doing things. The next is sitting backstage, managing the cameras, dealing with issues that take place during the said event and making sure security is tight. This one isn't that bad, though. Most of the time you just sit back and enjoy whatever is going on. The third and personal favorite of mine, is working with the lighting, sound systems, stage setups and sometimes sound check. You get to see performers in their natural habitat. It's kind of cool, if you don't hate them. That's what I did with Marisa Marie, except a lot of my coworkers were on vacation last week, so I had to spend much more time with her than planned. The fourth and final-also the one I am currently dreading-is working personally with the artists. Even more personal than Ms. Marisa Marie. You greet them almost every time they walk through a door, show them around the stadium, discuss not only lighting and setup, but what actually goes on during the concert. Like when they are going to speak or the order of songs and such. You accompany them outside of the stadium as well, getting coffee, going to lunch, making sure they don't get mobbed. Sound check is all up to you, along with making sure they don't break anything backstage. And during their hours off, you lounge in their dressing room. The purpose of this job is to basically spend every single second at their side. It's a lot to take in and a lot to accomplish, but it can also either be the time of your life, or the worst thing that's ever happened to you. At least, that's what I hear from people who've actually done it. I'm usually stuck with the third option, but none the less, it's still my favorite.

Tori and I walked into Starbucks. Subconsciously, I reacted by making a face to no one in particular and cringing beyond belief. This coffee sucks. Not that I will ever actually do anything about it. I don't think I've ever even mentioned the fact that I hate this coffee, I'm not much of a complainer. I guess I'll simply have to deal with it.

"What are you having?" Tori asked quietly, digging through her wallet but still managing to keep her eyes on the many screens with different beverages displayed.

My usual order sucks, so let's see what the queen of coffee is having.

"Uh... whatever you get."

She nodded carelessly at my response and stepped towards the barista, motioning to the both of us, "We'll both have a vanilla bean frappé."

Usually, I stick with plain old coffee. No milk, cream or sugar. Black coffee. So, in my mind, whatever the hell he had said didn't sound too appealing.

I handed Tori a five dollar bill, but she pushed it away, which resulted in myself slipping it into her purse.

I was handed the cold drink, curling my tanned fingers around the plastic cup. My facial expression must've given something away because Tori laughed and pulled me back out the door.