‹ Prequel: Mixed
Matt Berry
Matt Berry
Matt Berry
Third day on the job. I can do this. It won’t be hard. Sell some shirts, talk to some fans. I’ve done it for two days now. Easy. I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I have got to calm these nerves. Knowing me, my hands will get so sweaty that I’ll get butterfingers and drop a box of merch into a puddle, effectively ruining the last medium sized most popular design. I groan. I need to stop thinking like that. If I think negatively, it will become a reality. If it becomes a reality, I’ll be sent back home in disgrace.
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
I can’t go back home. That is not an option. This is my only way out of my small town. I didn’t have the grades or the money to go to college. I don’t have the patience to do childcare. I’m allergic to most beef so I can’t work at the only fast food place we have. Doing merch is my only hope. If I lose this job....my life is over. I want to be more than a simple factory worker. I need to be more than a factory worker.
In an attempt to put my mind at ease, I look for my mentor. I know he’s around here somewhere. The problem is finding him. It shouldn’t be this hard. He does the same job I do. He’s my boss actually. So if I am standing by the merch, waiting to unload it...he should be here telling me what to unload. Right? Wrong. Not once has he told me what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve actually only met him once. The day I was hired. I saw him the first day of tour, loading his stuff onto the bus, but after that it was like he’s a ghost.
Seeing the bodyguard and head of security, I ask if he knows where my boss is. No luck. He tries to give me a definitive answer, but it is merely a jumbled mess of non-directions. I stop him before he confuses himself, apologizing for interrupting his work. I am ready to give up. If the head of security doesn’t know where he is, who will? I turn to head back to the trailer. His brother! His brother will surely know. His brother is easy to find. He’s setting up the drum set. Ya know....since he’s the drum tech....that’s what he does. Surprise: he actually DOES his job. Unlike his disappearing sibling.
I run to the stage. The band is doing sound check right now. He usually listens to see what problems arise with the drums. He’s dedicated to his work, that’s for sure. Skidding to a stop beside him, I huff out my question. He stares back at me blankly before shrugging. Shrugging. A freakin shrug?! This is his BROTHER we’re talking about here and all he can do is shrug?! I have to work to stop myself from growling. I want to slaughter someone. Why does no one know where this man is? What could he possibly be doing that takes him off the radar of everyone?!
One last glare at the world and I stomp back to the merch trailer. Upon my arrival, I see his clipboard. When was he here?! I smack myself. Actually smack myself. This is getting ridiculous. After telling myself I’m an idiot for smacking myself that hard, I pick up the clipboard. There’s a note written at the top of the inventory telling me what and how much to set out. A note. Why couldn’t he tell me this in person? I am new to this job and I can’t afford to screw up.
Steady hands, just take the wheel...
Inhale. Exhale. Go. I study the inventory carefully before starting to unload the trailer. I double check what I am unloading as I set each box behind the merch table. This isn’t too hard. It doesn’t take long before I get hang of it. I even start singing and dancing as I set up the displays and organize the boxes along the wall. Easy. I have it all set up in under an hour. Stepping back, I look at my handiwork. Not bad I say. Not bad. Considering the past two days someone from one of the supporting band’s merch team came and helped me and this time I did it by myself. I can handle this. I know I can.
Deciding I am entitled to a small reward, I relax in one of the folding metal chairs and put my feet up on the table. My small reward is just that: small. As soon as I’m comfort able, my feet are knocked off the table. I jump, looking up at the person who did it. The lead singer of the band. I gulp. What could I have done to draw his attention? I make sure to stay out of the band’s way. I am their peon. The seen-and-not-heard type. I stand on shaky legs. The other merch people are starting to watch.
And every glance is killing me
"I need to talk to you." His deep voice instantly commands all of my attention. Talk to me about what?
"Yes s-s-s-" I stutter over the word, never actually getting it out. He rolls his eyes and sighs in irritation. I shut my mouth.
"This little arrangement isn’t working out. We’re going to have to let you go."
Time to make one last appeal... for the life I lead
My eyes widen. "What? It’s only been three days including today. I promise that whatever I did, I’ll do better. I’ll work harder. Anything, just plea-"
"You’ve had three days to prove you could do this job and you haven’t. I come out here to check on you and you’re sitting around twiddling your thumbs. You do less work than Matt Berry. I mean, he set this all up and unloaded the truck by himself. You were brought on to make his job easier. Not make it harder."
Stop and stare
My mind comes to an utter halt. I do less work than Matt Berry? I stare up at this man. Surely he is not talking about the Matt Berry I think he’s talking about. Matt Berry. As in Matt Berry my boss. The one I’ve only seen twice in the course of three days. The one who is supposed to be helping me learn the ropes but has been basically nonexistent. Certainly we are not thinking of the same Matt Berry. For if we are, he is sorely mistaken. I have done more work in three days than I’ve seen my boss do at all. Matt Berry actually doing work is an urban legend. Of that I am convinced. I’ve asked the other merch teams and they never saw him either. Random people would work the booth or they would cover for him. Big Foot being real is more believable than Matt Berry working. Aliens are more plausible!
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. There are no words for this heinous insult I have just been delivered. My mind refuses to formulate a retort and I am left speechless.
Stop and stare
I stare into the singer’s face. That’s all I can do at this point. Stare. I feel as though my heart is stopping as well. What did I do to deserve this? I dared to dream myself a life above what I was born with. That was my mistake.
You start to wonder why you're here not there
Knowing there’s nothing I can say to remedy this situation, I turn and head for the bus. I’m going home. The one place I wanted to escape from, and I’m being sent back. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I was meant to be a factory worker. Maybe I’m meant to live and die in that town. Maybe it’s where I belong. I obviously don’t belong with these people. Blinded by preference with rose-colored glasses. This isn’t my world and I’m a fool for thinking it could be.
But I've become what I can't be
Oh, do you see what I see...
So now I return home. A disgrace in more ways than one. I’ve been told that I’m lazier than the laziest person I know. No matter what I do, no matter how much I achieve, it will never wipe this from my mind. I’ve hit rock bottom and there is no working my way out of this hole. How can I? Those words are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, jading everything I do.
You do less work than Matt Berry.
Third day on the job. I can do this. It won’t be hard. Sell some shirts, talk to some fans. I’ve done it for two days now. Easy. I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I have got to calm these nerves. Knowing me, my hands will get so sweaty that I’ll get butterfingers and drop a box of merch into a puddle, effectively ruining the last medium sized most popular design. I groan. I need to stop thinking like that. If I think negatively, it will become a reality. If it becomes a reality, I’ll be sent back home in disgrace.
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
I can’t go back home. That is not an option. This is my only way out of my small town. I didn’t have the grades or the money to go to college. I don’t have the patience to do childcare. I’m allergic to most beef so I can’t work at the only fast food place we have. Doing merch is my only hope. If I lose this job....my life is over. I want to be more than a simple factory worker. I need to be more than a factory worker.
In an attempt to put my mind at ease, I look for my mentor. I know he’s around here somewhere. The problem is finding him. It shouldn’t be this hard. He does the same job I do. He’s my boss actually. So if I am standing by the merch, waiting to unload it...he should be here telling me what to unload. Right? Wrong. Not once has he told me what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve actually only met him once. The day I was hired. I saw him the first day of tour, loading his stuff onto the bus, but after that it was like he’s a ghost.
Seeing the bodyguard and head of security, I ask if he knows where my boss is. No luck. He tries to give me a definitive answer, but it is merely a jumbled mess of non-directions. I stop him before he confuses himself, apologizing for interrupting his work. I am ready to give up. If the head of security doesn’t know where he is, who will? I turn to head back to the trailer. His brother! His brother will surely know. His brother is easy to find. He’s setting up the drum set. Ya know....since he’s the drum tech....that’s what he does. Surprise: he actually DOES his job. Unlike his disappearing sibling.
I run to the stage. The band is doing sound check right now. He usually listens to see what problems arise with the drums. He’s dedicated to his work, that’s for sure. Skidding to a stop beside him, I huff out my question. He stares back at me blankly before shrugging. Shrugging. A freakin shrug?! This is his BROTHER we’re talking about here and all he can do is shrug?! I have to work to stop myself from growling. I want to slaughter someone. Why does no one know where this man is? What could he possibly be doing that takes him off the radar of everyone?!
One last glare at the world and I stomp back to the merch trailer. Upon my arrival, I see his clipboard. When was he here?! I smack myself. Actually smack myself. This is getting ridiculous. After telling myself I’m an idiot for smacking myself that hard, I pick up the clipboard. There’s a note written at the top of the inventory telling me what and how much to set out. A note. Why couldn’t he tell me this in person? I am new to this job and I can’t afford to screw up.
Steady hands, just take the wheel...
Inhale. Exhale. Go. I study the inventory carefully before starting to unload the trailer. I double check what I am unloading as I set each box behind the merch table. This isn’t too hard. It doesn’t take long before I get hang of it. I even start singing and dancing as I set up the displays and organize the boxes along the wall. Easy. I have it all set up in under an hour. Stepping back, I look at my handiwork. Not bad I say. Not bad. Considering the past two days someone from one of the supporting band’s merch team came and helped me and this time I did it by myself. I can handle this. I know I can.
Deciding I am entitled to a small reward, I relax in one of the folding metal chairs and put my feet up on the table. My small reward is just that: small. As soon as I’m comfort able, my feet are knocked off the table. I jump, looking up at the person who did it. The lead singer of the band. I gulp. What could I have done to draw his attention? I make sure to stay out of the band’s way. I am their peon. The seen-and-not-heard type. I stand on shaky legs. The other merch people are starting to watch.
And every glance is killing me
"I need to talk to you." His deep voice instantly commands all of my attention. Talk to me about what?
"Yes s-s-s-" I stutter over the word, never actually getting it out. He rolls his eyes and sighs in irritation. I shut my mouth.
"This little arrangement isn’t working out. We’re going to have to let you go."
Time to make one last appeal... for the life I lead
My eyes widen. "What? It’s only been three days including today. I promise that whatever I did, I’ll do better. I’ll work harder. Anything, just plea-"
"You’ve had three days to prove you could do this job and you haven’t. I come out here to check on you and you’re sitting around twiddling your thumbs. You do less work than Matt Berry. I mean, he set this all up and unloaded the truck by himself. You were brought on to make his job easier. Not make it harder."
Stop and stare
My mind comes to an utter halt. I do less work than Matt Berry? I stare up at this man. Surely he is not talking about the Matt Berry I think he’s talking about. Matt Berry. As in Matt Berry my boss. The one I’ve only seen twice in the course of three days. The one who is supposed to be helping me learn the ropes but has been basically nonexistent. Certainly we are not thinking of the same Matt Berry. For if we are, he is sorely mistaken. I have done more work in three days than I’ve seen my boss do at all. Matt Berry actually doing work is an urban legend. Of that I am convinced. I’ve asked the other merch teams and they never saw him either. Random people would work the booth or they would cover for him. Big Foot being real is more believable than Matt Berry working. Aliens are more plausible!
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out. There are no words for this heinous insult I have just been delivered. My mind refuses to formulate a retort and I am left speechless.
Stop and stare
I stare into the singer’s face. That’s all I can do at this point. Stare. I feel as though my heart is stopping as well. What did I do to deserve this? I dared to dream myself a life above what I was born with. That was my mistake.
You start to wonder why you're here not there
Knowing there’s nothing I can say to remedy this situation, I turn and head for the bus. I’m going home. The one place I wanted to escape from, and I’m being sent back. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I was meant to be a factory worker. Maybe I’m meant to live and die in that town. Maybe it’s where I belong. I obviously don’t belong with these people. Blinded by preference with rose-colored glasses. This isn’t my world and I’m a fool for thinking it could be.
But I've become what I can't be
Oh, do you see what I see...
So now I return home. A disgrace in more ways than one. I’ve been told that I’m lazier than the laziest person I know. No matter what I do, no matter how much I achieve, it will never wipe this from my mind. I’ve hit rock bottom and there is no working my way out of this hole. How can I? Those words are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, jading everything I do.
You do less work than Matt Berry.