OUTLIE. OUTCHEAT. OUTSTEAL.

So yeah ... I got chosen for Diaryland Survivor 5with some extremely talented writers.

...And Genghis-Jon.

I guess the contest starts this Monday.

And for me, it'll probably end on Tuesday.

I'm looking forward to the challenges. It's been a long time since I wrote something based on a topic that someone else suggested.

And hey ... I'm up for an alliance, guys and gals! I'm all for ganging up on someone worthy of winning and kicking them out all in the spirit of bad sportsmanship!

Call me!

So yesterday was my last day of volunteering for the golf tournament which was shown on the Golf Channel, America's most boring cable channel.

The highlight of the day ... driving to the airport in an $85,000 Mercedes.

I couldn't tell much difference between this Mercedes and the $55,000 one I drove the day before.

Except when you hit the accelerator of this one ... your ass was in the next state before you could scream "Holy shit!"

Other than that, it was a day spent watching golfers tee off.

Honestly?

I'd rather get a lap dance from my mother than have to watch a series of semi-pro golfers tee off.

I deejayed a "Halloween Party" last night.

My God.

It was the freakin' pits. The absolute lowest rung that a deejay can possibly suffer.

When I got to this restaurant/bar, there were six people in the place.

I introduced myself to management, got over to the deejay "booth" (a table with my buddy's equipment on it set up in front of an obnoxiously large potted plant) and started playing music.

The six people got up and left before the first song was over.

Leaving me and the staff in the place.

The owners, a husband and wife team, wanted to hear the Electric Slide.

Great.

I put it on and they did the Slide together.

Then they told me there was too much bass in the speakers.

I fixed that.

Then they told me to turn it up louder.

I turned it up louder.

Then they wanted it softer.

I turned it down.

Then more bass.

I gave them more bass.

Then they wanted to hear Prince.

I put on "When Doves Cry".

No.

They wanted "Let's Go Crazy".

I put on "Let's Go Crazy".

There's too much bass in the song. Put "When Doves Cry" back on.

I put "When Doves Cry" back on and began contemplating the quickest and easiest way that I could kill myself.

Nobody else came out to the place for the rest of the night. Those six customers were it.

This place opened about two months ago in a building that sees new restaurants come and go every six months.

It's wayyyyy out in the boondocks, miles from any other form of civilization.

I was supposed to play from 9 p.m. until 1 a.m.

From 9:30 p.m. to 11 p.m. I literally played music to an empty room. The managers went to the office, the kitchen staff went to the bar in a different area of the building and I stood in the corner with a goddamned potted plant getting in my way every time I turned around.

It wasn't quite miserable.

But it wasn't anything to put on a resume.

Finally, at 11 p.m., the husband of the management team told me to pull the plug as it looked like nobody else would be coming out for the night.

No shit, Shirley Temple.

He offered me a drink on the house and I declined because I thought they'd want to hold on to that $2.25. It'd be the biggest profit they made all night.

I sat down at the bar with the managers, waiting for them to pay me my $150 cash that was agreed upon.

Finally, after ten minutes of small talk, the lady said "So what do we owe you?"

I said "From what I understand, $150."

She said "Oh no ... we agreed to $100."

Sonofabitch.

Seriously, I felt kinda guilty for taking any of their money.

However, they're the ones who called my buddy who called me to do it. My buddy told me $150 for four hours of work.

Nobody showed up. The only dancers I had were the managers and at one point a kitchen worker came out to dance to "Strokin'" the most obnoxious song I will ever hear in my life.

The restaurant hadn't even MADE $150 that evening. My payday not only ate up every penny of money they took in, but also some of Thursday night's pay.

But hey ... I didn't come to them and convince them they needed a deejay and to pay me this money.

I didn't feel like arguing. I'd take $100 and will broach the subject with my buddy who lined up the gig sometime today.

The management team has no idea what they're doing. Their idea of "advertising" is to print up flyers announcing that they're open and putting them on windshields in the more luxurious neighborhoods of the city where homes cost half a million dollars.

Those people do not take kindly to having propaganda placed on their windshields while their cars are in their driveways.

I explained to the managers that print advertising for a restaurant/bar is the best and most cost-effective form of advertisement they can get. I gave them the names of several publications in the area that are inexpensive and reach their demographic.

I figured if nothing else, they paid me $100 to give them some advice on how to run their business more successfully.

The husband told me that the first week they were open they had ZERO customers.

An entire week ... NOBODY showed up.

The next week they had 20 customers.

Now they're up to about 80 customers a week and they're thrilled with that.

I expect them to be closed by February at the latest.

Basically, from what I could tell, everything you can possibly do wrong in opening a restaurant, they're doing it.

Bad location. Bad advertising campaign. Stupid judgement calls as to what type of entertainment they should have.

I felt sorry for them.

I really did.

But not enough to give them $100 back.

Fools.