From job history to job hunting
Hey everybody. I hate to say it, but I think it may be time for me to find a job. Like, for real. This pandemic has fucked up so much, and not doing shows has put an end to my life security. Yes, I said life — not just financial.
Doing shows is like therapy for me. It’s like I have a battery inside me that can only be charged by a live audience. I have continued to do my Freakshow online (Mondays at 8 p.m.), and it really is fun. But there is nothing like a live crowd that you can feed off of and react to.
Plus, the camaraderie between all of the girls working in a show is something I miss more than I thought possible. There is a sisterhood between drag performers that is uniquely strong. My fellow castmates in the Rose Room and at J.R.’s know me better than any member of my blood family does.
A job though … . What the hell am I qualified to do at this point? I have done drag as my main job for almost 30 years now. Sure I have had other jobs in the past, but what could this jaded and bitchy man-child do now that doing drag is off the table?
I need ideas.
I’ve worked since I was 14 years old. One week before my 15th birthday, I got a job at a Dairy Queen that was owned by a friend of my mother’s, way the fuck out in Richardson. We lived in Balch Springs, and my PawPaw would drive me to work every day then pick me up.
I lied and said I was 16. The owner, I think, liked my mom so he didn’t pry. But there was no way I looked 16. The customers were constantly asking me how old I was: “I’m 16; now mind your business.”
I actually kind of liked being the Dairy Queen. I killed it running the drive-thru, even though I got called “ma’am” a thousand times a day. By the time I was 16, I was shift leader — or whatever it was called then.
Then I worked for a very short-lived dollar theater in Balch Springs. My best friend Adam and I would literally get off the bus from school and go open the movie theater. We took turns being ticket seller, working concessions and running the projector. The owner stopped by once a week and picked up the money to take to the bank.
It really was a shitty little theater, and we usually only got movies after they went to video. On the busiest nights, we might have had 35 to 40 people between the two movie screens we ran. Needless to say, that poor place did not last long. But it was fun while it lasted.
When it closed, the Boss Hogg-looking owner didn’t have enough money to pay us our last paycheck. He told us to take whatever we wanted as payment. Adam took a couple of giant speakers, and I got my first CD player. (Back then CD players were crazy expensive.) Random fact: The first CD I ever bought was the Batman soundtrack by Prince.
Then I was a butcher. No, seriously: I worked at Winn Dixie as the night butcher.
That sounds so much cooler than it was; it was so gross. Of course, I only applied for the job because there was a guy that worked there that I liked. I did everything I could to get that guy to notice me. I would walk past that stupid swinging door with the little round window so much that I wore a trail of tears onto the floor.
When I would finally find what aisle he was restocking on, I would find a reason to walk up and down that aisle. I’d say shit like, “Yup, looks like we need a can of shoestring potatoes in a can for dinner tonight.” Or “Wow! That is a great price on Comet cleaner! I better get two!”
And, nothing! I don’t remember his name, but I do remember his fine-ass mullet that was spiked on top and permed in the back.
Believe it or not, that was considered sexy in the late ’80s.
Back to me being a butcher: Winn Dixie made me take a training course on butchering meat, using the machines and cleaning up at night. I hated working there. The meats were so gross. I would get there at about 5 p.m. as the day shift was leaving, and they would leave a list of shit work for me to do.
I would have to grind pork meat and fat to make sausage, then put it on those Styrofoam trays and wrap it in plastic. Customers would ask me to cut up hams — and always after I had just cleaned the slicer for the night.
I’d have to take apart all of the equipment — slicers, grinders, tenderizers. They had a machine for everything, and it was my job to clean out all of the little bits of fat and grossness that clogged every nook and cranny of the machines. I hated it so much that I seriously thought about being a vegetarian for a bit. But, you know, steak.
I would leave every night soaked in meat water and smelling of bleach. No wonder I never got anywhere with the mullet guy. Plus, I think he may have been straight — at least that is what I tell myself.
I worked for years at General Cinema behind Town East Mall. I was even assistant manager for a while. But then I finally got a car.
Once I had a car, it was much more important for me to go to Oak Lawn and be with my people. I found reasons just about every day to drive from Balch Springs to Oak Lawn. I just had to have a burger from Hunky’s, or I just had to go to Oak Lawn Records to see what was new.
I was addicted to the Lawn!
Eventually, I started working at Hunky’s and moved to Oak Lawn. That was such an exciting time for me. I loved working at Hunky’s and catering for The Hamburger Man. I was around gays all day every day, and I never felt more like myself.
Then I started to do drag. Cassie made it hard for James to get up every morning and go to work, so eventually I tried to live off of just doing drag. That was so stupid. Doing just drag when you are first starting out — hell, even when you are a seasoned show girl — is hard. One night of great tips can change everything, but the constant worrying about paying bills is stressful and can make drag a lot less fun.
Luckily, I found Sound Warehouse, Wherehouse Music and Blockbuster Music — all the same place, BTW. I loved working at a music store. I was really good at knowing what songs people were looking for, plus I found so many obscure songs to do in the show. And my bills were getting paid, so drag became fun again.
I would go to work at a music store in a heartbeat — if they still existed or were still relevant.
So what to do? Retail? I don’t think I’d be any good at that anymore; I kinda hate people. Maybe I should apply at a Spirit Halloween store? I love Halloween, but the first time I get called a fag, I’m gonna fight. Like I said: people, yuk. If y’all have any ideas, lemme no!
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova
