February 13th...Valentine's Day Eve
"Shit," was the first word that came to mind. "She didn't even have the guts to tell me to my face," I murmured, leaning back and pushing my chair away from my laptop after reading the e-mail from what was now my ex-girlfriend, Toni.
"Dear Steve," is how she started, and it went downhill fast from that point. Reasons and all the other excuses were eloquently written out in black and white, but in the end, she was dumping me on February thirteenth, the day before Valentine's Day—of all things. Incompatibility, not meeting her needs, and my working most weekends, were the three big reasons she listed.
"I hope we still can be friends," is how she ended it. That was a nice way of saying she didn't want me to go off on her the next time we saw one another.
If this was the first time I'd been dumped it wouldn't have been so bad, but it wasn't. It was becoming the norm rather than the exception, and I had no one but myself to blame. You see, I could only do my second job between Friday night and Sunday afternoon. I am what you would call a budding photographer, who for the last two years had done more than four-dozen social events. It seemed like every Friday, Saturday, or Sunday I was doing a wedding, Bar Mitzvah, anniversary, or some other function that people wanted a remembrance of.
Without an established company name I wasn't raking in the big bucks, so I ended up doing as many events as I could cram into my tight work schedule and declining social life. But how else do you build up a new business? It takes a lot of hard work and more than a few sacrifices. But at this particular moment I wasn't sure if it was all worth it.
Toni had lasted the longest of my last four relationships. I would tell them upfront what I did most weekends, and every one of them said it wouldn't be a problem. And at first it wasn't until they wanted to go here or there and I couldn't make it because I already had a booking.
With Toni things came to a head when I couldn't accompany her to a good friend's wedding.
"Steve, I told you to keep that date open," she yelled at me. "You promised!"
"Toni, it's a huge wedding, and I was recommended by someone who can throw a lot of business my way. Look, why don't I meet you there after I'm done?"
"Don't bother!" I heard the dial tone.
I thought maybe she'd come around. I had even picked out a special Valentine card and present for her. I hope I kept the receipt.
"You graduated college with a hobby," my father liked to say. "Son, an Art Photography major with a Graphic Design minor isn't going to take you far in the business world." When I couldn't find a job of any kind, he pulled a few strings and got me one.
You see, my dad works for a large insurance company. He wasn't in top management, but had enough friends there so when something did open up, he was the first one to know about it.
"Steve, it's nothing special, but it gets your foot in the door. Work your ass off and I can guarantee you'll move up in the company." So began my exciting job in the Accounts Receivable department.
If you didn't make your monthly premium payment you got a letter from me or someone in our department. If the letter didn't work you received a personal phone call.
"Steve, you've got to be a hard ass and develop a thick skin," is how my dad explained it to me. "Remember, it's just business, nothing personal. Hell, you'll never see any of those people you'll be calling anyway." I got good results without having to be an ass or threatening anyone.
"Mrs. Connors, you're two months behind on your policy," I explained to her over the phone. "I really don't want to cancel you because they'll never rewrite your policy at these low rates in the future. But in order to do anything, I need some type of good faith gesture on your part showing you're at least trying to catch up. If you can see yourself clear to make, say, half a month's payment, then I won't have to cancel you." Most people sent in something each month after I worked out the details with them. Some of the clients I had to talk to had been laid off, or had lost their jobs entirely, but were relieved to have someone work with them until they could get back on their feet. It pissed off accounting, since they had to do more record keeping, but I made points with upper management because I'd thought outside the box.
"You've got a real future with this company," I was told by my boss, when he was given part of the credit for what I had accomplished. "We need more people friendly individuals like you around here to keep the existing business we have in these tough times." But truth be known, I just didn't have it in me to cancel anyone. Everyone was struggling to make ends meets, and I didn't want to be the one to add more stress to their lives.
However, photography was my true love. Outside of work I always had a camera in my hand no matter where I went. It first started when I was just a kid and my mom gave me a Kodak instamatic camera for my tenth birthday. At first I thought the crummy, second hand camera was a stupid gift, until I started taking pictures. Soon after, that's all I did.
People, places, and things are what I shot. My mom encouraged me at every turn, but my dad thought it was a complete waste of time, especially since it was costing him money every week for film and developing.
"Steve, a boy your age should be playing ball or something. All you do is play with that stupid camera of yours." It was nice that he was taking an interest in what I was doing—NOT... But my mom encouraged me.
Becky lived next door to our house. She was two years younger than I, and a royal pain in the ass. Whenever I had my camera in my hands, she was there wanting her picture taken.
"Steve, I'm going to be a model some day and then you'll make a lot of money taking pictures of me." She'd smile, strike a pose, and I'd take another picture of her. It went on for years.
