Our Shared Hatred Of Kim Mitchell

Ben – Michael Jackson

When I got to work last Tuesday there was quite a commotion.

Holy shit, was that him?
It was, man, it was!
Yo, that was Dougie!

The “Dougie” in question was none other than one Mr. Douglas Robert Gilmour. I could care less about hockey, but when I was in grade school, Doug Gilmour was as famous as professional athletes get in Canada so even I was a little curious. It was actually Sean Pearl that took care of Doug’s clubs and we all laughed when he told us that he didn’t even realize who it was at the time. He later told us that he rushed over to help and as he was walking away he was thinking, Wait a minute, was that Doug Gilmour?

Later in the evening, Ivana called me to the front of the shop just so I could meet him. I managed a Nice to meet you, Mr. Gilmour to which he politely responded with a smile and a Nice to meet you too. I suck.

If I’d known he was coming, I surely would have researched his Wikipedia entry and brought up the sexual harrasment allegations in ’88 that got him traded from the St. Louis Blues to the Calgary Flames where he would win his only Stanley Cup in ’89. He made time with a babysitter and was rewarded with a championship ring. Now I know why everyone looks up to this guy.

Honestly, I really wish it would have been someone else working instead of me because the whole experience was kind of lost on me. Tyler was working with me and he seemed genuinely enthused. He also got the $20 tip (much respect to Mr. Gilmour), so that may have had something to do with it. But yeah, you can’t expect me to get up for a hockey player, even one of the most famous Leafs of the 90s. That got me wondering what Canadian celebrities would have me creaming my jeans.

The first one that came to mind for me was Shania Twain, though I suppose that’s obvious and somewhat out of the realm of possibility. A man can dream, can’t he?

Then I considered how I’d react to an athlete currently playing for the Blue Jays or Raptors, but I realized that for the mostpart that would just make me mad. Can you imagine if Alex Rios showed up at the club? I’m definitely going to prison if he shows his face around these parts. That said, I would funkin’ go nuts if Steve Nash showed up. Not only because of his level of celebrity, but he seems like a cool dude. I’d definitely do better than “Nice to meet you Mr. Gilmour.” Ugh.

My real reason for posting is because I wanted to say how nice it is to be getting along with everyone in the backshop. I’m not saying I’d want to hang out with any of these people outside of work, but somehow I’ve managed to find common ground with everyone and it’s all good.

For example, with Cormack, we actually clash on a lot of stuff. He’s an old school rock head and that’s never been my strongest subject. He was also taken aback when in reference to Michael Jackson’s death I said It’s better this way and by my love for Lady GaGa. The latter is a tough sell for a lot of people I understand. We managed to bond when he brought up this DJ on Q107 who we both hate named Kim Mitchell. He’s an out-of-touch bum who apparently had a couple of hits back in the day (Cormack tried to sing them for me, but they didn’t register at all) and is always name dropping and going on about some wild and crazy (read: boring) time he had when he was on tour opening for Aerosmith or whomever. We don’t agree on much, but when it came to Kim Mitchell being a tool, we found compromise.

Then there’s Matthew Ferkranus aka Matt Fuckyouranus. I didn’t make that up. There has been a weird tension between Matt and I from day one, which is weird because he’s the first backshop employee I met. Pearl would later tell me that Matt can be insecure, but I thought he was just acting like a prick around me for no reason. We finally broke new ground yesterday. Pearl was changing into some rain pants and was doing the whole I’m getting naked everyone, don’t sneak a peek routine. I made some gay remark and Matt said he didn’t know Chinese people to use homosexual innuendo for humour (inconceivable!). I said You haven’t had your first Asian?, which was pretty funny at the time and I managed to get a genuine smile out of him. Later on, he seemed comfortable enough around me to walk around barefoot as we picked golf balls off the driving range. With his hat hair, rolled up pants and bare feet he looked for all the world like he’d lost his fucking mind. I told him as much and he just shrugged his shoulders. We capped our bromantic evening by discussing the virtues of Megan Fox, a surefire panacea for team chemistry. I’m not helping the guy move anytime soon, but we’re definitely better friends now.

I’ll get around to the rest of these knuckleheads eventually. I hate having nothing else to write about besides work, but that’s all there is to me right now. Oh wait, I got around to watching The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Not as bad as everyone told me it was, but nothing spectacular. I feel like David Fincher made the film to win a bar bet. You don’t think I can put together a film that will appeal to the Academy Award voters? Prepare to eat a dick, Ron Howard! And thus, Benjamin Button.

So, let me ask you. Do you think I could have done this?
No, no. It’s the valet guy.
No, no, I mean, driving Susan to lesbianism.
Oh…no, that’s ridiculous.
What if her experience with me drove her to it?
Suicide, maybe, not lesbianism.

1 comment