It’s all my fault, really. I should have known better.
Everything was going SO WELL. Clients were happy, I was happy; I wasn’t getting beaten up or mugged or death rayed or having my brain put into a container it shouldn’t have been in. I was making money!
Alright, Mr. Marko. What brings you in today, I asked while setting up my gear.
“Lost my job, trying to get my swagger back.”
Fair enough, right? We’ve all been there. The shoot was going well, no explosions, no crushings, and no property damage. My assistant (with characteristically bad timing) stuck his head in to share two bits of bad news. “Mr. Marko? Your card has been declined. Oh, and Dave? I went ahead and bumped Piotr Rasputin up. He’ll be here in 15.”
The soaring half of life