Zachary Karabashliev - 18% Gray

No, thanks.

*

After failing to find work as a photographer, I decided to look for a job in a photo lab. One of the most famous ones on the West Coast was The Black and White. I went there on a hot afternoon with my portfolio in hand. Bob Evans, a disciple and friend of Ansel Adams, had been the owner of the place for fifty years. A bell above my head rang as I entered the store. Bob himself appeared. A gray beard hung down over his blue, rubber apron. He carried an enlarged digital print of a snowy mountain.

“How can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m looking for a job.”

“Fill out an application.”

“Mister Evans, could you, please. .” I tried to take out my portfolio to show him my work — everything in this folder had gone through my hands — photographing, developing negatives, printing.

“Fill out the application first and we’ll call you if something. .” He interrupted, without looking at me, carefully placing the snowy mountain against the wall.

“Could you. .?” I opened my portfolio and laid it before him. Only a flick of his eyeballs and he would have seen my masterpieces. He, however, didn’t take his eyes off the stupid mountain. He wrinkled his nose, squinted his eyes, and pointed toward a pile of forms in the corner.

“The applications are over there.” I stared at him for a while. What if I had grabbed him by the beard and swept the floor with his old fart ass? The phone rang, he picked it up. I snapped my portfolio shut and slammed the door behind me. The bell kept ringing as I crossed the parking lot.

*

I leave the store with that feeling of a job well-started. I need these kinds of feelings the most now. On my way to the car, I note that I haven’t been sad about Stella for almost an hour. I feel like screaming. I load the Nikon with color film and shoot it quickly, choosing different light situations — as much I can in a San Bernardino parking lot — I need to check how well it works. I pull out the roll of film and go into the closest CVS with a photo center — a big machine which every cashier operates when they are not busy with customers. I leave the film with a lady in a checkered uniform and roam around the store while I wait for the results. Thirty minutes later, I hold the warm pictures in my hands. Wonderful. I smile, jump in the car, pat my new friend, make him comfortable on the passenger’s seat, and head toward the sun.

*

About fifty miles east of Los Angeles, I enter the California desert and my rock station is interrupted by the voice of an evangelical preacher from the airwaves of a local Christian radio station. For a while I drive between the frequencies, U2 in one ear, religion in the other, Stella in the middle. I notice that I’m running out of gas. I realize I have to refuel soon as I adjust the seat to make it more comfortable. There are very few cars on the road, so I fly at over ninety miles per hour. Then I remember what’s in the trunk and slow down — it’s time for me to start taking that into consideration.

. . your sins, your transgressions, he took upon himself. . the. . z-h-z-h-h-z-h-z-h-b-z-z-b-z-b-z-b-z-z-j-j-j-j. . our sins. . z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-zd-z-d-z-z-z-zz-z. . Christ died on the cross for. . z-b-z-b-z-z-z-z-b-z-b-z-z-b-z-b-b-b-z-z-b-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z. . let us repent for. . f-f-f-f-f-ff-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-z-z-z-z-z-f-z-f-z-f-f-f-z-f-f-z-f-f-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-f-z-f-z-f-z-f-sin. . ’s gonna ride your wild hors-e-e-e-e-s? z-s-z-s-z-s-z-s-z-s-z-s-z-s-z-s-z-s-z-z-z-z-z-z. . enter the Kingdom of Heaven. . Who’s gonna drown in your blue sea? . . s-s-s-s-s-s-s-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z. . hey hey sha la la, hey hey.

*

— hey zack, I know what we have to do

— what?

— i’ll tell you, but first put the camera down and massage my bootie

— with pleasure. so what were you saying?

— we have to conquer the world!

— when?

— right away

— you and me?

— me and you

— why?

— why what?

— conquer the world?

— for. . fun

— massaging your bootie is fun

— yes, it is fun

— so why conquer a world in which there is no bootie sweeter than yours?

— you’re not conquering the whole world for just one bootie, silly

— then why conquer it?

— because you have to

— i have to?

— hell, yeah!

*

. . sha la la, hey hey sha la la who’s gon-n-a ride your wild hors-e-e-e-s, who’s gonna drown in your. . d-z-z-z-h-g-h-j-j-j-j-j-j-j-j-j-z-z-z. . are born in sin. . hey hey, sha la la, hey hey, sha la la.

I squeeze the last chords of music from the radio just before I pass the sign for Sun City (population 56,327) — I am now entirely on the preacher’s frequency.

He finishes his morning sermon with the parable about a master who, upon leaving his home to travel, calls his servants and entrusts them with his property. “Now, to one he gives five; to another, he gives two talents; and to the last, just one — to each servant, according to his ability. According to my dictionary here, one talent in those days would be between ten thousand and thirty thousand dollars now. Let’s agree on ten. It was a lot of money then. It still is. So, the first man starts a business and makes five more talents. The second also manages to double his talents. The third one decides to play it safe and buries his talent in the ground. Then, after some time, the master returns and asks to settle accounts with the servants. The first one returns ten talents. The master says “Great job, servant. Come, sit next to me, enter into the joy of your master.” The second gives the master two talents more than he had left him. The master is pleased “Well done, trustworthy servant. Enter into the joy of your master.” The third servant says “Look, master. I know you are a difficult man, reaping where you haven’t sown and gathering where you haven’t winnowed. So, I didn’t want to risk anything. I was afraid of your anger and that’s why I hid my talent in the ground. Here, you can have it back.” The master says: “You wicked and slothful slave! You know that I reap where I don’t sow and gather where I have not winnowed. If you didn’t want to use your talent, you should have at least invested it with the bankers, so I could collect it with interest when I came back.” The servant shrugs his shoulders because he doesn’t know what to say. “Now,” the master yells, “take his talent from him and give it to the one who has ten. For, to every one who has, more shall be given, and he will have abundance. But from him who does not have, even what he has, will be taken away! And throw the useless servant into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth!”

The pastor quickly interprets the parable and reminds us that he’ll be expecting us in church tomorrow. Whoever has to work can purchase tomorrow’s sermon on audiotape for $29.99 or on compact disk for $39.99. God bless us. I turn off the radio.

*

After about two months of futile efforts, I let down my guard completely and started working in a small camera store called Super Photo, located in an open mall. They hired me because I lied on the application that I didn’t have the necessary education or experience but am a fast learner. The owners were a tiny Korean guy and his wife, with whom he constantly quarreled. His name was William, and his wife’s — I don’t remember. He paid only ten bucks an hour, still better than nothing. There wasn’t too much to do anyway. After the first two weeks of training, he began letting me work on my own. The most humiliating aspect of this enterprise, however, was that I had to suffer William’s attitude toward my work. The pictures I printed for my customers were scrutinized and showered with criticism. He found them either too dark or with too much yellow and blue, either the contrast was not right, or something else was off. As time passed, I realized that his disapproval had nothing to do with me or my printing but, rather, was an emotional vent for his relationship with his wicked wife. She always had her hair and nails done, she protected herself from the sun with an umbrella, and for lunch she ate food with too much onion which made her breath unbearable the second half of the day. The customers who came to the studio liked my work and complimented it in front of William. Since I worked fast, they would leave their film in the store, go shopping in the mall, return later, pay, and go home pleased, only to come back with the next finished roll. William gradually adjusted his vision to mine, and his nagging became more subdued and less irritating. His wife started buying me sandwiches for lunch and giving me some extra money at the end of the week.