Chelsea Margaret

Today, I am recovering from the Roots concert I saw last night. For FREE! In idaho!?! It was hands down, one of the most musical shows I’ve ever seen. It seemed like one member of the group could start a groove, the others would follow suit, then the lyrics just slid right in. So needless to say, I had to be closer to such talent. I am my mother’s daughter anyways.

A bit about my mother and concerts. Well, actually just plain old anything where front row is an option.

She is a WIZARD at getting to the front. Security? It means nothing. Why? You may ask. Well here’s some tasty tidbit from someone who was once a securtiy guard at Beasley Colliseum.

Imagine you are me, a secrity guard at a performing arts center.

You had to be there, an hour early, to sit in the nosebleed section and listen to your way-too-excited-about-their-job manager re-explain the rules of the facility to you. You listed to this speech every time, and the only thing you can think of while they talk at you and your co-workers is how amazing it is that they never lose that go team zeal. Though they can never manage to remember a single employees name.

You are assigned a section, get into your uniform, which includes an oh so stylish navy blue polyester vest that is three sizes too big for you.

Then, you stand. Wait for people to come in. You aren’t allowed to talk. It’s quiet.

Flash forward to the show.

You can’t listen to it, because you have been instructed to focus. FOCUS!

In comes someone like my mom. Charming, cute, sweet thirty something looking mom who has the biggest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. She is just bursting with excitement, because she hasn’t seen Loverboy since she was in high school! And he still looks as good as ever in those red pants, can you believe it? She asks you. She’s with her sister…equally charming and beautiful. She asks if it would maybe be possible to sneak into those seats down there that no one has sat in for twenty minutes… she’ll leave if they come, promise!

As an obligation, you have to tell her no. She smiles. Well, she says, we’re just going to go get a beer at the concession stand then, would you like one?

You reflect on your wages. 7.35 an hour.

you reflect upon your manager. Cringe.

You take her up on the offer, and lead her right up to the front. Laughing at your rebelliousness.

This is how it all goes down. Because let me tell you, there are some jobs that simply don’t pay you enough, and don’t challenge you, and actually make you a somewhat hostile person because of this, and sometimes, all it takes to snap you back into reality is a plastic bottle of Bud Light and a huge smile from a die-hard Loverboy fan.

That’s the moral to the story kids.

Needless to say, I got to the front row last night. I have the bruises on my sternum from the barrier to prove it. And though I nearly hyperventilated a few times, I tell you it was worth it.

So kudos to the security guards that don’t take their jobs seriously. And to the University of Idaho’s entertainment board for booking the best show I’ve ever seen.