Tunesday : Superman's Song

Superman's Song

(Roberts, B) Performed by Crash Test Dummies

Tarzan wasn't a ladies' man
He'd just come along and scoop 'em up under his arm like that
Quick as a cat in the jungle

But Clark Kent, now there was a real gent
He would not be caught sittin' around in no junglescape
Dumb as an ape doing nothing

Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him

Hey Bob, Supe had a straight job
Even though he could have smashed through any bank in the United States
He had the strength, but he would not

Folks said his family were all dead
Planet crumbled but Superman, he forced himself to carry on
Forget Krypton and keep going

Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him

Tarzan was king of the jungle and lord over all the apes
But he could hardly string together four words: "I Tarzan, you Jane"

Sometimes when Supe was stopping crimes
I'll bet that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back on man
Join Tarzan in the forest

But he stayed in the city
Kept on changing clothes in dirty old phonebooths 'til his work was through
And nothing to do but go on home

Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him
And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him

I was feeling pretty uninspired while trying to decide which song to feature this week, until I remembered Superman's Song. This was a tune Dave and I both loved and we'd turn it up when it came on the radio; singing along even though neither of us could hit (anywhere near) the same notes as this fabulous pair of singers. I picked it this week not for its literal morbid theme, but simply to have it in my discography. Yet now that I'm really thinking about it, it probably appealed to me right now because it captures something melancholy and nostalgic - the knowledge that you're at the end of an era even as it's happening - that does suit as the soundtrack to what comes next in my history.

As I wrote about last week, a Vietnamese gang took over the bar I was working at, and I felt forced to quit a job that had been so much fun for two years. After being the breadwinner for months and months while Dave tried to figure out what to do with his life, I didn't feel guilty taking a couple of weeks off as he transitioned into his job managing Theatre Network, but it wasn't long before I began looking for work again and there was one thing I knew for sure: I was done with our vampire party lifestyle - it was time to go nine to five. And yet at this point, waitressing was the only skill I had.

Delight gave me a lead: a manager (and friend of hers) at a lounge downtown was looking for a daytime waitress who could serve as his assistant; someone who could help transform a dead basement bar into a busy lunch spot. I remember the day I went for my interview - it was during a freak October snow storm and I had trouble driving the car through the drifts alongside the curb, and having to park too far from the lounge, I got sticky snow clumps on my skirt and down my shoes and in my hair, which became wet and limp and plastered to my head. Dragging myself in like the soaked kitty from the Pepe LePew cartoons after she has fallen in the pickle barrel, I did not make a good impression, and I did not get the job. 

Next, I applied for a job at the restaurant in the Citadel Theatre (at the time called Marlowe's). This was already a thriving lunch business: the large restaurant served a buffet every day for the time-crunched office workers in the surrounding buildings, and a small (ten table?) bar provided a more leisurely à la carte experience. They were hiring for the bar - which was good because that was the only full-time position they had; the restaurant waitresses only working three hours/day - and I was hired on the spot: not only did the Chinese-Canadian owner, Gordie, know my old boss Wayne, but he considered it a coup to have stolen me away from an obviously more successful businessman. (Gordie loved to talk about Wayne as though they were good friends - despite him always referring to my old workplace as Shangri-La's instead of Sha Na Na's - but no matter how long I worked for Gordie, I never transferred my loyalty to him; I never wanted to gossip about my former bosses who had treated me so well.)

Right from the beginning I found this job challenging: Although we had served food at Sha Na Na's, that was never the focus, and now I was handling a lunch rush just about every day. And while the restaurant waitresses served, probably, 90% buffet customers (so, just drinks and clearing plates) and large tables had a 15% gratuity automatically added to their bills (which I couldn't help but notice tended to reduce the quality of service), I was serving 90% off the menu and constantly running off my feet between the kitchen and the bar. After the rush, the restaurant would close and I would handle the small afternoon coffee/meeting crowd on the bar side, and most days there would be an afterwork cocktail crowd, with Fridays filling the place up. Although we were the only restaurant in the theatre, I don't remember serving a pre-show crowd; I'm pretty sure we were closed by seven p.m. every night (I don't remember exactly, but I probably worked 10:30 - 7 every day).

But I got used to the change in work and got good at it. One day the manager who had been Delight's friend came in and had lunch with Gordie (some Downtown Business Association meeting), and although I felt self-conscious serving him, it was obvious he didn't recognise me: When lunch was over, he teased, "You're exactly what I need in my lounge. How can I steal you away from here?" I'm sure I was blushing fiercely as I replied, "That's funny because you never got in touch with me after I interviewed for that position." And Gordie, the not terribly successful or competent businessman, laughed like he had succeeded at another coup.

I was busy enough that the money was good, and I became good friends with many of the waitresses in the restaurant, but although it was nowhere near as fun as working at Sha Na Na's had been, the greatest change was the switch to a daylight lifestyle. Getting the job at Marlowe's felt like a growing up - Dave was also working days at his theatre, we were married and moved into the first house we bought, and although we still hung out with Delight and Dennis sometimes, the crazy nonstop party days were over - and even though I knew in the moment that this was a good thing, I certainly felt melancholy. I spent about as long working at Marlowe's as I had at Sha Na Na's, but while the latter became an integral part of who I had been, Marlowe's was just a job. Ultimately, it was the lame time-wasting nature of this job that would finally force me to go back to school. And ultimately, even if I was saying goodbye to my high-flying Superman days, it was a necessary loss that paved the way for what came next.