A lot happens in nearly two years and some information needs updated.
First, the post “Bye Bye Blacksmith?” In this post I vented about “getting fired” from the Colorado blacksmith booth. What actually happened was a supposed “misunderstanding.” See, I was the first of the shop workers to arrive at the faire that year and when Paradise, the faire owner, cornered me about the whereabouts of the blacksmith team. In order for the guys to not get into trouble, I went ahead and started setting up and quickly made some phone calls to get everyone on the pass list. Come to find out, the “new apprentice” was actually one of the guy’s wives; no one recognized her real name. This is the same guy that tried to “get me gone” and started the rumor. When he confirmed the pass list with the office gals, he still “forgot” to put me on. I had to triple-check the list, but the girls got me on. Later, I confronted him about it, and he denied ever suggesting such a rumor. Hmmm.
Suspecting some foul play in the future, I got a steady job at the kitchens and wound up becoming a valuable asset and proved myself in front of Paradise himself – as he owned the kitchen. I still worked the weekdays at the shop and sold my products through my master, who earned a 30% commission, as we agreed upon. This was a trial run on the commission and it worked so well that both my master and I profited. Of course, the same fool I mentioned above tried to take credit for the idea and later tried to implement it for his own “apprentice,” and later for the whole shop, but the idea crashed and burned each time. (Mostly because this fool was a lazy fellow who couldn’t clean up after himself, was prone to melodramatic tantrums, refused to take the time to make items that sold and over-charged for his inferior products.)
At that show, I proved I could not only make money for myself, but for the shop as well – without being there to sell on the weekend.
That Colorado was a dramatic one, one that hit me personally when one of the boy’s girlfriend got my own master into serious trouble. My anger was so great that I wanted to do her serious harm, but instead broke my bottom front teeth. After all, a dental bill is cheaper than bail for a physical assault charge.
The blacksmith drama only increased after that. In Pittsburgh of that year I was “banned” for nearly two weeks out of the shop so that the Fool could “work.” Of course, even though he stuffed the forge like a
Thanksgiving turkey, he mostly played around with his computer or threw tantrums when his poorly maintained equipment broke or he burned up all the propane before getting anything done. I wasn’t worried, because I already had plenty of stock made, and I’m very resourceful about how I get my product made.
One the last weekend, I proved what I could do by out-selling everyone in the booth put together, despite the work ban and by hardly doing any actual selling. In the meantime, in order to make up for his lack of product, the Fool upped the prices on his crappy products three times that weekend, hoping to make a bulk order deal, while everyone else in the faire dramatically slashed prices.
Oh, and not to mention the stress-demon he managed to conjure in his corner of the shop and the day he threatened physical harm to my family for his own baby sitter’s incompetence (of which I had nothing to do other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time). He apologized (sort of), but only after I had a buddy of his tip him off that he was about to get the “local law enforcement” calledon him.
This year I was not on the circuit. My hubby and I went to Texas to help a dear friend, because I promised, and we wound up getting stuck there for the entire season. I later heard the melodrama didn’t stop with me. My master quietly and wisely turned the shop over to the other boys after they brought in the above-mentioned girlfriend as their counter girl in TRF – a move that in my opinion, was downright cruel and disrespectful to my master, a “long time friend” of both of theirs. Without my master, none of those boys would have any of those shops! Later, a big fight broke out between the last two boys to work in Colorado (I am not including the other “apprentice,” who wisely kept himself completely distanced from the drama) and now the only one left whose name is on the contract is the Fool, and recent reports tell me he’s just as abusive and lazy as ever. Without the others to pay his way, I doubt he’ll make it into TRF, the big, money-making show.
My only hope is that the Fool will fall in his own puddle of deceit, laziness and dirty politics and that his “apprentice” will soar up out of the ashes. I hope that, if that happens, I can come back to reclaim the Pittsburgh booth, which has happy memories for me, despite the later drama. In the meantime, I’m glad all of THAT is behind me.
As for the rest of the chapter in this book of missing pages, while in Texas I learned to wield a chainsaw to make art, adopted two lovely Rott-mix puppies (that I sorely hope I can still keep), and am now awaiting the arrival of my first child, who is due in November of this year. I’m back at home near my folks, John just found employment, and we’re looking for a place to call home.
For now, the cross-country journey is over, but definitely not for long. As I’ve said to many of my “stable” friends – Once you get a taste of true mobility, it’s hard to let it go.
Peace, my dear friends and devoted readers!
Diary of a Wandering Hen 
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