#027 - Missing Chapters - pt. 1

JUNE 2020

There are parts of anyone’s life that they omit from the topics they converse about. These omissions are those that only close friends and therapists know, the ones that keep you up at night, and the parts of your life filled with the big R-word - regret. I’ve written in other journals that as a Christ-follower, Jesus takes all of this regretful baggage and removes it so we can live our lives free of this burden of guilt and regret. These circumstances are oftentimes embarrassing not only to the people involved but also to the target of the situation personally. This journal will be about my journey and the omitted chapters of my life, the ones that I can use to help others because, in reality, it is the purpose of living a meaningful life. Without too much preface, let’s dive into it. 

All I do is work, work, work, work.

My parents always made me do chores for as long as I can remember. Boo hoo. I’m a stubborn person, which relates in a minute. The thing about stubbornness is that it seems to be a trait that is inherent in almost all human beings. Some of this can be cured with social drinking, but when a person’s mind is unwaveringly decided, then very few things can dissuade them. This is true with me and with work and the work ethic instilled in me from figuring out how to do most things for myself. So, back to chores and my stubbornness.

Don’t get me wrong. My parents were there for me, loved me relentlessly, and provided a safety net for my rebellion in ways only parents would understand. They would try to teach me, but my stubbornness would prevent most lessons from sticking - at least the easy way. So, repeatedly, there are stories from my past that are lessons learned the hard way. I don’t want to get too far off track here.  

When I was 16, I got my first real job that wasn’t working with my dad’s construction company and waited tables at Folks restaurant for about three months. It was a horrible experience, and I made decent money, but I quit because I was working late nights and needed to focus on school. If I were to tangent off about school, we’d be here for hours. I had slightly above-average stamped on my forehead, end of the story. 

Shortly thereafter, I attended a job fair and met one of my first memorable bosses, Cory. He was the guest relations manager at Stone Mountain Park - a local tourist attraction outside Atlanta. I remember when he handed me his business card and told me he had a job that would be great for me. A few weeks later, I started as a Park Ambassador and was paid to talk to people about the park all day. I loved that job more than anything and loved taking my friends to laser shows and hikes around the park. 

Around the same time I started the job, I got my first speeding ticket and had to take another job at an animal hospital to pay for the ticket and hide the ticket from my parents. It is funny what teenagers will do. I borrowed money from my Certificate of Deposit at the bank and paid it back before my mom found out. Still, two months later, when our family insurance premium skyrocketed, they found out anyway. I left the animal hospital around three months into working there because it wasn’t a good fit, and I stayed at Stone Mountain for the rest of high school.   

In 2006, I graduated and, after applying to a couple of universities, found that I didn’t have the grades to go anywhere cool. I was lucky enough to have my parents pay for my first few years at a smaller community college so I could transfer to a larger university later. I always hated school, loathed more than hated—the catharsis of education.

I got fired from Stone Mountain in 2007 after my manager and I were involved in an accident. She decided to try and cover it up. I told the truth, but it was too late, and we both lost our jobs. She found work at a sports retailer, and I began my lucrative career at an upscale Italian restaurant, making way too much money for a 19-year-old. It was only a matter of time before I longed for something else outside of my childhood home. Plus, living with my parents was driving 19-year-old me insane. 

My roaring twenties.

So, when I was 20 and still enrolled in college in Atlanta, I quit waiting tables and took a job at a church in South Carolina for which I was unqualified. For the first month, things were great. After that, I began to yell at people who weren’t doing what I wanted and belittled all the volunteers for not knowing how to do the things that I myself did not know how to do. I stepped down into a diminished role at the end of February and focused more on school and lighting in Atlanta. The year was 2008ish. 

After my obligations ended with the church in South Carolina, in 2009, I found a job working at Banana Republic and moved back into my parent’s house to adjust and refocus my life. Church, which had been a part of my DNA for so long, was now optional, and I slept in on Sundays and enjoyed it. God always has other plans, and though I was running away, he was drawing near to me. In early 2010 I took a job at a Starbucks in the heart of downtown Atlanta and that experience would be one that would make me draw closer to God. 

Taylor, the latte boy.

By far, one of the most fun and life-shaping jobs of my life was working for the busy Starbucks in downtown Atlanta. If you wanted to visit the store where I worked, you could not because they have since closed that location. My boss, Jonathan, was gay and became a gay mentor to me. He taught me how to be myself and also how to be gay. He was well-connected in the Atlanta community and would take me to drag shows and introduce me to Atlanta’s drag queens. 

There was nothing like giving people their first cup of coffee—the joy of seeing the night melt away with the first sip. In any coffee shop, you have regulars, and Atlanta’s homeless population became our regulars, along with the business people from downtown. They all wanted the same thing. 

When conventions would come through the city, our store would be at the epicenter of the action. During costumed comic book conventions, I would make endless orders of frappuccinos, and during fashion week at the apparel mart an army of nonfat lattes.  It taught me to keep cool under pressure and countless communication skills. We would give the hotdog guy outside free coffee and let him fill up his water in exchange for free hotdogs. Homeless people knew our store as the one that would give out ice-cold water on the sweltering Atlanta summer days, and our regulars were fiercely loyal.

Showing up one random Sunday.

In the middle of 2009, I attended church for the first time in six months. There, I ran into an old friend who knew me when I was a teenager. That old friend was going out of town and needed someone to fill in and had been trying to figure out who would be up for the job. Knowing that I was a lighting guy and a Christian, he asked if I was interested. I was floored because not only was it doing what I love, but it was where I wanted to be! 

It wasn’t long after that I was working at Starbucks during the week and for him on Sundays, making lifetime connections at both places. In 2016, I had a boss tell me that you never know who will be standing behind you, and at this point in my life, I was just hanging out, not knowing where or how I was going to make a career out of lighting. One Sunday, my life changed forever by simply being in the right circle at the right time.  

In 2011, after over a year at Starbucks and Church, I was offered my first touring position with a major Christian artist. I had to step down my hours at the store and Sundays at the church, which got me the job. It was a gamble for me, and after I was offered the job, my next memorable boss, a fellow Taylor,  told me something I will never forget, “The last guy left in a taxi.”

The first tour I was on was legendary for me. I went from not knowing my ass from a hole in the ground to keeping up with the old pros on our crew by the end of my first leg. It is where I saw America for the first time and when I truly fell in love with lighting. Every opportunity I have had since has been because of that tour, and it was enough to show people that I knew what I was doing. Since this is more of a narrative about the missing chapters of my life, I won’t go into too much detail about the shenanigans that happen on Christian tours. (Maybe in a few weeks) Most of which I couldn’t tell you anyway. The bottom line is that not only did it give me street cred, but it also turned me into a very arrogant and smug person, and that is the ultimate lesson.  

At the beginning of 2012, because of my touring, I wasn’t able to keep enough hours to keep my job at Starbucks. The tour had also really burned some bridges with the church. I also decided to transition full-time into what I really wanted to do with my life—lighting. All of this because I needed to build my skills and my career.

While I was far from God, He drew near to me, and I was rewarded with a gig and, ultimately, a touring position. My ultimate downfall was my ego, and in the aftermath, it became a turning point in my life, and I am still ashamed of it to this day. Instead of giving back to those who gave me opportunities, I gave into myself and my ego to disastrous results. 

But that's for tomorrow, though. It's not as bad as you think, I promise.