|
The Tales of The Aquarium Guy
I met the Aquarium Guy.
Not Rob Schneider, mind you – though he does often hang out here
– but a real-life, honest-to-goodness person who works on aquariums
for a living.
The man who cleans tanks was getting tanked in the local bar. Drinking
like a fish.
As he was explaining to me this most fascinating profession, I could
not help but be struck by the fact that this is one of the strangely
wonderful things about living in Los Angeles – people create all
sorts of jobs here that simply do not exist anywhere else in the world.
People pay other people to do everyday tasks that would seem absurd
anywhere else.
There's a girl who walks down the alley holding a half-dozen leashes
with tail-wagging canines tugging her more-or-less in a forward direction.
I see her every day. She is a professional dog walker. A professional
dog walker!? Are the owners too busy to take their pet for a pleasant
and necessary stroll in this very
nice beach town or are they just too lazy? Whatever the case,
the girl benefits. This occupation simply could not exist in, say, Tennessee
where I grew up.
A good friend sells food to the California prison system. Okay, he's
only doing catsup now but he's salivating at the prospect of getting
the contract for eggs. Or coffee. All he has to do is push paper. If
he hits this food emporium, then the only way to see him will be to
visit him on the beach in Thailand.
Heck, the girl who introduced me to The Aquarium Guy designs lingerie
on the side.
In L.A., the creative entrepreneurial spirit is as much a way of life
as sunshine and freeways.
And here's another fact of this somewhat bizarre existence: These can
be quite lucrative endeavors. Sound fishy? The Aquarium Guy reels in
six figures.
He has a regular client list and covers just one small area of Los
Angeles, leaving the rest of this vast land to other aquarium guys.
Of which, I'm sure they are plenty. The work involves cleaning and maintaining
tanks and, occasionally, installing and designing. He's worked on everything
from modest 5-gallon models to massive 1,000-gallon structures, which
he pointed out would be the size of the entire side of the bar in which
we were gulping.
How much would a 1,000-gallon tank weigh, I wondered. Before I could
even finish my thought he answered "Six pounds a gallon."
The Aquarium Guy really knows his stuff.
Dressed in dark jeans with club-like shoes, a Harvard-esque sleeveless
sweater over a black t-shirt and sporting glasses tinted a light blue,
he looked like the singer Bono. His high forehead and dark, parted hair
made him look hip, stylish. He's no American Gigolo geek in a bad Hawaiian
shirt.
So the obvious questions are how often is he hit on while on the job
and how often does he act upon it. His territory includes ritzy Palos
Verdes, where there are no doubt countless lonely countesses tending
the hubby's house while the man is away making millions. How many have
greeted him in see-through nightgowns? After all, pool guy, aquarium
guy – what's the difference?
"Once, when I was younger – to young to really know what
was happening – something like that did occur," he said. "I
got scared and left. Now I don't want to get into any of that kind of
thing. I always bring my one assistant with me just to be sure. I treat
this as a job, a profession. I'm there to work."
The Aquarium Guy charges $100 an hour and could easily make bank if
he were to expand to the upscale areas of Beverly Hills, Malibu and
Palm Springs. Imagine the business he could vacuum up in Las
Vegas.
But here's another fact of these L.A. Independent entrepreneurs: They
want enjoy themselves. Sit on the beach. Surf. Play volleyball. Go the
the local bar and drink without stress. They put in just enough time
to make a good living but don't want to spend every waking hour doing
it.
Not a bad way to go through life, I say.
The Bartender can be reached at bartender@pubclub.com
PubClub Home Page
|