Jensen Brother's Creative Aquariums

I had picked up enough regular aquarium maintainence gigs while working at Capitol to go without a job when they canned me. The maintainence game involved a VW Bus (which I'd bought about six months before getting fired) loaded with a big trash can for mixing up salt water and various pumps, nets and brushes for cleaning up aquariums plus a tool box full of water quality tests, salinity meters and the like. I kept stocked in food, heaters, salt and anything else I might sell to my customers. I bought the merchandise and all my fish at any aquarium supply store willing to give me a discount and able to stock and maintain quality livestock. The store's would give me a referal so long as I didn't try going around them, buying straight from the wholesalers or online.

I operated under the name Jensen Brother's Creative Aquariums. It was my hope to get enough work going to bring my brother James on board.

Most of my gigs were in waiting rooms and I had an inordinate number of chiropracters, most of whom struck me as quacks. I took care Dr. Prasad's tanks in exchange for free massages from the big Russian massage therapist. She broke me up but good. Prasad was from Fiji and loved keeping the same fish that he remembers swimming with as a child. What a way to grow up.

I had a few home accounts and these were interesting. Sharon lived in the foothills in a big gorgeous house. Her husband owned a car dealership and was rarely home. She wanted her tank cleaned every week, more than it could possibly need. I think I was there mostly for the company. When I was too busy to talk to her she'd be on the phone calling all the other lonely wives locked away in palaces. I made it a point to keep aside some time to talk to her on each visit. I knew that that's what I was being paid for. Of course we didn't have much in common and mostly I'd listen to stories about her husband's business and her cats. The cats were a riot. Deaf smash faced furry ble eyed little monsters who were both deaf. They'd chase the bubbles up and down the hoses as I emptied and filled the tank and they'd sink their claws and teeth into my leg whenever they caught me unaware. I'd get them back by sneaking up on them, easy to do since they were deaf, and then scarring the hell out of them with shaking the chair they liked to rest on.

Another house wife, of quite a different variety was Marin. When I showed up at her house and she answered looking gorgeous in a little tennis outfit I was sure I'd been cast in a porno. Fish guy, pool guy, what's the difference right? It's the tennis outfit that counts. She cleaned the house and talked to me as I worked, bending this way and that to pick things up and put things down. She was lovely. She was also devoted to her daughters and her husband and it became clear that I really was only there to take care of the fish tank. I was relieved but maybe a bit disappointed too. I didn't want an affair, but I wanted her to want an affair. I'd have felt like one hot pool boy then.

I got a call from a man who ran a large produce distribution business. His doctor was concerned about his blood pressure and reccommended a fish tank to relax him. He wanted me to set it up, make it pretty and keep it going with as little involvement from him as possible. He worked nonstop wanted the tank to be something he could just effortlessly enjoy. I showed up at his office, one wall of which was mostly window looking into the werehouse. He was juggling five supplier on five phone lines.

"Shane what have you got on bananas? George beat that by three cents. Okay hang on. George, Shane's got you by two cents. You can't beat him? Fine. Shane, George went down another three cents. You can? Great, give me a full load. What do you got on strawberries. Sue's beating that by twelve, come on now."

He'd click back and forth all the while looking out the window. And every once in a while he'd click the intercom button and his voice would boom inside the werehouse.

"You, get off your ass. I'm not paying you to stink up my fruit with your fat ass. You want to work for me you work. You can sit durring your break. Okay, John, what have you got on avacado?"

I was pleased to know he was making an effort at finding a way to relax. I set up his 100 gallon tank and stocked it with ten small damsel fish to get the filters seasoned. An aquarium is a living ecosystem and needs time to develope and stabize. I explained this to the stress case.

"Fine, fine. Great job Keith. It looks great. Thanks. We'll see you next week? Great. See my secretary, she'll pay you. Thanks, it's great."

The tank did look great. I was pleased with having been allowed to put together the perfect simple salt water tank without concern for a budget. Hell, maybe I'd talk him into a reef tank next and we could really get down to relaxing.

Two days later my phone rings. "Keith, you gonna bring me some fish. These little guys, they hide all the time. I've got this big empty tank. Is this what I paid all that money for? A big empty tank."

I had to laugh. "The tank has to mature. We're going to grow this thing up slowly. That's where the relaxing comes in. It's like watching flower grow and bloom. We have to be patient."

"Keith, I sell flower. I just go get a flower when I want a flower. I'm gonna go get some fish."

"Go ahead. You might as well save money though and buy dead ones, because that's what you're going to end up with."

I showed up the next week, tested his water, drew him some graphs to show where were at and where we needed to be. He gave me a crate of strawberries and told me that the offices were open twenty four hours a day. I could come and go anytime I wanted. This was great. I actually did make a few midnight visits. It was great to see him in such a good and generous mood.

We added his first fish, and when I came back the next day to check on the beautifull DragonWrasse I found it had a Green Bird Wrasse and a Cow Fish keeping it company.

"Hey, where did these other fish come from?"

"Oh Keith, that new fish you put in was great but the tank looked so empty. These are from my sister. She wanted to buy me some fish."

I let him know that this was risky and that I wouln't be responsible if the fish died. He didn't seem to like anyone questioning his actions. He agreed to everything I said but he was sullen and pouty.

I recieved a voice mail later that day accusing me of charging him for some night visits that he claims I didn't make. None of the guys in the werehouse had seen me. This was ridiculous as the guys in the werehous spent most of their time playing cards and getting high out of view of the cameras and therefore not within viewing distance of me. I could have suggested he look at the surveilence tapes from that night, but I was glad to have an excuse to sever our relationship. I wanted to be my own boss to escape people like him not to be anwering to them.

Another strange gig was for the State Department of Veterans Affairs. I was hired to move a large freshwater tank and it's inhabitants out of the home of a vet who had defaulted on his loan. I bid the job at $700 and was shocked to get it. I couldn't help blurting out, "The price seems fair?"
The man from the state replied cooly, "Hey, it aint my money."

I felt like I was back in line at the welfare office. Finding out their were this careless with our tax money only made me that much happier to find myself on the recieving end. I moved the tank clearing the countless beer cans and the occasional hyperdermic needle out of my way. This guy sure kept a beautiful tank for a junkie. Maybe I could find him and offer him a job.

Owning your own business occupies your thoughts all the time. I worked less than twenty hours a week and made a good living but it wasn't guaranteed and your brain doesn't let that go. It was exhausting constantly strategizing, scheming, or just worrying. I took a job at a restaurant for a while and then I worked for Spike and Mike again.

It was a few months before going back on the road with Spike and Mike that I met my strangest client. Jordan reached me through Capitol Aquarium. I arrived at his house, a fairly nice place in an upscale suburban neighborhood. I rang the doorbell, noticing I was on camera.

"Yeah?" the voice came from speaker by the camera.

"Hi. I'm Keith, I'm here to work on your aquarium."

"Oh, hey. Mike'll let you in. I'll be a minute I'm finishing my work out."

A black guy in a running suit, presumabley Mike opened the door and as I walked in I knew I'd stumbled into something. There were gold medals up and down the stairway. Mike showed me to living room and where a giant tv offered entertainment as two massage chairs offered relaxation. The other half of the large room was taken up by a drum set and sound barriers, fully miked, wires flowing through the wall to some unseen mixing board. Mike plopped down in one of the massage chairs and welcomed me to enjoy the other. I pretended to be busy organizing my equipment.

Jordan came down after 20 awkward minutes and introduced himself. He was a yound good looking black man, slightly out of breath from his work out. He showed me to his room upstairs where the fish tank was kept. On the way I saw pictures of him with Mariah Carey, Brandy and Aretha Franklin. I had to know whose fish tank I was cleaning. His bedroom was as big as my apartment and included a baby grand piano, and like the drums is was miked and wired to some sound board somewhere. I had not yet begun to be impressed, for there over his bed was a picture of him with Quincy Jones himself, and they were sitting in this very bedroom at this very piano!

I lost all sense of appropriateness. "Holy Shit that's Quincy Jones!" I blurted out.

"Ha ha." He had a generous friendly laugh. "You like Quincy."

"Oh man, are you kidding me? The man is a legend. I love his old big band stuff, his spacey jazz records his work as a producer. He's amazing."

Then Jordan and I talked music, from Quincy to Diggable Planets to The Cramps to Sisters With Voices. He had eclectic taste and a vast knowledge of pop music. I did eventually get around to cleaning the almost empty fish tank while he sat behing me rolling a joint. He offered me a hit and I accepted.

I have never been good at working while high but I figured that it was psychological. I had to fear the boss, fear the customer. Now I was smoking with the boss who was also the customer and I figured I'd be fine. I wasn't. My scalp tightened, my neck stiffened and I was not in a good space for making a professional impression. I got done and I left.

I turned down all future offers to smoke out while working on Jordan's Tanks and I wondered what the hell he was doing when I wasn't around. No matter what I did fish would not live in this tank. But Jordan was patient and kept footing the bill as I tried everything.

I brought the Jensen Brother by to help me out one day and to let him check out this cool house. Jordan gave us a full tour including the recording studio in his garage. He invited James to come back that night and James agreed to.

I warnend James that this seemed odd. He invited James without inviting me, which was in itself a bit awkward. Sure enough, Jordan had invited James over so that he could try and suck his cock. The stangest thing was that Jordan was so persistent. James explalined that he was straight and Jordan just told him to pretend a girl was sucking him off.

"It'll feel the same, only better than anything you've ever had."

James was not one to freak out. He actually tried to steer thing back to normal conversation. He worked out a bit on Jordan's turntables, talked about hip hop, but Jordan was determined to give some head. James said good night. Why James would a week later accept an invitation to a party I'll never know. He was at least smart enought to bring our pal Patrick along. Sure enough, what started as a party turned into just James, Jordan and Patrick within' an hour of their arrival. Jordan was totally unphased by Patrick's presence and tried to talk James into whipping it out, assuring him that it was a perfectly hetero thing to do.

I showed up to clean the tank and Jordan let me get elbow deep into it before asking if James had mentioned that he'd hit on him. I told him that James had told me but that it wasn't any of my concern. I was there on the clock to clean the fish tank and what happened off the clock was a different world. Jordan accepted this, but than started to ask me questions about my personal life. He'd ask me about my girlfriend, and weather I'd had any bi experiences, but mostly he asked me about James and I told him I wouldn't discuss James with him, at all.

It wasn't long after that that I headed to SF with Spike and Mike again. My buddy Brett would take care of my clients while I was on the road. Brett was a good looking guy, but James' opposite. James was tall, broadshouldered and baby faced. Brett was short, slight and he looked his age. Apparently he was Jordan's OTHER type.

"Um, Keith. Has Jordan ever, uh, well..." Brett struggled to get the question out as I talked to him from a pay phone in SF.

"Hit on me?" I helped him out. "Maybe tried to suck my dick?"

"Yeah that's it exactly."

"Nope. He did go for James though. Pretty aggressive too. Did he hit on you while you were there working?"

"Yeah. I had finished and we were hanging out, talking about music."

"Well drop the account, that's bullshit."

"No, it's cool. I was hanging out. I'll just not stick around after I finsih with the tank next time. And work to reestablish the boundaries. Um, Keith... something else is acutally bothering me."

"Everything you put in his tank dies?"

"Yeah. What the fuck. I thought it was me!"

"I worried that it was me. I'm relieved to hear your having the same rotten luck. I don't know if he's eating them or what. Keep trying, and hey Brett, if you decide you want to get your dick sucked it's okay with me."

"Yeah. Fuck you Kieth."

A week before I returned Brett called to tell me Jordan had grabbed his dick as he was cleaning the tank.

I showed up at the scheduled time and was welcomed back.

"Dude. Did you grab Brett's dick?"

"Yeah. What's the big deal man I was just playing."

What's wrong with my dick I wondered. I had no interest in having my dick grabbed but this getting god damned insulting. Did he want every dick out there BUT mine?

"He was working. That's harrassment. I can't let him come back here or I'd be vulnerable as his employer. I don't even no if I want to come back."

"I'm not going to hit on you. Don't worry."

WHY THE HELL NOT. I'm a good looking guy you dumb asshole. "Fine. I'll work on the tank, but when I go out of town you'll have to hire someone else."

I worked on the tank for a bit longer, but I got tired of dead fish. I passed the job off to David, the hippy from Capitol Aquarium. David looked like a cover model from a super market paperback romance novel. I was sure Jordan would like his dick.

Finally I got hired on at another aquarium and when I was offered a chance to manage the place I took it and said goodbye to Jensen Brother's.


>>>Read The Next Story, Waiting tables at The Union Restaurant>>>>