![\"MardiGrasLuckyDog\"](\"http:\/\/hamburgersaremylife.files.wordpress.com\/2009\/07\/mardigrasluckydog.jpg\" "\\"MardiGrasLuckyDog\\"")
complementing cold beverages, to minions of tourists that walk Bourbon every night, most of their brains clouded with an alcohol-induced haze that doesn\u2019t object to the highly excessive $4.25 price tag.<\/p>\n(For those of you who aren’t aware, “Lucky Dogs” are the hot dog street vendors in New Orleans). I wrote about this experience when I was living in the Big Easy.<\/p>\n
The smell of steamed hot dogs permeates the air; a dozen Lucky Dog carts line the front room like sentries waiting to stand their posts. To the right, a few carts lie in various stages of disrepair, waiting to be renewed and returned to duty, like other \u201curgent city services\u201d, Lucky Dog carts are on call virtually 24\/7. Vigilantly posted at street corners through the French Quarter, they are charged with the mission of dispensing steamed tubes of animal meat by-products, and complementing cold beverages, to minions of tourists that walk Bourbon every night, most of their brains clouded with an alcohol-induced haze that doesn\u2019t object to the highly excessive $4.25 price tag.<\/p>\n
A small office in the back, stacked with racks of plastic-bagged buns and bottles of soft drinks is vacant. Classic rock plays in the background as I make my way around the corner, past the cart graveyard, and spot a wizened, pony-tailed man sitting astride an overturned five gallon plastic bucket, smoking a cigarette, nodding his head to the music.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho do I see about work?\u201d I ask. He replies, \u201cshe\u2019s not here, she\u2019s out for awhile, don\u2019t know when she will be back \u2013 best to come in around 4:30 in the afternoon or 9 in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the deal?\u201d I ask him, inquiring, in my mind, about the financial remuneration on offer.<\/p>\n
He says in a \u201cduh\u201d tone of voice, \u201cWe sell hot dogs, haven\u2019t you ever walked around the French Quarter at night and seen our guys?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, sure,\u201d I respond.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell you got the general idea then,\u201d and he goes back to smoking and listening to the rock and roll. \u201cJust because you see me smoking here, doesn\u2019t mean you should think you can. There is a right place and a wrong place. This is a wrong place. Right place is the front door, or outside. But I know how to not get caught. I wouldn\u2019t want you to get in trouble, tho, cause you don\u2019t know the rules. They don\u2019t know I smoke here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, right,\u201d I think, as I looked at the crematorium-sized pile of ashes scattered over his shoes and the floor\u2026 \u201cthey\u2019ll never notice that.\u201d<\/p>\n
I repeat my question about the financial structure of the transactions, putting it more basic terms.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, well, you get 16% of everything you sell. Course you don\u2019t get the best corner right away, so it might take awhile to work up to a living wage, but if you do well on the corner where they put you, they\u2019ll notice, believe me!\u201d<\/p>\n
He nods off for a second again, lost in the music. If I didn\u2019t know better, I\u2019d say he was a junkie, but 60s rock seems to be his only opiate.<\/p>\n
He says, \u201cYou know Bob Seger?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure, Flint, Michigan, Rambling Man,\u201d I quickly retort, reeling off a bit of trivia gleaned from my years in rock and roll radio.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s duly impressed, but challenges my assertion of the city. \u201cFlint, huh, coulda sworn it was Ann Arbor. Hate to be the one to break this to you, put a black cloud on your day, but\u2026. (he puts his hands up around his neck)\u2026..throat cancer\u2026dying.\u201d<\/p>\n
I assume he\u2019s referring to Bob Seger and not himself.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy oh why would \u2018they\u2019 burden someone like him, with something like that? I mean, make him go blind, but throat cancer? Oh my god!\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Doesn\u2019t\u2019 seem like he and Bob are close, but I act properly reverential at the news, and this opens him up.<\/p>\n
He extends his had and says \u201cJack.\u201d I extend mine and say \u201cPeter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat music,\u201d I say, \u201cgreat shit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep, those were the days,\u201d he said. \u201cI even saw Bill Haley once.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo fooling,\u201d I respond. \u201cBuddy Holly was my idol.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnother tragedy,\u201d offers Jack. \u201cYou know who else was great? Bo-fuckin-Diddly. Saw him down here once a couple years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s pretty fuckin\u2019 old, ain\u2019t he Jack?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOld?!?! Hell, he\u2019s fuckin\u2019 ancient!\u201d<\/p>\n
Jack and I have bonded, surrounded by empty ketchup and mustard containers, and piles of \u201cinvisible\u201d cigarette ash.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo who\u2019s the greatest, ever, you think?\u201d I ask him.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo fucking question about it, John Fogerty,\u201d he says, referring to the former front man of Creedence Clearwater Revival.<\/p>\n
I think to myself it would make sense the CCR would have been a mega group around these parts. I don\u2019t know how to label their music, but they played a kind of \u201cswamp-rock\u201d, surely the most original stuff of that time, and unique in the short history of rock and roll.<\/p>\n
\u201cFee-fuckin-nominal,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
Can\u2019t say I disagree, they were the first major group I ever saw live in concert, back in the days when packaged music came on 12\u201d vinyl platters, selling at less than $3.00 a unit. CCR were my heroes for a time.<\/p>\n
“Seems like I could find you an application,\u201d Jack said as he got up from his five-gallon throne, and we made our way back to the office side of the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cNumber one rule here, is wherever you put something down, it moves in between that time, and the time you go looking for it again! Ah here they are, got your own pen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep.\u201d He hands me the application, it\u2019s six pages long, and spells out the where\u2019s and whys of being an independent contractor, and the rules for being a Lucky Dog vendor. There seems to be only one \u2013 you must wear your official Lucky Dog shirt and cap from the moment you leave the building until the moment you return. Has to do with the \u201chistorical status\u201d of the company. (Translation: monopoly). It\u2019s tied to the reason that they have the exclusive hot dog vending license in the Quarter. Tourists \u201cexpect\u201d to see the familiar red and white shirts and caps when they visit New Orleans.<\/p>\n
The rest of the employment agreement has to do with the financial split, and how unaccounted for inventory must be paid for, all money is collected daily, each vendor must pay $2.00 a day cart rental, and another paragraph about the 16%.<\/p>\n
I do some rough mental calculations. Let\u2019s see, $6.40 minimum wage, 16 cents on the dollar, $4.25 unit cost, .68 cents commission on each unit, have to sell about ten per hour to hit minimum wage.<\/p>\n
Seems difficult. \u201cHow many weenies to they send you out with?\u201d I ask Jack.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot too many the first few days, til you ‘prove\u2019 yourself. After all, you\u2019re a total stranger!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, but they are just hot dogs,\u201d I saw, \u201cI mean, who cares?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFood is money,\u201d Jack says.<\/p>\n
I decided not to argue with him that I had always heard that it was \u201ctime\u201d that was money, not \u201cfood.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnybody ever get mugged?\u201d is my final question of the day.<\/p>\n
\u201cMugged, hell be jesus, guy\u2019s gotten shot before!\u201d<\/p>\n
And he tells me a tale that could have been easily reduced to \u201cmind your own business and you\u2019ll be OK.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I should come back at 4:30 today?\u201d I ask, as I finish filling out the application, supplying my usual vague answers.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, I hope you do,\u201d Jack says, and extends his hand once more. \u201cWe could use more good people like you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Yeah, me and Bob Seger.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
(For those of you who aren’t aware, “Lucky Dogs” are the hot dog street vendors in New Orleans). I wrote about this experience when I was living in the Big Easy. Rambling Man The smell of steamed hot dogs permeates the air; a dozen Lucky Dog carts line the front room like sentries waiting to… Continue reading My Encounter w\/ Lucky Dogs<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[15,16],"tags":[2171,2172,2173,2432,2433],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/341"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=341"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/341\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=341"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=341"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.peterstromquist.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=341"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}