Not so much.

I am not cut out to be an entrepreneur.

A couple of weeks ago, I realized that I could make money by waiting in the Shakespeare-in-the-Park line for people who had to work. Since I am, at the moment, living literally a block away from Central Park, this week seemed perfect.

Not so much.

After advertising on Craig's List, I found a woman who wanted the tickets on Monday. So I went. It seemed like the responsible choice would be to go early, like 7ish. Since I had previously waited in the line starting at 8, going at 7 seemed perfect.

Not so much.

The line was long. Crazy long. 450 people in front of me at 7 in the morning (the tickets are given out at 1 PM). Needless to say I didn't get a ticket. And therefore did not get my $100 fee for sitting in the line. A day wasted. To my mind, it was pointless. Way too early to get there in order to be sure of a ticket. I was done.

Not so much.

Undaunted, the woman who wanted my tickets wrote to beg for another try on Thursday. Me, being a total sap, agreed to do it. I knew it would be even busier by Thursday, but I figured that I could get up early, just that one morning. Of course it would be easy to get tickets if I made it to the line by 5 AM!

Not so much.

This morning, after a night of inconveniently-timed insomnia, I leaped out of bed at 4:30 and walked the darkened streets into Central Park. Because you know what's not a good time to be wandering around Central Park by yourself? 5 AM. Fortunately, New York is full of lunatics, all of whom were in the Park that morning. I approached the line, only to see the vague, murmuring shapes of about 200 people moving about in the pre-dawn light. Yes, there were 200 people in line by 5 AM. Time to take comfort in the shared insanity and to hope that our insanity would yield tickets!

Not so much.

I settled down for the long wait. For once, I figured I was in a good position. Totally in the zone that always gets the tickets. Just had to pull the blanket over my head (pre-dawn Central Park seems to be full of mosquitoes -- who knew?) and wait it out.

Not so much.

At 7 AM, the line guy showed up. Instead of doing his usual "this is is the cut-off for definite tickets" spiel, he gave a new speech. For today, of all the days of the summer, was the corporate day. The day in which the entire spirit of free theater for the masses is subsumed by the greed of the corporate sponsor. In other words, there were virtually no tickets for the huddled masses. They were all going to those who paid for the privilege. Free theater?

Not so much.

I thought about leaving. It looked bad for my ticket chances, after all. But I had promised to try to get tickets for this woman! And I am way too true to my word for my own good. I would stick it out and hope for tickets.

Not so much.

Tired of just lying there being tired, I decided to check my e-mail (yay for the technology!). Upon opening said e-mail, I noticed a message. From my ticket buyer. Sent last night. Seems that gmail chose not to update at that time... And the gist of the message? She didn't need the tickets after all. And she hoped that my day would be better for it.

Not so much.

Choices. Do I stay and try to sell the tickets to someone else? Do I give up and accept my loss of sleep? Do I wait for tickets and then keep them for myself, despite having already seen this play twice? The befuddled pondering of but a moment brought about the answer. Was Shakespeare worth anymore of my time?

Not so much.

As I walked out of the now-daylit Park, I saw the forms of the many people hurrying in the direction of the ticket line. More fools who, like me, thought they had a chance.

Not so much.

Some people make the entrepreneur thing work.

Me? Not so much.