The old Brooklyn Night Bazaar

The old Brooklyn Night Bazaar

The much anticipated BK Bazaar (formerly Williamsburg’s Brooklyn Night Bazaar) is beefing up its staff in preparation for its opening in the Polonaise building in Greenpoint. In addition to the staff needed to run events—like their stacked opening weekend, featuring Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah and Pissed Jeans on September 9 and 10, respectively—they also need people to staff the “bazaar” part of the venue, which includes a restaurant, arcade and, of course, karaoke rooms. As Greenpointers reported earlier today, that means they’re looking for, among other things, a karaoke manager. I, John Ambrosio, believe I should be that karaoke manager.

First off, full disclosure: I hate karaoke. I did it once, at my friend Rob’s birthday party last March, and have sworn to never do it again. I got tipsy off overpriced Budweisers and then sang Weezer’s “Say It Ain’t So” with the birthday boy while a group of drunk women angrily waited to howl a cover of Guns N’ Roses’ “November Rain.” It was awful. I have a terrible voice and I am bad at having fun and I hate other people’s taste in music. But here’s the thing, BK Bazaar: that’s who you want to be your karaoke manager.

Imagine for a minute, BKB, that instead of running a young-adult-centric one-stop entertainment center, you’re Al Capone running the rackets during prohibition. Who do you want running your bootlegging operation? Some freaking rummy bum? Or a teetotaler with a clean record? Exactly: this analogy works perfectly.

Sure, your first instinct might lead you to go with someone who loves to sing—maybe someone who went to school for musical theater or something. But this is a rookie mistake. You want someone who is not going to be distracted by constantly trying to jump on the mic and flaunt their golden pipes. To extend the metaphor from before to within an inch of its life, you want someone who is incapable of getting high on their own supply.

Besides, you don’t really want someone who’s good at signing to run your den of awful singing, do you? Someone who’ll make your customers think twice about embarrassing themselves by trying to arrhythmically rap R. Kelly’s “Ignition (Remix)” while a real artist is within earshot? Nu-uh.

Ok, ok sure, you’re thinking, but do you even have any ideas to bring to the table? Are you going to help us turn a profit, or are you just gonna be some constantly sour dark cloud who happens to have keys to the karaoke rooms? A totally reasonable question, to which I would say here are some policies that, if hired, I would like to institute:

  • Create a sliding scale for room rates based on my subjective opinion of the artist you’re singing along to. You wanna do an Elvis Costello song? Sick dude, the room’s free. You wanna cover Adele? $400, please.
  • Anyone who tries too hard to be part of a show happening at BK Bazaar (either by overly enthusiastically responding to a band’s stage banter or forcing themselves on stage to dance) has to pay us $45—the going rate for a karaoke session/the cost of simulating the thrill of artistic expression.
  • If you legitimately impress me with your singing ability, your session is comped, but you are also banned from singing karaoke here ever again, you exhibitionist jerk. Go start a band.

And with that, I think I’ve made a pretty good case for why I should get the job. The ball is in your court now, BK Bazaar.

My editor has also told me to let our readers know that if you are also interested in the position, you can email to apply. But know that if I do get this job and I catch wind of the fact that you once tried to steal it our from under me, you will be banned from my rooms for life. Sorry!