the first year is the hardest; part iii

Before we moved to Los Angeles I would have described the location of our apartment this way, “the edge of Los Feliz, between Santa Monica and Pasadena.”  Anyone who has lived or even visited knows that this statement is akin to saying that Minneapolis is located between Providence and Seattle.  While both statements are technically true, their lack of attention to detail leaves out so much in between and often that’s what can make all the difference.

December had arrived, our first month had passed and the honeymoon was over.  This is not to say that we were tired of the city or that we’d seen all that it had to offer but we needed jobs and we needed them now.  Following my embarrassing rejection by H&M and Jaime’s costly rejection by Citizen Smith we were both spending 90% of our energy on the job hunt.  The other 10% was dedicated to endless discussions about what mistakes we’d made thus far.  Handing over our December rent took most of our money, if we were going to be paying for January then we were going to need to come upon some kind of cash flow.

Homesickness was beginning to hit Jaime hard and with no money to distract her from that homesickness many a Sunday evenings were spent with Jaime face down on the bed bawling into a pillow.

My upcoming interview at Borders was the only thing keeping me from losing it.  Since Citizen Smith Jaime had hit a wall and was hearing nothing in the way of job potential.  While I dealt with the stress by worrying and developing painful sores in my mouth Jaime was keeping herself occupied by baking.  Cookies, bread, brownies, cakes, you name it she baked it.

While mentally preparing myself for my interview I got a call from Fossil at Hollywood and Highland for an interview as a part-time assistant manager.  I knew it was a stretch from the beginning but decided to go in for the interview, which I botched so badly I tried to forget I ever did it.  It worked because until this moment I didn’t forget it.  When asked what I saw myself doing in the next two years I managed to mention everything but working at Fossil.  So they followed my advice and did not hire me.

The day of my interview arrived and we headed off to the Westfield mall in Century City, which brings me back to the top of the blog.  Having lived in the same city all my life I took my knowledge of how long it took to get from point A to point B for granted.  Now in a new city my understanding of how far places were in relation to one another was terrible.  I had only loose borders of what was considered too far, North Hollywood, Pasadena, Santa Monica, and Downtown were my limits, anything in between was fair game.  

I also came to realize that I had vastly underestimated just how bad traffic in LA could be.  It was not uncommon for it to take over an hour to get from Hollywood to Santa Monica, an equivalent distance in Seattle would take no more than 20 minutes, 30 minutes in traffic.  When I applied for the job at Borders I looked up Century City on google maps.  According to them I lived 8 miles away or a 30 minute drive with traffic.  It seemed reasonable to me and was proved correct while driving there for my interview.

Century City is located just east of Beverly Hills and just south of Brentwood, which should give you an idea about the clientele, the malls centerpiece store was Bloomingdale’s.  Surrounding that were other expensive designer stores which were next to only those stores on Rodeo drive just a few short blocks away.  Topographically it stands out as a pocket of towering sky scrapers.  It is also the talent agency capitol of Los Angeles, which includes CAA.  An agency who wields more power than the government, has more thuggish goons than the Mafia, and commits more human rights violations than North Korea.  If you ever come across a CAA intern or assistant you need only to look into their vacant eyes to see a completely broken human being.  Like a cult member they have lost all touch with reality and work only to please their demonic slave driving master.

My interview was conducted by Padric who stood about 6’3” and roughly 250lbs.  He pronounced everything with the British pronunciation and used words like “bloody” and “thespian.”  Two words that no one should use, not the British, not actors.  EVER.

He preceded to ask me some of the most difficult interview questions I’d ever been asked, and in turn I worked my ass off to answer them the best I could.  I left feeling positive but afraid that if I didn’t get this job, that I was way over qualified for, that I wouldn’t be able to get anything.

Jaime was working had as well, when not baking she was checking Craigslist hourly, applying to anything.  Eventually her persistance paid off and she was called in for an interview at the Chaz Dean salon in Hollywood.  Chaz Dean was a pompous dick-headed guy with an equally dick-headed name.  He was looking for a cleaning lady/all around assistant who: spoke English as their first language, had a college degree, and was not involved in the entertainment industry.

I challenge anyone to find a person willing to take this job who fits all three requirements  so that I can kill them myself.  These people just don’t exist.

Because he could not decide who to hire Chaz Dean brought in Jaime and another girl; a model and aspiring actress, to compete for the job for two weeks.  You compete in the Olympics, you compete to be the starting left fielder for the New York Yankees.  You don’t and should not have to compete to get a job to clean up a salon and be Chaz Dean’s all around bitch.  If I had the money and the power I would force Chaz Dean to compete against Paul Mitchell to see who could lick my toilet bowl clean and pick up my dog’s shit for $12 an hour.

I got the job!  I started the following week.  I genuinely enjoyed working at Borders, spending my days talking to customers about books.  The rest of the time I pretended to organize books while looking for interesting passages to entertain myself.  At the time the only downside to the job was getting there.

Clearly google maps was living in a fantasy land when it predicted the 30 minute drive in traffic, because the 8 mile drive easily took 45 minutes to an hour with traffic.  No matter which combination of streets I took (I tried them all) I could not cut down on that time.  Once I got there I then had to find parking, since the mall did not provide employee parking despite having an enormous garage.  I had to drive eight blocks further to Beverly Glen boulevard where I would be lucky to find available free parking.  This all boiled down to me leaving no later than an hour early to work to drive 8 miles.

I continued to work at Borders for the next two years before I slipped out in the middle of the night and never looked back.  There were good times and there were bad, mostly bad, the traffic never got better and parking never got easier.  I could however still spend my days reading books in hard to see corners when I was supposed to be working.

Right before Christmas the two week trial run at the salon ended, when decision time came she heard nothing and so she called only to find out that Chaz Douche-bag had chosen neither her or the other girl and would instead be conducting an new set of interviews.  Pardon my frustration but I hope that while combing his ass hair one day in the salon it burns to the ground.  The employees will stand outside doing nothing and when the Fire Department arrives they will deny that anyone remains inside.

Just over the horizon Jaime had another interview for a new Cafe opening up in January in Silverlake.  It was our last best hope, not only did we need the money but I also couldn’t take the baking anymore.

To be continued...