My Fair Life-y

Last week's post was absentee because I was absentee from the world of writing, being pulled in last minute on a short film as the 1st AD and production designer. These are big jobs to do simultaneously, especially when you're prepping everything one week before the shooting date. However, when the only other thing you're doing with your day is rearranging the toilet paper rolls in the bathroom and checking every so often to make sure your grapes haven't gone full-raisin, you find time to do these things.

And thus... the 7-10 minute film "Taking a Chance on Love" was designed and assisted.

With obvious flair.

The project was short and sweet-- a total of 3 days and we finished early each day. That's quite a step away from the last project, which lasted 3 weeks and only avoided overtime perhaps two times. Can I get a round of applause for realistic time frames?

Thanks.

Not to mention when you break down the hourly rate I was being paid more than twice what I was paid on the feature film... for less time and considerably less hair loss!

I have officially determined that it's great when life is fair.

Though according to this guy it's not the fairest of them all.

Some exciting news to accompany this exciting news: I am now going to be an assistant to the director... indefinitely! Which, in case you didn't know, is flippin' awesome. She's nice, reasonable, and as we've already established, fair. Not to mention it's mostly telecommuting, enabling me to live out my lifelong dream of working while naked. After all, there is no other profession in the world where such a thing is possible.

It is, however, part time, meaning the job hunt continues.

Let me tell you a little story about that.

Last Friday I went in for a job interview. I was given no details other than I had applied online, it was for a position in marketing and working live events, and I would be interviewing with a few other people.

FLASH FORWARD: I pull into a Sherman Oaks strip mall. I am dressed professionally and carry a hard copy of my resume in a translucent folder like I'm motherfuckin' MIB. As I draw closer to the address written on my Post-It I see there are a few other women lined up against the building... and by a few I mean at least 15 others.

"God damn it," I thought to myself. "A cattle call."

For anyone who has never had the pleasure of experiencing a cattle call job interview: fuck you. They're the worst. It's the art of degrading applicants by throwing them into one pile on the assembly line and giving them "the spiel" in one foul swoop so as to avoid any inconvenience on behalf of the hiring manager. If you recall, I got roped into one of these when I first moved out to LA and was invited to interview at a very fancy office building for an insurance broker position. I cry myself to sleep every night knowing that I could have led a life of wealth and suicidal boredom.

So a total of perhaps 20-25 young women all dressed professionally and carrying a hard copy of their resumes in a translucent folder like they're motherfuckin' MIB fill out applications and file into what appears to be a small theater space. The hiring manager tells us about what we'd be doing, which is essentially youth talent recruiting, and proceeds to interview us all one by one by having each girl stand up in her seat and use 3-5 minutes to sell herself in front of all the other applicants.

Are we having fun yet?

Perhaps the hiring manager was.

Over an hour I spent there, listening to young women talk about what makes them such a unique little snowflake. My interview was by far the shortest, so I figured I was at worst unappealing and at best unmemorable. As I sat trapped while a dozen women interviewed after me, I was specks away from standing up and proclaiming, "This is horse shit. Good day to you, sir, and your harem of applicants." I hated the idea of talent recruiting and I hated that I had been lured into this interview, even if it was decent pay for extremely part time work. I stormed away from the interview fuming when it finally ended.

And then they called and offered me the job.

I don't begin until next weekend. Who knows, it might be less effort than I thought, and hopefully less morally and emotionally degrading. I'll be the first to admit I got cocky with my work experience and merely assumed I would move on to something better. This is indeed a step backward, but it's not a step in the wrong direction.

"And it's money until something else pops up."

--the sandwich artist who has worked at Subway for eight years going on nine