I gotta a job making money for the man, put the chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can.

I have had two jobs in “the industry” since I came to L.A.. They were both short lived, temp job type deals. At the first one I worked for one of the big studios at some satellite office, so I never got to go on the lot. Every day security gave me a bunch of bullshit when I tried to come in to work and I would have to go to the pay phone (I didn't have a cell phone yet) and call my agency. I was supposed to answer a phone for this executive. The only thing was she liked to answer her own phone. So, I only had to answer it while she was at lunch and it never rang then. Every day around 4pm, she would bring me a one page document to fax. I think she felt bad for me. I was probably sending blank sheets to her mom's house or something. My day consisted of trying to hide in my itchy polyester clothes so no one would notice that I didn’t do anything. It was oddly stressful. I would rather have been working. I sat in an almost empty cubicle. It had an electric typewriter and not much else. I did not have a computer, so no solitaire, no email no nothing. I read the complete works of Dorothy Parker in a week.

The second job I was working for one of the big industry papers. I was placed in the editorial department. Every morning when I came in, all the major newspapers would be lying on my desk with certain articles circled. It was my job to cut them out then photocopy several sets for the morning editorial meeting. It was to be my only peaceful time of the day. After that task was accomplished, the phones would be turned on. When the temp agency called me, they asked if I had ever worked with multi-lined phones. I said yes. I really should have asked how many multi is. I was thinking it was like five or six. Turns out it was forty. And they rang all the damn time. They never stopped until they were turned off at five. They were split between me and another woman, twenty lines each. Still, that is a lot. We never spoke to each other or took breaks. People would call, all agitated, yelling things like, “whose Kate Moss’s agent?” I really didn’t know anything about the industry and I have to admit I would occasionally “get cut off” from the person asking the hard to answer question. We got about twenty minutes for lunch and maybe one bathroom break all day. I was too inexperienced to call anyone out on the legalities of this. When my lunch break came, I would eagerly exit the building, lighting the first of three or four cigarettes I could suck down in twenty minutes. I would walk down the street to the 7-11 and get a hot dog and a soda. Once, I was walking through the parking lot and I saw a car that had been abandoned in front of the store while the owner went in to quickly buy chips, smokes, rubbers or whatever. He had forgotten to set the parking brake, but had locked the car up tight. It was rolling back into the very busy intersection. All these people came running to try to stop it. I remember standing there watching it drifitng forebodingly while all this anonymous good intention tried to make things right, and thinking, “yeah, entropy is a bitch”. But, they did stop it.

I got to actually go onto a studio lot the other day for an actual meeting. After the meeting, I did "get lost" a little on the way to my car. I think I have pretty much earned the right to wander a bit.

On looking for a job part deux (the saddening)

So the job search continues and each day brings a new lesson in humility. I have lowered myself to checking Craiglist. And yes, it is lowering oneself. For one, most jobs expect everything and give nothing back.

Example:
Can you design websites, answer a forty line phone, work overtime, travel, redesign our office, and speak Spanish and Chinese? Don’t bother applying if you can’t work weekends and baby sit the boss’s children while doing all of the above.
Compensation: 8-10.00 and hour

The other discouraging aspect is that you have to reevaluate your life daily. What didn’t fly yesterday may be a fucking okay today. Are you hungry and disappointed enough to be a sign spinner? Would it be awesome or awful if you had to wear a costume with a headpiece while spinning said sign? At least your friends wouldn’t know it’s you, but on the other hand the headpiece might carry that staph infection that started on skid row and county jail. Oh, what to do.

Not that any of it matters anyway. It’s not like after the many, many emailed resumes and cover letters I’ve sent, anyone has responded. Oh, I take that back. I did get one interview, at a collection agency. They worked on commission. So, however many people you could properly scare into paying you, you got a part of it. Not blood money exactly, more like corn syrup and food coloring money. Anyway, I passed, which I kind of regret sometimes, in my potential sign spinner employment moments.

The other job site I have been checking is Careerbuilder. All I have to say is, “Careerbuilder, you are no Monster”. In order to sign up, it’s like a half day temp job, with no pay, natch. After this lengthy beginning, the offers start flowing. Offers like:

Work at home 500 dollars a day, totally legit, just a one time sign up fee. This company is totally legit. We are a housewares company based in England that needs American data entry workers to help us collect payment. Totally easy and totally legit. Did we mention we’re legit? We totes are!!!!!

How does it even work that entering data helps collect debts? The whole pitch reminds me of a trannie hooker with a full beard trying to talk an army guy into getting a blow job. “I’m totally a woman, I swear! This beard is old food stuck to my face. I swear!”

Anyway, I’ll keep plugging away. The only other strategy I can think of is driving around looking for help wanted signs in windows of businesses. Maybe this can be my soundtrack. http://www.sadtrombone.com/ Wish me luck!!