EPISODE 2 TRANSCIPT : “You Don’t Need A Job?”
Hollywood is not what it used to be in the risk-reward dept., but one thing that hasn’t changed is it’s always hard when you’re working toward your dream. A lot of people don’t know where to start and most of the time I couldn’t afford to be transparently vulnerable except for the closest of family, friends, peers and Stone aka Bebbles.
I moved to Los Angeles in 1996, and it wasn’t until 2001 that my 5-year plan came true, with hours to spare
Thursday, May 10, 2001
Karl here. I’m assured and confident that my decision to bolt from “The Glass Shack” (the office job I just quit) was the most financially responsible thing for me to do. I’m worth way too much on the market. It’s that simple.
The job and environment were limiting my options, and at 31 years of age I have proven I can survive this world. I’ll work, but I have to make the most of my talents. I’m excited that I get to do that now and directly engage the market I am savvy about. I have been hustling my experience to the studios and the like since 1998 in earnest. I can do this!
Since quitting my job, I’ve lined up an interview for today at 4 p.m. in Beverly Hills with a gay temp agency – they say so in Frontiers magazine. It’s part of their legend. Trust me, I know my audience. I play very well in Beverly Hills. They appreciate my look – they take it as a slightly risqué decadence on my part, which is fine with me, and I love Beverly Hills when they’re noticing you in their bubble. You get to be seen.
This temp agency did very well for Bebbles and I’m confident they’ll do the same for me too. My strategy is to go for temp agencies, even if I have to register in person and join one every day. It’s a strategy that’s never failed me. It’s going to take the summer to right my ship, straight up, and then I can [return to the Industry] in the fall. I had to reshuffle the deck and I’m confident I can do it. God is with me.
[Later that night….]
My interview at Shield & Associates was both disastrous and positive. Prior to getting to the agency, I picked up my last check at The Glass Shack on Wilshire Blvd. Hank, my now ex-boss, told me, “Good luck,” and I said, “Thanks.” No fanfare or insanity.
I got to Shield & Associates early and the interview – no typing or computer skills test – got off to a horribly flat and humorless start when I was honest about why I left my job three days ago. My honest answer? “The bosses were on drugs.” This was after much pressing, may I add.
Maximillian, the owner of the agency, a silver bear who looks like if Joe Eszterhas were raised in the Hamptons, kept leading me with indignant questions based on the fact that I quit, questions like “Don’t you need a job?” and “You don’t need to work?” It was a barrage. I kept an amused smile on my face, but finally I had to raise my voice and go, “I don’t know what you want me to say?” At that point, I’d gotten defensive.
Maximillian backed down as our interview progressed. He was the most verbally aggressive and invasive interview I’d ever had in the civilian world. I felt he was putting some value judgments on me that I didn’t quit appreciate.
Then, disastrously, the resume an ex-coworker had typed for me as a favor – that I hadn’t proofread – had so many typos it was mortifying. It was not a good thing.
Maximillian said he had no temp assignments available, but he does have an opening at a law firm that pays $23.56 an hour with no advancement, was I interested?
I said yes.
Maximillian questioned even that, “No advancement? That’s fine for you?”
All I could think was this was a wasted opportunity because of the dry back and forth between us. However, it was God who entered the situation because the rest was a positive progression. Maximillian asked me for a new resume and offered me the choice of either his typewriter or computer for the purpose, adding that he’d submit it to the law firm downtown.
He circled all the problems in the resume – cringe! – and said what he wanted changed and then asked, “Do you have to do anything tomorrow?”
I said, “No.”
He said, “Well, come on in here and take a typing test and fuck around on the computer. Do a tutorial, then test on Microsoft Word. I’ll be in the office at 9:30.” He also told me that to avoid stictly filing jobs, etc., that I need to have Word as a minimum computer skill. That’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow. I’m going to give him my flawless resume that I re-typed with zero errors and take the tutorial. I’ll do it until I get it right. It’s cool that he’s giving me a chance. At least he’s giving me a chance.
MAY 13, 2001, SUNDAY
I got a gig through Maximilian’s agency starting tomorrow in Beverly Hills as a receptionist. It’s a one-to-two-week assignment. I’m as cold as ice on the market – the old version of me is – and so I don’t need any auditions fucking me up. I’d have to flat-out refuse, or my rent would not be paid. I’m not concerned about it. Anyone who wants me to audition can just do it after 5 p.m. or pay me to lose my job.
I did all the training in Maximillian’s office and there was another guy there, an aspiring writer. Maximillian told him out loud, “I’m surprised to see that you were paid so little by Miramax.” Maximillian was telling us that the corporate environment and business owners are distrustful of actors and writers because anytime there’s fears of a SAG or WGA strike – which there is now – is when entertainers hit the market and are considered flaky. My corporate resume touches on none of my legitimate Hollywood work.
The gig I have is with a film finance company. I was thrilled to land an assignment just a few days after walking out the door on my last job. That was God steering me in the best direction possible. I’m free of the brick wall my last job had become and I’m going to go steadily higher.
I accepted the job the instant Maximillian made eye contact with me and said he wasn’t going to offer it to me because it only pays $14.82 an hour.
“You’ll do it?” he asked.
“ I sure will, “ I said. And that was that. I need to work; I don’t need a vacation.
For this assignment, I have to handle five phone lines and the husband-wife owners want detailed messages. I’m going to go for it and be that good. There’s no office traffic, strictly phones. My look is fine, hair color isn’t an issue this time around, thank God, and I’m on my way with God helping me have everything I need to get my dreams realized.
MAY 14, 2001, MONDAY (these journal portions were written on post-it notes inside my day planner on the Beverly Hills assignment)
It’s 11:48 and I’m at my temp assignment in Beverly Hills. It’s touch and go. The owner of the film finance company arrived first, her husband comes in later. She was very prickly right off the bat, taking me on a tour of the office and then into her husband’s office, turning the blinds a ¾ turn, saying, “My husband likes the sun to hit just like this in the morning when he’s reading his paper, so this is very important. I’m going to tell you how to answer the phone and how to answer each extension. And please don’t tell me that you understand if you don’t because I won’t like it if you ask me later.” She was like an older, sinister nanny in a very stuffy house.
I half expect to have my assignment ended. The husband-and-wife duo, the owners, their names are Milton and Colette look to be in their latest 50s or early ‘60s. Colette is very high-strung and, like most high-strung people, she’s had her little, minor freak-outs. She hasn’t gone off, of course, but I don’t put anything past her personality type. I’m trying and working.
I only lost one call, and he called right back. It’s a small office and I happen to know that the last receptionist walked off and never came back. Maximillian told me that “Colette is anal.”
It’s all in God’s hands, I can’t sweat this stuff! I got offered another potential weekend gig from Maximillian, so we’ll see.
THREE HOURS LATER
Things are getting a little tense. The most frequent caller to the switchboard is Colette and Milton’s son’s baby’s mama. The baby is crying and the mother/girlfriend sounds extremely impatient. I don’t judge, just tell her that the father isn’t in the office, then she asks to speak to Colette, who looks more and more embarrassed every time I tell her “Line 2,” like she knows it’s ghetto that she’s covering for her son who is, as of this writing, getting his hair cut by Christophe blocks away. I’d rather not be involved; I’m just supposed to sit here and answer the phones.
I was relieved for my lunch hour by Annika, their part-time worker, who is 17 years old. When Colette introduced me to Annika she said, “This is our temp for the day!” That was a bit crunchy, considering that I’m supposed to be the temp for the week; if Colette is ending my assignment early and fucking up my availability – the week has already started – then I will not be happy. Annika told me that Colette is 53-years old today. And I thought she was 59, especially when she said, apropos of nothing, “I’ve had housekeepers all of my life!”
Lunch in Beverly Hills was nice, and I did a lot of walking like I used to do back when I’d come in for meetings with my talent manager on Canon a few years ago, now my ex-talent manager. There’s still all of the face lifts and the guys trying to look like rappers – walking slow, cell phones, nice gear and not in any hurry. I passed the William Morris Agency on my way back. I was told at 4:30 p.m. that I’ve lost this assignment, just as I’d thought. Pretty fucked, but what are you going to do? It’s their family-owned business. God has a plan and I’ll follow it. Maximillian tried to clean it up, but Colette said I wasn’t fast enough (!!!!)
MAY 18, 2001, FRIDAY
A brisk, tiring and inspired week, including the false start thanks to the Beverly Hills harridan, but it’s $92 after taxes and I know it ended for a reason. Since then, I’ve combed all the classifieds, and I have two interviews set up for next week.
One of them is with Terrific Staffing, a temp agency, which bought out my former agency that got me a 10-month gig at P.R. Newswire a few years ago. The agency staffer, Lawrence, called me today; he’d done his detective work and found me in their database. All I need to do is reactivate next Friday and re-test. He was oddly flirtatious and sounded like the bookish but rowdy type that goes to after-hours weekend clubs on Wilshire Blvd., but it’s still a lead.
Bebbles is still looking hard for a job. We have no income except for his unemployment that pays just the basics. It’s scary when you look down, but then you must always remember that God knows every cent you’ll make.
MAY 25, 2001, FRIDAY
Of the two interviews, I didn’t get the first one, but my reactivation at Terrific went well. Lawrence wore glasses and was just like I thought! He was nice, let me take a second typing test. Like Maximillian, his interview with me – “What do you want to do?” – got to resemble a lover’s quarrel, only because I don’t like people putting words in my mouth when they have my resume and can read and can bloody well deduce what I can do without the cutesy patter. I handled that interview with charm and salt. I did 100% on my spelling, math and clerical tests. Lawrence said, “You must have taken this recently. No one’s done 100%.”
I said, “I haven’t taken that test in four years.”
As to the debate on what I could do, I said, “I can spell, do math. I’m smart.” We laughed and that broke the ice. That’s going to have to be my agency. They’re actor-friendly, Lawrence is an actor, and he was cheerful, saying: “We’re a creative agency.” I’ll do the Microsoft Office tests and many tutorials until I get a job. Lawrence is cool and he is going to be the one to help me get back on top of things. He will help me not only because he can, but because I’m going to raise my market value while we do it. I’ve had to completely start over and that’s all I can do. I’m trying to find peace and strength in my quieter moments. I’m frequently depressed because I’ve been nickeled and dimed to the n’th degree; I should be farther ahead because I’ve made plenty of people money and comfortable – millions alone at my last job – as a performer. That depresses me often, but I’ll be the Phoenix, and I can handle it.
MAY 27, 2001, SUNDAY
I awoke yesterday in depressed despair. The bills around every corner and no visible income to cover them all. Of course, that’s worldly thinking – man’s limitations – and I later came to the greater awareness that God will surprise me, and I must do my creative best while He does His work. My spirit was not sent to this Earth to sweat bills and other peoples’ bullshit when I could be doing strong work. Professionally, I’ll be doing two days’ worth of tutorials at the Terrific agency and Friday I’ll refill my headshots at my talent agency. I believe in myself, and I’ll make it. I know I can do it.
My spiritual growth is crucial to me now because the last 2 ½ years have been relentlessly educational and I am tired from stress and fear. I’m taking stock, knowing that I’m starting all over again and can do things differently now. I’m glad to be gone from that former rut of a job. I’m free to do things in a different way. The Spirit controls the mind.
MAY 28, 2001, MONDAY
Lorez Alexendria, the jazz singer I knew as Miss Lorez, passed away last week on May 22. She was a jazz singer who knew the Hollywood and New York of the 1940s and 1950s and beyond. She had a lot of stories, what it was like working those clubs with her band, how she’d have to stand up for them all; she took no shit and kept it incredibly real. I loved her. We had Thanksgiving together last year at my godmother’s house and played a rowdy game of dominos. It was great playing with her, she was very competitive in the best way and would call out people’s moves all while telling stories about the road or recording sessions. She liked to mess with me, it was great. If I was taking too long on my turn, she’d say, “You better throw them bones, Boy!” I was honored to know her.
FRIDAY, JUNE 1, 2001
I’m on San Vicente at a marketing firm doing a temp assignment for the next two days, which cool because I need the work and pay. I’ve only been registered with Terrific Staffing for a week. I had a disastrous Excel 7 test on Tuesday. I had some Microsoft programs I’d gotten for Bebbles that I studied for hours ,went back three days later, retook the test twice until I scored an 80, overall, which made me really proud of myself.
Josie, the owner and office manager – and a former television actress who looked a lot like Grace Slick in the White Rabbit era – was impressed by my test results. I showed her my four pages of notes and she asked if she could Xerox them for future candidates since I went from disastrous to 80 in two days.
She went hard on me prior to that. She was appalled with my Microsoft Suite scores and said that if I didn’t get proficient, fast, that, “You’re just going to be that hot guy that people hire to move their office furniture all day.” Not that there’s anything wrong with being a mover, but the way she said it made it sound like a voyeuristic nightmare. ”Oops, my chair fell over. Can you move it over there?” I could literally see it. She said I should come in every day and do tutorials until I pass everything which I did. On the last day, I was wearing a red dress shirt and olive-colored jeans. She said, “That’s not very professional.” I said, “I’m not on a job, I’m here in your office. I didn’t know there was a dress code to learn Microsoft Word.” She thought that was cheeky and agreed and we had a good laugh about it. I know she’s coming from the standpoint of a former actor and just being tough for a reason. When I gave her my notes to copy and told her I’d studied, she said, “I really appreciate it. I appreciate that effort. I’m proud of you.” I improved my words-per-minute by seven words, so I was happy. I got the call for this assignment at a marketing firm at 8:15 last night. It’s $18 an hour and I’m thankful to God for everything and for being on my way out of the gate.
[end]