...It all started when I worked as a waitress in LA right after graduation (whilst nannying on the side- and don’t ask how I got that job considering kids and I get along about as well as a tranny hooker gets along with the NYPD), then I moved to London and worked for an eye-glasses designer. I was promptly laid off and ended up working for a crazy-ass Chinese guy in South London as an internal recruiter for a telecommunications company. And I’m not exaggerating. Homeboy was batshit. I think he was in the running for the Chinese equivalent of “American Idol” (you’re welcome for this): http://www.angelfire.com/pop2/stevenpun/home.html. And I’m not a scientist or anything, but that company was fo sho set up as some sort of shotty pyramid scheme. Then, after my London town adventure, I (along with my empty wallet) moved in with my pops for 5 months while working at a fancy seafood restaurant until I scored my first REAL job. I worked for a Marketing Research company in Chicago- I was flown out to interview and everything. When they offered me $52,000/year and my own BlackBerry and laptop I knew I had made it. I was officially upper-class (in my mind) and I intended to live that way. I lived in the Gold Coast- the poshest neighborhood I could find- and rented a studio apartment. At 23, I was obviously tripping all over myself and had actual bruising from incessantly patting myself on the back… until I was laid off. Again.
THEN I moved back to LA and decided to pursue my passion for the art world. I took an unpaid internship (while cashing in my unemployment benefits) as a marketing assistant to a failing photographer. He called his work “abstract photography” but really it was just sad. After that I landed what I thought was my “dream job.” I suppose a nightmare is a form of a dream. I worked as an assistant to the owner of a high end art gallery on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. They sold works from Rembrandt, Picasso, Dali, Renoir, Monet, etc. In other words, the gallery was expensive, elitist, and pretentious. Right up my alley. Except the pay was awful, the hours were unbearable, I was constantly sexually harassed (which I used to take as a compliment prior to this place), and no vacation. And I think we all know the best part of a job is the vacation days. If that wasn’t bad enough, the owners are a 70-year old couple who are truly deplorable, disgusting people. Michael, the owner and my boss is one of the nastiest sons-of-bitches I’ve ever encountered. I’ll never forget my first week on the job- Michael asked me to transcribe a letter he had written on the back of a dirty menu from a restaurant (you know- for his “creative writing class”. My bowel movements demand more creativity than anything this guy spewed). When I went to turn it in to him, Michael pointed out that I had spelled ‘and’ as ‘adn’- clearly a typo. I made the mistake of thinking this minor error could be brushed aside. I was wrong.
He slowly looked up at me with his red veiny eyes and asked me the following question:
“Are you dyslexic?”
Me: (nervous laugh) “No, that was a typo. My apologies.”
Michael: “Are you sure you’re not dyslexic?” (Pause)
Me: “Yes, I am 100% certain I am not dyslexic.”
Michael: “Well- would you consider yourself to be an intelligent person?”
BAM. Yes, he was serious. What a prince. Needless to say, the atmosphere in that place was less than ideal. My friends in H.R. would refer to it as a “hostile work environment”. I had the pleasure of quitting that dungeon last month. Now here I am in my own little cubicle. I still have violent thoughts about that place, but they are diminishing with each passing week. I like my new job- job #9 if you will. The work is pleasant for the most part, we have floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the LA hills. It’s nice. I’ve been here 20 days, I get 2 weeks vacation, 5 sick days, normal Holidays off, and (my fav) 1 personal day. But who’s counting? Whew- It is exhausting just to think about all of my previous places of (entrapment) employment. I need a cocktail. Happy Friday! I think I'll have a cocktial for each job I've had.
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