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He’s gone because of me — By Jack

I don’t look nearly that good.

I shaved my head today. I got about a third way through when my razor ran out of juice. There I was, partially bald, unable to leave my apartment for fear of ridicule. As I waited for razor to recharge, I contemplated my drastic action.

This isn’t me. I don’t do things like this. I don’t have any tattoos. I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. I’m buttoned down, business casual style with just a splash of dorky flair (a vest or ironic t-shirt.)

Maybe it’s that I turned 30 today. New city + no friends + no job – life accomplishments = instability? I knew that the move to Los Angeles would be hard. I didn’t expect to get here and on day one someone would hand me a writing job. But I thought I’d find something. It’s been 2 months and other than the one day of production work, I’ve had nothing to supplement my dwindling savings.

And I have tried. Hard. I’ve responded to virtually every Craigslist post. Mandy.com, ineed.com, mediamatch, entertainmentjobs. I’ve cold called the studio of every TV show and movie in development, preproduction, and in production to get the phone number of their production office. “We’re currently staffed, but you’re welcome to forward a resume to our email.” I’ve even applied to internships and some slightly sketch “music videos.” Nothing.

How low will I go?

Hell even Starbucks and the Gap aren’t responding. I went to Gap Inc.’s online application site. After filling out the usual resume crap, I had to do a second application which was a fucked up personality test.

6. Do you feel you’ve accomplished everything you’ve wanted up until this point in your life?
Strongly Agree — Some what Agree — Neutral — Some what Disagree — Strongly  Disagree

27. Do you ever get angry or frustrated at work?
Strongly Agree — Some what Agree — Neutral — Some what Disagree — Strongly  Disagree

97. Do you find it hard to maintain a cheerful and inspirational attitude in stressful
situations?
Strongly Agree — Some what Agree — Neutral — Some what Disagree — Strongly  Disagree

Yes, that was question 97. There were over a hundred of these types of questions. I’m going to be folding clothes not leading innocent children into a war scenario! Sure I get frustrated sometimes. No I haven’t accomplished everything so far. What the fuck do you want from me? An honest employee who is in touch with his feelings or someone who knows to give you the answers you want to hear? I did the latter.

And to top it all off, there was the inescapable realization that my hairline is receding. I used to keep my hear relatively long. Not Fabio long, but Josh Holloway (Sawyer from Lost) long. But I just don’t have the thick head of hair to support it. So I did the one thing I felt I could still control. I took my electric razor and went to town. Or rather a third of the town.

Eventually the apartment contemplation got to me and I dug out my only hat. Unfortunately it’s a beat up cowboy hat for my Gunslinger Halloween costume. But I had to get out. As I went on my walk and continued to contemplate I came across the cutest mouse on the sidewalk. I’m not one for cute critters, (that’s more Jill) but seriously this thing was adorable. I had to get a picture on my phone. But of course as I approached, the little guy scurried away…into the nearest intersection. The little guy got to the second lane before he met his end.

I just wanted a picture.

I walked into the nearest coffee shop and got a newspaper and got him out of the street.

Fuck. What a shitty birthday.

–Jack Out

 
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Posted by on October 23, 2012 in By Jack

 

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Wild Child Wings. — By Jill

It just doesn’t make sense.

There are essentially two places where the douche bags of Seattle hang out on Friday/Saturday nights. Belltown and Pioneer Square. Neither one under normal circumstance would I consider taking a job in. Except it’s not normal circumstances. My father wakes me up in the morning declaring “daylight’s a-burning, Jilly.” My mother enters my room randomly to find old dresses that she has decided now live in my closet.  And if I come home later than 10:30, the dog, Mordecai barks upon my entrance, waking the both parents up. I need to move out. And in order to do that, I need a job.

And that, my friends, is why I found myself standing outside Wild Child’s Wings in Pioneer Square. Mere blocks away from hobo-tent-ville on one side and the International District on the other (at least Pink Gorilla isn’t far.) I arrived for the job interview to see cops breaking up a knife fight. I figured I wouldn’t get the job. I don’t know how to bar tend. I lied on the Craigslist response.

Despite the rustic and dilapidated surroundings, the interior was surprisingly large well maintained. I expected a dive-y sports bar. The type with one pool table that either wasn’t level or the felt had been scratched to shit. Perhaps a jukebox that only played Johnny Cash next to the Deer Hunter Arcade game and a touch-screen gambling machine featuring black jack/bejewled knock offs at the far end of the bar top. But no. Wild Child Wings felt like a cross between a quaint English pub an Italian stone garden. On one floor it had leather couches, book shelves, and wooden barrels. Then in the basement cobblestones floor, a water fountain, and (fake) torch lighting. I simply couldn’t believe it. What a terrible name for such a beautiful awesome place!

The email instructions told me I’d be meeting Gus. I had expected a man in a wife beater with a hairy stomach sticking out, his remaining hair combed over his massive bald spot to await me. (Basically Mr. Panucci on Futurama.)

Who I expected Gus to be.

But Gus was actually a bearded, glasses wearing, matured hippy. Think, a tall lanky Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting. In some job interviews, they person gives you the feeling they’re testing you and if you say the wrong thing, BUZZ, wrong! and you’re done. Others follow some script handed down to them by their corporate overlords. You say anything that deviates from a Hallmark dictated professional answer and it’s over. But every once in a while you meet someone who makes you feel at home, like their friend. It’s not about answering right or even proving anything. They genuinely are interested in the experiences you’ve had and what they as a person might bring to the table. They don’t judge (or they do a great job of making you feel like they don’t.) They just share and ask you to, too.

I honestly couldn’t tell you the beginning, middle, and end of the interview. Before I knew it, Gus shook my hand, thanked me. I was leaving the incongruous heaven that was Wild Child Wings and I no idea how or why I had lied to him about 2 years of bar tending experience. I just knew I wanted the job.

 
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Posted by on October 16, 2012 in By Jill, Marty's Half Dozen, Restaurants

 

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