Day 4 of unemployment.
Okay, okay, so technically I work at a tanning salon on 14th street for less than half of what I need to make for survival. Thank goodness PDF is here and that he can help me out. Half is better than nothing, that's for sure!
Still, it's really hard to work there, especially since PDF isn't the kind of boss that I get along with. I'm kind of afraid that our egos will clash and that this whole working-for-him experience will hurt our friendship. I know he understands....Sunday I had a Five Minute Cry in his office and his usual facade of queenish selfish impatience lifted for a moment while he talked it out with me. He knows I'm in a panic, and he knows what it's like to be there. He also lost touch with me during all the years I spent growing out of my teenage angst (and into mature twentysomething angst!), so I'm sure it freaked him out to see me upset. He gets it though, I know he does.
On his recommendation, I took today off from the leatherskins and NYU sorority girls to comb the Village and the Lower East Side for help wanted signs in the restaurants. Apparently they don't want any help in these neighborhoods. I did find a knitting store that's looking for sales help. My guess is that they won't be able to pay me any more than I'm making with PDF, but I would at least get to knit all day. Hmm.
My most interesting prospect was a craigslist ad I found for a foot messenger. I called the number and after a brief subway quiz (he asked all the right questions and I looked like a subway pro) I was told to show up at 23 West 19th street. Curious, I gave it a shot...I had resumes to drop in Manhattan anyway, so why not?
This dude was there and gave me an application, telling me to walk through a building, cross the street, and fill out the application in a pizza joint. A pizza joint? I walked through the building, as requested, then through a long hallway lined in marble. When I emerged on 18th street, I immediately saw the suggested pizza joint and fought through a long line to find a crumby though inviting table. It was a little disconcerting that nobody accused me of loitering (which I was), but I shrugged it off and took a look at the paperwork. I was transported back to high school when filling out that application...it was so strange. Why didn't they just request a resume? Why do all the table server jobs on craigslist ask for resumes and not for applications? Sometimes New York seems so backwards.
After calling 1-800-FREE-411 four times to make sure I had the phone numbers right for my last four jobs (there's something really laughable about writing $31K/ann. on a job application like this), I called the dude and met him on a nearby street corner to return the paperwork to him. We exchanged pleasantries for a moment, and he told me to call him back around 8:00 tonight. So weird!
I wonder if I could make a living as a messenger? Something tells me that even though there's not much money in temping, there's not much money in what I call "disposable jobs" either...and really it's just laughable that I even met up with this guy. I've got to find a film job.
And anyway, I am ready. I am ready to be an AD. It's going to happen. I've made my final decision, and I'm ready to commit, so consider this fair warning: here comes a life of long, thankless hours, very little social life, and, meanwhile, general misery. But dammit, I want to follow in the footsteps of Aunt J. And dammit, I'm going to make it happen, one way or another.
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I just heard about Fidel Castro giving up his claim to the Cuban presidency. Being that he gave his brother all his power about a year ago it's kind of anticlimactic, but the significance of it still resonates.
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