fucked.” The words drool out of my mouth with
a gloomy gloom. “Fuck’n sucks man.” Sean,
my friend and roommate, says. Flump. The bartender
sets a beer in
front of me. “On the house,” she says.
No one ever gave me a beer on the house before. I suppose
The guy at the end of the bar asks why I get the
free beer. He missed the short version of the
sad story I gave to
the bartender. So I give him the long one.
months earlier my college buddies (Sean and Todd),
myself and this guy, Phil, made the 34 hour drive from
the heartland of Illinois and into the heart of Los
Angeles. Four would-be film makers excited to get their
jump on the industry. We didn’t have things like
connections, experience, jobs, or money, but we did
have something important… we had credit cards.
Everyone but me had credit cards. Either way, we were
determined to become recognized and make it big.
weeks later, I was unemployed and confused why no one
had called back about the resumes I had sent out. Todd
and Sean both settled for unpaid internships, but not
me. While they were answering phones,
getting producers coffee and
scripts around town, I was in my pajamas eating
cereal on the couch watching VH1’s “Where
are They Now”. I was holding out for a paid gig.
day I was driving in the valley, with the horrible thought
that I’d have to start waiting tables, when I got
a call on my cell phone. It was a producer! She was making
an “important film” and was looking for a “quick
learner and high achiever” (those words were printed
on MY resume!) to be her personal assistant. She asks
if we could meet for breakfast. I told her that I’d
have to check my schedule, pretending like I was really
busy, but I told her it would probably be fine.
there I was in my best (only) suit with a cup of coffee
in front of me when a 30 something T-shirt and blue jeans
wearing Bonnie sat down opposite me. “You must
be John,” she says. “Yeah, how did you know?” I
say. “You’re the only one wearing a suit”,
cut to the chase. She was producing an independent film
The Big ‘O’, a documentary following
three women in search of their orgasms. “Are you
interested?” Hmmmmm, I wanted to do more Hollywood
feature film stuff, but I was broke and needed a job. “How
much can you pay?” I ask. “I can’t pay
you, but I can give you a copy of the film when it’s
completed.” Hmmmmm, not really a Hollywood feature
film and she can’t pay me. That didn’t sound
too good, but maybe I’d just have to face the fact
that everyone has to start out at the bottom.