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Friday, August 29, 2014

Friday, August 29, 2014

              My plane lands and I’m here. I’m a West Coaster. I have no return ticket. These bags and this guitar are literally the only things I have to call my own now. And for how long? Where am I going to sleep tonight? “We have an old intern, a guy named Jordan, he’s I think 22, and he has an apartment in the University District. It’s small, but right now it’s empty, because he’s out of state on business. He’s left you his key, so you can stay there until Tuesday.” My boss hands me an envelope. Inside is a key and a note:

              “Hello Stranger,
              Mi casa es su casa. Treat it as your own.
-          Sorry about the mess.
-          Eat/Drink any food, it will go bad otherwise.
  I’ll be back on the 3rd, will see if we can get ya some work.
              Jordan”

(He’s a production assistant – aka PA – which is the job I’ll have once I know something relevant to this industry). But his pad is cool. It’s situated in an old brick building in the University District, so there are countless students milling about at any given moment. The apartment is cozy; unlock the antique wooden door and you walk in to a small living room with large windows at the back. On your immediate left is a bathroom and on the right is a small bedroom, and at the back on the left is a door leading to a tiny kitchen. It’s perfect, I tell my boss as we drop my stuff.
              I’m whisked away again to get a bicycle, and then again to the office. The bosses don’t expect me to work, but I want to work. I’m here to work. And honestly, what else would I do besides work? They give me my own office key, and then we unlock the door and walk up a long flight of stairs. At the top is this industrially decorated open space with large skylights letting in lots of light and a male’s rendition of interior decorating. They have a good thing going: unfinished plywood floors, neutral gray tones in various shades on the walls, some sick couches that were featured in a commercial they shot, and this incredible vintage video camera from the 60’s. In the back corner is a fully equipped, all-purpose espresso cart, one that you’d see on a street corner, and a little kitchen area in need of some organization. The other back corner is an office, the one I’ll be using. Then in another corner is Brad’s office. Brad is one of my bosses, the producer. He’s got a big leather couch in front of his desk, and a huge ping pong table beyond that. Then Matt’s office is in the last corner, walled off with a door. Matt is the guy who gave me the job; he’s the director.
              I like my bosses. Matt is the son of Tom Skerritt, an actor who was in Top Gun, Alien, and a few others. He’s from LA, and he’s in his forties now, married with two daughters. Brad’s even better connected in the industry: they say he’s one of the most connected producers in Seattle, and at this moment he’s enjoying a weekend trip with his wife and their family friend Dave Matthews (yes, from the Dave Matthews band). He’s married to a costume and makeup artist who works closely with Russell Wilson, Macklemore, and the list goes on. He has a daughter and a son. I asked them what time they want me at work; they said around 9, although since then I’ve been getting to work at 9 and sometimes they’re not there until noon. I don’t have any other coworkers; it’s just the three of us at the office, because anyone else they pay to help them is freelance. Technically I am too, but I can’t afford to not be at the office to gain that experience.
              My first project is a suicide awareness video. My client is the wife of a top marketing executive at Microsoft and she runs Forefront, a non-profit that aims to teach people how to deal with depressed or suicidal individuals. We shoot in four days, so I’m busy making preparations for that. It’s fun – I love my job.

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