Two Weeks In

On Monday of my third week I was feeling good, and eager to hear if I could get some money now that my trial period was up. I didn't have much work to do during the day, so i sat around and waited for a chance to check in with D, the producer.

She didn't mention anything the whole day, and by the late afternoon I decided to ask her. I was a little unsure of how to broach the "i'm on the team and am i going to get compensated for this week" conversation, so I found a pause when the other video directors were out and got her attention.

"Are we going to be able to do a check-in today?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"About what you want from me here. I'm assuming we're going to move forward..."

I let the sentence hang. It was a weird moment. She said that she wanted to check in next Monday, which she had told me previously, and I'd misunderstood. Sorry, I said. I felt a little embarrassed.

At the end of the day she did speak with me though, and said they could pay me $400 per week for six weeks. Steady money, woohoo! I was a little worried about money so I was happy to take anything.

The next day I spoke with my property manager who gave me the low down on my tenant who'd been MIA since early October, and was two months past due on her rent. He ordered an official notice to quit, and then got an order of eviction, which threatens a court date unless she pays. She has two weeks to give an answer, or show up in court on December 4th. Then the judge will decide whether to evict. And apparently she can still work out a deal in court, and avoid eviction. What a long process.

Tuesday night I went with two video directors to film a birthday party in SoHo, for celebrity hairstylist Ursula Stephen. She's responsible for Rihanna's bangs, and charges tens of thousands for her work. The magazine was trying to score points with her by filming her party I guess. We showed up, set the camera up on the tripod and interviewed personalities as they came in. Many of them were radio people, but Free was there (y'all might remember the single 'Ladies Night' from way back with Missy, DaBrat, MC Lyte, or you might not) and Michelle Williams, the third member of Destiny's Child.

The party/shoot was fairly unexciting. I chatted with this dude who looked like Cedric the Entertainer in a velour blazer, who at the end of the night kept exclaiming, "you're Asian! You're Asian!" We got back to the office by 10:15, and I was glad to be done. I cut two short pieces from that evening with another director, you can view them here:

Afterwards I went to Gina's, to catch the very tail end of a potluck. We're trying to do one every week. I arrived close to 11pm, and ate eagerly. Jess was there, and we took a cab home. Gina's about a 25 minute walk from my place, but the weather was frigid.

The next week I cut together footage from a conference that the magazine hosts. On Wednesday night I went to a potluck with the same people, this time at another house in Cobble Hill. This was hosted by a married couple, in their late twenties, who lived in a walk-up (no elevator) on the fourth floor. They lived in a railroad style apartment, where all the rooms are right next to each other without a hallway, so it's like a long rectangle. The theme of the night was cranberries, and the food was delicious. I made cous cous with yams and cranberries, and jess made a salad with goat cheese. The hosting couple were Russian, and they served shots of vodka on a silver tray with small silver cups with ornate designs. I abstained from the heavy stuff. Dmitri seemed to love his vodka, and wanted to throw a party focused purely on the drink.

On Friday evening I saw an old friend from Diamond Bar. He joined the military and served a couple tours in Iraq, and is a staunch republican and fairly conservative. We've stayed in touch over the years and he called me to say he was in town. I met him near Penn Station, and we went to grab a bite of pizza. He talked about the political work he was doing (he had been the campaign manager for a man who was trying to run for a seat in the house of representatives) and now he works for a non-profit group that advocates for veterans. As we ate our pizza another patron in the restaurant got into a little bit of a yelling match with one of the workers. "How bout you never come back here?" the cook screamed. "I won't!" the man screamed back. Then he sat down and ate his pizza.

We grabbed a beer while he waited for his train and he spoke a bit about being in Iraq. He said a lot of different things, and by the end of it his hands were shaking a little. "I'm just talking out of my ass" he explained, embarrassed. I felt bad for him. I remember earlier he told me that veterans don't want to be seen as victims of an unjust war. He was proud of what he did. I had thought about enlisting in college, and the more I talk to people who've served, the more glad I am that I didn't. As he entered the gate to catch his train I gave him a hug goodbye, and he wished me a happy thanksgiving. I wished him a good one too.

Hours worked

My first paid week and I put in a lot of hours.

M: 9:30-7:00 - 9.5 hours
T: 9:30-10:00 - 12.5 hours
W: 9:30-9:30 - 12 hours
R: 10:00-6 - 8 hours
F: 9:30-7 - 9.5 hours

Total hours: 51.5

At $400 a week, that's a little under 8 dollars an hour. Phew. I am ready for the weekend.