In 2005 I was living the high (mediocre) life in the city of Angels, L.A. working in this business we (they, or someone) called show. I wasn't just working in television, I was working in live television. And as if that wasn't enough of a chaotic setting for a great story for you, I also happened to be working for the first (yes, FIRST EVER) GLBTQ television network, appropriately called: Q Television Network with absolutely no experience.The details of how I found myself living in LA as a fresh college senior dropout from the tiny little hipster hotspot of Denton, TX will come later; because rest assured, I had no lifelong desire to work in production. I was a poetry major after all.
On this particular sunny day I'm sitting in my office, with my staff (yes, at 23 I had a STAFF! Small, but still...) when I receive an email on my Sidekick. The sender was Jon, a new friend I'd made who worked in acquisitions. The subject was: Mini Kiss just ate the last bagel. The body said simply: Dude, come on.
I hit reply and said simply: I think we can take them. On my way.
I rolled up to his office to collect him. His office just happened to be located adjacent to the Control Room (where all the switching, direction, producers, etc. sit for live television). He heard a PA (Production Assistant: AKA lowest of the low, bitch boys and girls, the people who actually do all of the work on set) announce into the walkie that Mini Kiss was in crafty, and that someone needed to make a bagel run.
We strolled onto set. No one on the live crew really knew what we did. They just knew we were the "Executive" side and assumed it probably had something to do with their paychecks. It didn't. At least Jon knew what he was doing. I was a hack on a ride. For the most part though I went unchecked by the veteran television producers and crew members, if for no other reason than they didn't want to have to teach me anything.
Mini Kiss had apparently indicated that photos would not be offered to anyone. Jon and I were not privy to this information. We started chatting them up, laughing with (not at, ok, sort of) them. I pulled out my ringing Sidekick (after all I'd been out of my office for roughly half an hour and I still hadn't given my staff any direction for the day) to answer it and Mini Gene says, "Oh shit, why the fuck not? Come on, get together we'll take a photo".
After all that hard work I'm sure I rewarded myself with several margaritas at an early lunch and probably left around 5 to beat Warner Bros. lot traffic.
Total hours at the studio 7 (minus 2 for lunch of course)
This was my second week in LA.
Best. Job. Ever.
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