We lived in a blow up mattress on my mother-in-law's living room for the next 15 months. She was very generous to let us stay there and the kids lived in Cathy's old room when she was young. When I think back on it, it is hard to believe that for roughly 500 days and nights, we blew that mattress up and in the morning, deflated it, rolled it up and put it away. It is interesting though that with all of our possessions stripped away, when all we had was each other, we were happy. Don't get me wrong, it sucked to live this way but it was healing to not have the weight of debt and responsibility hanging over our heads.
In September of 2000, I went back to work for a high-end restaurant company I had worked for previously and was soon the Cellar-master or Sommelier of an award-winning wine list. That was a fun job, but I wanted to return to my normal role as GM or "big dog" and in June of 2001, I took over at a well-known restaurant that had recently been rocked by a scandal. The people who owned this restaurant were genuine and honest people who I am honored to have aided in a difficult time. They still remain the best employers I have ever had. The husband and I were very different in style, but he has an uncommon knack for knowing what works with the common man. It would be an unwise thing to not pay attention to what he thought would work. The wife (and CFO) was a fairly brilliant business-person who was in the business because she was married to the person who had owned it. It was not her passion, but she was very good at it. She is now a successful Real Estate broker and as far as I can tell, very happy about it. Her trust in me carried me through and allowed me to remember who I am. They are great people and I will forever be in their debt for allowing me to run their operation for two years.
Shortly after the summer ended, I came to work and the host told me the bartender called to ask if we were open that day. I asked why we would not be open and she said because of a plane accident in New York. I told her that was ridiculous and to tell him to get his ass to work. Then I turned on the TV.
It is hard for us to remember or for people who don't remember to comprehend the abject fear with which September 11 gripped us. We didn't know what was going on. We didn't know how many planes had been hijacked. As I turned on the news and saw that two jets had crashed into the World Trade Center, that one had crashed into the Pentagon, that one had crashed in Pennsylvania, we didn't know how many were out there. As the day drew on, some restaurants did close. We did not and we were busy that day as people came out to talk with others, to see other Americans and to discuss what just happened. The more than 3000 people who actually died in those heinous attacks actually pale in comparison to what could have happened. Fifty Thousand people worked at the Twin Towers, the toll could have been so much worse. Of course, later in the day, our fear turned to anger. Within 6 weeks of that day, America would launch an invasion which to this day has our troops in war.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Part 84
I have to say, never open a business on a credit card. I had no capital to start this business. I borrowed everything other than $10,000 invested from some family members. It is amazing I was able to continue as long as I did. One would think I would know better as I would have advised anyone who asked to never do what I did. But, I was different right? The basic rules of business do not apply, because I am special right? Wrong.
In July of 1999, I took on a few more investors. They were friends of my mother-in-law, very nice people. I lost their money. In November, I could not pay my rent and in the middle of the night, I moved to another location that did not have a drive through. Yeah, I was that guy and I still hate it. The new location lost most of our guests and half of my staff. I began working even more.
In the middle of December I woke up with a bad stomach ache and began vomiting. My wife thought I was being a big baby and told me so. I still get to use it against her that I actually had acute appendicitis. I had surgery later that day and had to close the coffee house during the week of Christmas as I had a few surgical issues and was in recovery for the time. When we re-opened at the beginning of the year with only 3 staff members, we had almost no customers. The few we had were great and came multiple times per day, but it wasn't enough. Within a few weeks, I worked from open to close every day but Sunday when I would head in after church.
We did not enjoy the church we attended but it was the best we could come by at the moment. Our son hated going to church and we couldn't leave him in the nursery, he was quite a crier. Of course, he was only 3 so I can't really complain. So, during this time I almost never saw my family and was steadily losing the ability to just function. At one point I could not afford the phone bill at the coffee house and had to let them shut it off. My wife was at home taking phone calls from creditors and I was at work from 5am until 11pm, alone, with no means of communication. It was one of the most stressful times in our life and taught us so much about ourselves, what we value and it completely humbled me. I will never again believe that I can make things happen with sheer willpower, with the force of my personality. I don't regret it but I would never want to do it again, nor would I wish that level of stress on anyone else.
In June of 2000, we lost the business, lost our house, lost many of our possessions and began the process of declaring bankruptcy. I had an opportunity to be an assistant casting director for commercials, but an actor's strike had just begun so we went back to San Jose to stay with my mother-in-law and wait out the strike. We thought we might move back up to LA, but ended up never moving back from San Jose.
In July of 1999, I took on a few more investors. They were friends of my mother-in-law, very nice people. I lost their money. In November, I could not pay my rent and in the middle of the night, I moved to another location that did not have a drive through. Yeah, I was that guy and I still hate it. The new location lost most of our guests and half of my staff. I began working even more.
In the middle of December I woke up with a bad stomach ache and began vomiting. My wife thought I was being a big baby and told me so. I still get to use it against her that I actually had acute appendicitis. I had surgery later that day and had to close the coffee house during the week of Christmas as I had a few surgical issues and was in recovery for the time. When we re-opened at the beginning of the year with only 3 staff members, we had almost no customers. The few we had were great and came multiple times per day, but it wasn't enough. Within a few weeks, I worked from open to close every day but Sunday when I would head in after church.
We did not enjoy the church we attended but it was the best we could come by at the moment. Our son hated going to church and we couldn't leave him in the nursery, he was quite a crier. Of course, he was only 3 so I can't really complain. So, during this time I almost never saw my family and was steadily losing the ability to just function. At one point I could not afford the phone bill at the coffee house and had to let them shut it off. My wife was at home taking phone calls from creditors and I was at work from 5am until 11pm, alone, with no means of communication. It was one of the most stressful times in our life and taught us so much about ourselves, what we value and it completely humbled me. I will never again believe that I can make things happen with sheer willpower, with the force of my personality. I don't regret it but I would never want to do it again, nor would I wish that level of stress on anyone else.
In June of 2000, we lost the business, lost our house, lost many of our possessions and began the process of declaring bankruptcy. I had an opportunity to be an assistant casting director for commercials, but an actor's strike had just begun so we went back to San Jose to stay with my mother-in-law and wait out the strike. We thought we might move back up to LA, but ended up never moving back from San Jose.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Part 83
My family is known for boys. My dad comes from a whole litter of boys, as does his dad. I told my wife when I married her to get ready for boys, because we were incapable of siring girls. So imagine our wonderful surprise in September of 1998 to find ourselves the proud parents of a baby girl! She was, and is, a very beautiful, smart and funny girl with a great disposition. However, we have since this time worried every time I am out of work that we will get pregnant again. It was only twice, but still...
I like to call this time my interview time. I still didn't know that I was getting bad-mouthed all over town (found that out a few months later) and blamed for all sorts of things other people were doing. I had saved up some money form our stunningly low income and was collecting unemployment. The settlement from my former employer came at the right time and I was writing business plans for restaurants trying to get something going on my own. The problem with this was that the capital needed to open a restaurant was exceedingly high. So in early 1999, I changed gears. I decided to open a coffee house and with an initial investment from my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law, I began searching for a site for my new place. In March, I leased a former Taco Bell in Cypress CA and began changing it into a coffee house. I hired far too many opening employees and opened only the third drive-thru coffee house in Orange County on May 3rd 1999. I expected the drive thru to account for roughly 30% of my business, but it accounted for 85%. That was good news, but the inside was lonely and boring. The bad news was that I also estimated that more than 50% of our drinks would be specialty drinks, but more than 70% of our sales were coffee at less than $2.
On top of not particularly great sales, the county came down on me pretty hard for my theory that I wasn't serving food and so I didn't need a health permit. They hit me with huge fees in every area they could find. I ended up making it right with them by being up front and playing the village idiot. The truth is that I had worked too long in a club environment, around shady characters and I needed to get my ethics back. This is hard for me to write because I am so opposed to this theory now, but I was soul-less in my business prior to July 1998 and it took a short time to right the ship of my ethical stance. At the time, I thought ethics had nothing to do with business, I believed in practicality alone. I am very far on the other side now, I believe ethics is about the only thing that matters in business or life. But at the time, I had it backwards and sometimes I had to pay for that.
In June, I finally responded to Paul's letter. I think my response was about 5 pages, but I avoided being defensive and tried hard to admit my failure. I told him I understood that I had treated him poorly and that our friendship was broken and not worthy of repair, but if he wanted, we could build a new friendship based on mutual respect and dignity. I am pleased to tell you that he responded favorably, and though there were occasionally some hiccups, we have remained friends for the last 13 years. We are not as close as we once were, but I think that has more to do with distance and life than with anything else. He occasionally responds to these posts and has called me when I write something painful. I appreciate the friendship we have now and am still sorry for the horrible friend I was. That friendship that was broken and destroyed, taught me some things about myself and keeps me questioning how I interact with others still. It is very much a reminder that I am not perfect and often, in spite of myself, do the wrong thing to people. If I do the wrong thing, and I like me, how can I get too angry with others when they do the wrong thing with me.
Don't get me wrong, I still get angry....I just recognize my hypocrisy, and oddly, I am grateful for that.
I like to call this time my interview time. I still didn't know that I was getting bad-mouthed all over town (found that out a few months later) and blamed for all sorts of things other people were doing. I had saved up some money form our stunningly low income and was collecting unemployment. The settlement from my former employer came at the right time and I was writing business plans for restaurants trying to get something going on my own. The problem with this was that the capital needed to open a restaurant was exceedingly high. So in early 1999, I changed gears. I decided to open a coffee house and with an initial investment from my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law, I began searching for a site for my new place. In March, I leased a former Taco Bell in Cypress CA and began changing it into a coffee house. I hired far too many opening employees and opened only the third drive-thru coffee house in Orange County on May 3rd 1999. I expected the drive thru to account for roughly 30% of my business, but it accounted for 85%. That was good news, but the inside was lonely and boring. The bad news was that I also estimated that more than 50% of our drinks would be specialty drinks, but more than 70% of our sales were coffee at less than $2.
On top of not particularly great sales, the county came down on me pretty hard for my theory that I wasn't serving food and so I didn't need a health permit. They hit me with huge fees in every area they could find. I ended up making it right with them by being up front and playing the village idiot. The truth is that I had worked too long in a club environment, around shady characters and I needed to get my ethics back. This is hard for me to write because I am so opposed to this theory now, but I was soul-less in my business prior to July 1998 and it took a short time to right the ship of my ethical stance. At the time, I thought ethics had nothing to do with business, I believed in practicality alone. I am very far on the other side now, I believe ethics is about the only thing that matters in business or life. But at the time, I had it backwards and sometimes I had to pay for that.
In June, I finally responded to Paul's letter. I think my response was about 5 pages, but I avoided being defensive and tried hard to admit my failure. I told him I understood that I had treated him poorly and that our friendship was broken and not worthy of repair, but if he wanted, we could build a new friendship based on mutual respect and dignity. I am pleased to tell you that he responded favorably, and though there were occasionally some hiccups, we have remained friends for the last 13 years. We are not as close as we once were, but I think that has more to do with distance and life than with anything else. He occasionally responds to these posts and has called me when I write something painful. I appreciate the friendship we have now and am still sorry for the horrible friend I was. That friendship that was broken and destroyed, taught me some things about myself and keeps me questioning how I interact with others still. It is very much a reminder that I am not perfect and often, in spite of myself, do the wrong thing to people. If I do the wrong thing, and I like me, how can I get too angry with others when they do the wrong thing with me.
Don't get me wrong, I still get angry....I just recognize my hypocrisy, and oddly, I am grateful for that.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Part 82
1998 was another year at the club. Though our event sales were growing, so was my distaste for just about everything associated with the club, including myself. I didn't realize it but I had already lost my staff. As someone who has always prided himself on his leadership abilities, it says something that the entire staff disliked me. My friendship with Paul was taking a hit and the close daily interaction was unfortunately revealing that I had issues with Paul that I was not dealing with. This all came to a head later during the summer, but first there were some good things going on.
We did two great parties in the first half of 1998. The first was a benefit for the Aids Relief Fund for Hair Professionals during the Long Beach Hair show which raised $87,000 for people who could not work in their field (hair) due to Aids or Aids-related issues. I have rarely felt better about working for a cause than I did on this party and it went off very well. All of our partners, all of our staff, and all of the organization, celebrities and all others did a great job putting this together. The transformation of the club into a formal ballroom was pretty impressive and helped us to sell the second big party. That party was during an electronics convention and was a $117,000 party which soon after would cause me huge problems with the corporation for whom I worked. The party went well and our net profit for the day was over $40,000. That is a pretty big number, but apparently it wasn't big enough.
After the party had ended, I received a call from my boss asking what I was going to do with the gratuity from the event. It was more than $20,000, and I told him that I was going to disburse it. To my surprise, he asked me why and I told him that the staff had worked hard all year and this was their reward. He asked where the company's reward was, so I gave him a pro forma (breakdown)showing the sizable profit the company was making for the day. He made me send him a sheet detailing every person's pay out from the gratuity, so I did. He then systematically cut every single person's tip except mine. I would like to think that he just thought the worst of me and was giving me more so I wouldn't raise a stink, but I think what he was really doing was sowing dissent with the staff. If I made a lot and everyone else did not, they would turn on me (and they did). In the end, the company kept $7000 of the gratuity. My wife was pregnant with our second child, so I was in no position to give back anything they weren't willing to take from me. Within two weeks, one of my employees called the company to claim I was doing something wrong.
The complaint was based on ignorance and fueled by my poor treatment and lack of trust for my staff. The complaint was that I was stealing door charge money. The fact was that I had an agreement with the President and VP of operations which allowed me to take a portion of the door money to pay back expenses I had used to build both the live music and the event business. Due to the fact that it showed the company having very little faith in my plan, I did not talk with the staff about my arrangement. To be honest, it wasn't any of their business, but the lack of transparency set me up to look like a bad guy and my boss used it to the fullest.
I had three conference calls per week at the job. I had to dial in from the Sprint phone at work and they were always scheduled at 1pm eastern, which was 10am pacific. Additionally, the company had a stated lack of trust in anyone to close the restaurant other than myself, so most nights, I got home between 3:30am and 5am. I worked a minimum of 6 days a week and was at the club on average 100 hours per week. I was tired, depressed, frustrated and demoralized. On June 30th, this came to a head on a conference call. The VP who usually ran the call was out and my boss (regional manager) was leading the call. It was a call that had absolutely nothing to do with my club. It was an hour long, mandatory call about features which my club did not have. Every time they came around to me in the round robin discussion, all I had to say was, "We don't have this in Long Beach." After about thirty minutes of this, my boss took another call and told us all to wait on the line. After 15 minutes of waiting, I hung up. 5 minutes later, I received a call from my boss asking if I just hung up on him (which I found to be ridiculous). I told him that since I had no input, I chose the least interrupting moment to withdraw from the conversation. Like a child, he hung up on me.
The next morning was my one day off. I received a call that Dave (my boss) was at the club and wanted to see me. This wasn't good and I knew it. I went to the club and Paul was upstairs, I asked if it was just me or were they closing down the club and he said he didn't know what I was talking about and Dave was in my office. Dave and I began to talk. His first shot was about the phone, it wasn't a reasonable shot so it passed quickly, I was right about not being needed on the phone. His next shot was about door charges, I reiterated that he knew I had an agreement to get back the expenses from live music equipment and event costs, he just said, "Really? Do you have that in writing?" He smiled a pretty evil little smile. Dave thought he was the king in this conversation, but to be honest whether he fired me or I quit, I knew I wasn't leaving the room with a job. His next hit was asking if I was calling him names or talking about him to the staff. I told him this was just silly, that yes I thought he was an asshole but I doubted I had shared that with a staff with whom I was not that close. That was when he said they would be separating me that day. To not leave the staff without equipment, I said I would pick up that for which I had not been reimbursed after the weekend. I later found out that the company dismantled my system and sent it to multiple clubs so I would never get it back. I later settled with the company for a portion of what they owed me (small claims limits kept it to about 1/5 of what was owed).
So, in July of 1998, I was jobless. I was also mentally, emotionally and spiritually bankrupt and uncertain of what I would do next. I had never had a second interview for which I was not hired, but in the next three months, I made it to 14 second interviews and the trail would go cold afterward. It turns out calling your boss an asshole, when he is really a Machiavellian prick, can hurt you. Dave went out of his way to try to ensure my suffering and to show how powerful he was. For a short while, it worked, but not for long. In the next month I made a threat against Paul when I talked to another manager one day. I felt he had personally betrayed me. I still don't know if he did and it doesn't really matter. Even if he had, I could blame it on no one but myself. I treated him so poorly, I can not really blame him for anything. Shortly after that threat, I received a 7 page nasty letter from Paul that was full of accusations and hatred. To say that the place had a negative effect on both of us is such an understatement. It took me almost a year to respond, but I needed the time to get my head on straight. My son, who wasn't quite two, fell down and broke his arm around the time I received the letter. My wife was just about to pop out our second child and I just didn't have it in me to care. I think somewhere inside, I knew it was at least 50% my fault that this relationship had soured (if not more)and I had just decided to let it go. I had a few old friends (Joe and Rob) who called to try to make me see the light, as it were, but I just had no interest and decided to go on with life.
We did two great parties in the first half of 1998. The first was a benefit for the Aids Relief Fund for Hair Professionals during the Long Beach Hair show which raised $87,000 for people who could not work in their field (hair) due to Aids or Aids-related issues. I have rarely felt better about working for a cause than I did on this party and it went off very well. All of our partners, all of our staff, and all of the organization, celebrities and all others did a great job putting this together. The transformation of the club into a formal ballroom was pretty impressive and helped us to sell the second big party. That party was during an electronics convention and was a $117,000 party which soon after would cause me huge problems with the corporation for whom I worked. The party went well and our net profit for the day was over $40,000. That is a pretty big number, but apparently it wasn't big enough.
After the party had ended, I received a call from my boss asking what I was going to do with the gratuity from the event. It was more than $20,000, and I told him that I was going to disburse it. To my surprise, he asked me why and I told him that the staff had worked hard all year and this was their reward. He asked where the company's reward was, so I gave him a pro forma (breakdown)showing the sizable profit the company was making for the day. He made me send him a sheet detailing every person's pay out from the gratuity, so I did. He then systematically cut every single person's tip except mine. I would like to think that he just thought the worst of me and was giving me more so I wouldn't raise a stink, but I think what he was really doing was sowing dissent with the staff. If I made a lot and everyone else did not, they would turn on me (and they did). In the end, the company kept $7000 of the gratuity. My wife was pregnant with our second child, so I was in no position to give back anything they weren't willing to take from me. Within two weeks, one of my employees called the company to claim I was doing something wrong.
The complaint was based on ignorance and fueled by my poor treatment and lack of trust for my staff. The complaint was that I was stealing door charge money. The fact was that I had an agreement with the President and VP of operations which allowed me to take a portion of the door money to pay back expenses I had used to build both the live music and the event business. Due to the fact that it showed the company having very little faith in my plan, I did not talk with the staff about my arrangement. To be honest, it wasn't any of their business, but the lack of transparency set me up to look like a bad guy and my boss used it to the fullest.
I had three conference calls per week at the job. I had to dial in from the Sprint phone at work and they were always scheduled at 1pm eastern, which was 10am pacific. Additionally, the company had a stated lack of trust in anyone to close the restaurant other than myself, so most nights, I got home between 3:30am and 5am. I worked a minimum of 6 days a week and was at the club on average 100 hours per week. I was tired, depressed, frustrated and demoralized. On June 30th, this came to a head on a conference call. The VP who usually ran the call was out and my boss (regional manager) was leading the call. It was a call that had absolutely nothing to do with my club. It was an hour long, mandatory call about features which my club did not have. Every time they came around to me in the round robin discussion, all I had to say was, "We don't have this in Long Beach." After about thirty minutes of this, my boss took another call and told us all to wait on the line. After 15 minutes of waiting, I hung up. 5 minutes later, I received a call from my boss asking if I just hung up on him (which I found to be ridiculous). I told him that since I had no input, I chose the least interrupting moment to withdraw from the conversation. Like a child, he hung up on me.
The next morning was my one day off. I received a call that Dave (my boss) was at the club and wanted to see me. This wasn't good and I knew it. I went to the club and Paul was upstairs, I asked if it was just me or were they closing down the club and he said he didn't know what I was talking about and Dave was in my office. Dave and I began to talk. His first shot was about the phone, it wasn't a reasonable shot so it passed quickly, I was right about not being needed on the phone. His next shot was about door charges, I reiterated that he knew I had an agreement to get back the expenses from live music equipment and event costs, he just said, "Really? Do you have that in writing?" He smiled a pretty evil little smile. Dave thought he was the king in this conversation, but to be honest whether he fired me or I quit, I knew I wasn't leaving the room with a job. His next hit was asking if I was calling him names or talking about him to the staff. I told him this was just silly, that yes I thought he was an asshole but I doubted I had shared that with a staff with whom I was not that close. That was when he said they would be separating me that day. To not leave the staff without equipment, I said I would pick up that for which I had not been reimbursed after the weekend. I later found out that the company dismantled my system and sent it to multiple clubs so I would never get it back. I later settled with the company for a portion of what they owed me (small claims limits kept it to about 1/5 of what was owed).
So, in July of 1998, I was jobless. I was also mentally, emotionally and spiritually bankrupt and uncertain of what I would do next. I had never had a second interview for which I was not hired, but in the next three months, I made it to 14 second interviews and the trail would go cold afterward. It turns out calling your boss an asshole, when he is really a Machiavellian prick, can hurt you. Dave went out of his way to try to ensure my suffering and to show how powerful he was. For a short while, it worked, but not for long. In the next month I made a threat against Paul when I talked to another manager one day. I felt he had personally betrayed me. I still don't know if he did and it doesn't really matter. Even if he had, I could blame it on no one but myself. I treated him so poorly, I can not really blame him for anything. Shortly after that threat, I received a 7 page nasty letter from Paul that was full of accusations and hatred. To say that the place had a negative effect on both of us is such an understatement. It took me almost a year to respond, but I needed the time to get my head on straight. My son, who wasn't quite two, fell down and broke his arm around the time I received the letter. My wife was just about to pop out our second child and I just didn't have it in me to care. I think somewhere inside, I knew it was at least 50% my fault that this relationship had soured (if not more)and I had just decided to let it go. I had a few old friends (Joe and Rob) who called to try to make me see the light, as it were, but I just had no interest and decided to go on with life.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Part 81, no joke!
On January 1st, 1997, Cathy and Zach and I moved to a little house one block from the beach in Long Beach CA. The area we lived in was fantastic, not that I would know as I spent every waking hour at the job. I swear I could not be more blessed that my son was not old enough to realize that he had an absentee father. At this point, work was generally not going well. Though the club had the same level of seediness which pervades all night clubs, this was my first club that did not have the added benefit of being about anything other than that icky seediness. There really was nothing good about the club, no real sales, no leadership from the company, a really crappy staff, roaches (yes indeed, it was disgusting) and a rebellious nature in the staff. They hated me for having a hand in firing their friend, my predecessor and I didn't help things because I disliked them almost as much as they disliked me.
In late January, I terminated our event sales manager, adding to some people's feeling that I was a megalomaniac. It did not help that I hired one the least friendly people I have ever met. I also hired a drunken fool and mentally unstable man as my assistant. He quit one night after I had to come back to his crying in a corner about nothing in particular. During the summer of 1997, I was called in to inform me that our safe had been emptied. The company refused to investigate because it would increase our insurance premiums, but there was some thought amongst the higher-ups that I had some part in it. For the record, I did not. I wanted the investigation just to clear my name, but the company refused and I began looking for another job. I was, in fact, offered a job as a GM of a local Brewery and restaurant in August, but I was tricked into believing that the company would finally let me get away from the night club biz and get into real event sales. I saw this as a real positive for the company and they seemed to agree. To motivate me, the company told me that if I spent my own money to increase business, I could refund that money from door charges and tips from events. The business had only ever done $45,000 annually in events and I saw a much bigger potential, some of which we were already seeing. By the end of 1997, we had built event sales to $455,000. The next year, through the efforts of an old friend, we were slated to do $750,000+. During this time, I really lost my way, my ethics, my soul.
In the fall of 1997, my old friend Paul called me. He was looking to learn about event sales, and knew that I had a lot of experience in it. He asked if he could learn from me and, instead, I offered him the vacant position of Event Sales Manager. He asked for help learning, and I put him in charge of all of our sales. While I write this, that seems so ridiculous, but he was really good at it and it turned out in most ways to be the best decision I made while at the club. I didn't know it at the time, but in retrospect, I had ulterior motives. Paul, like most of my friends from my early Christian experience, was someone who I didn't think thought very highly of me. This was the person I called my best friend, and the best man in my wedding, but was someone whose motives and judgments I distrusted greatly. To me, hiring Paul was a good decision for business reasons (I knew he would be good at it for many qualities that he naturally has), but I would not be honest if I did not admit that I wanted him to value me. I think somewhere in my addled brain, I believed that I could prove my worth to him if he worked for me and could somehow control his perception through the context of the new work relationship. One can see from just this paragraph that my perception was skewed, he had called me to ask me for help in learning something and I still believed he did not value me.
In addition to the event business, we began a live music schedule. We had some truly awesome bands, and some really horrible ones. I became that hideous thing in biopics and musician auto-biographies, a club manager. I will save the stories for a book, should I ever write one, but there were numerous ones of me just being an asshole. In fairness, I was dealing with assholes also, but it is no excuse for my behavior. Additionally, at our Christmas party, I almost had an affair with one of our bartenders, which would have made me a huge cliche. I was falling apart, not standing up for anything I believed in. I got fat, never saw my family, was lonely, depressed, angry, nasty and bitter. If you think I am not fun now, you should have known me for the nearly two years I worked at this club. It destroyed me.
In late January, I terminated our event sales manager, adding to some people's feeling that I was a megalomaniac. It did not help that I hired one the least friendly people I have ever met. I also hired a drunken fool and mentally unstable man as my assistant. He quit one night after I had to come back to his crying in a corner about nothing in particular. During the summer of 1997, I was called in to inform me that our safe had been emptied. The company refused to investigate because it would increase our insurance premiums, but there was some thought amongst the higher-ups that I had some part in it. For the record, I did not. I wanted the investigation just to clear my name, but the company refused and I began looking for another job. I was, in fact, offered a job as a GM of a local Brewery and restaurant in August, but I was tricked into believing that the company would finally let me get away from the night club biz and get into real event sales. I saw this as a real positive for the company and they seemed to agree. To motivate me, the company told me that if I spent my own money to increase business, I could refund that money from door charges and tips from events. The business had only ever done $45,000 annually in events and I saw a much bigger potential, some of which we were already seeing. By the end of 1997, we had built event sales to $455,000. The next year, through the efforts of an old friend, we were slated to do $750,000+. During this time, I really lost my way, my ethics, my soul.
In the fall of 1997, my old friend Paul called me. He was looking to learn about event sales, and knew that I had a lot of experience in it. He asked if he could learn from me and, instead, I offered him the vacant position of Event Sales Manager. He asked for help learning, and I put him in charge of all of our sales. While I write this, that seems so ridiculous, but he was really good at it and it turned out in most ways to be the best decision I made while at the club. I didn't know it at the time, but in retrospect, I had ulterior motives. Paul, like most of my friends from my early Christian experience, was someone who I didn't think thought very highly of me. This was the person I called my best friend, and the best man in my wedding, but was someone whose motives and judgments I distrusted greatly. To me, hiring Paul was a good decision for business reasons (I knew he would be good at it for many qualities that he naturally has), but I would not be honest if I did not admit that I wanted him to value me. I think somewhere in my addled brain, I believed that I could prove my worth to him if he worked for me and could somehow control his perception through the context of the new work relationship. One can see from just this paragraph that my perception was skewed, he had called me to ask me for help in learning something and I still believed he did not value me.
In addition to the event business, we began a live music schedule. We had some truly awesome bands, and some really horrible ones. I became that hideous thing in biopics and musician auto-biographies, a club manager. I will save the stories for a book, should I ever write one, but there were numerous ones of me just being an asshole. In fairness, I was dealing with assholes also, but it is no excuse for my behavior. Additionally, at our Christmas party, I almost had an affair with one of our bartenders, which would have made me a huge cliche. I was falling apart, not standing up for anything I believed in. I got fat, never saw my family, was lonely, depressed, angry, nasty and bitter. If you think I am not fun now, you should have known me for the nearly two years I worked at this club. It destroyed me.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
a difficult time of my life
To be honest, I can't wait to be done with the autobiographical part of the blog. It is the thing that most keeps me from writing. I feel that I need to get at least close to the present, but I am heading into a very difficult time for me in the story. I knew when I started that I would hurt some people's feelings, but felt that being honest was far more important. You will have to decide for yourself whether you value honesty over taking care of people's emotions, but I have made the choice to tell my truth.
"Tell my truth" is a funny statement, but I mean just that. This is what I remember, these were my feelings. Some of them are not fun to write out. Some of those are coming up and may hurt some of you who read this. It is not my intent to harm anyone, but the truth of my perspective may do just that. It clearly already has in some instances of friends and family who have read the words contained within this blog and vowed to never speak to me again. I accept this verdict, this judgment, this condemnation because what I write is what I really think. I am truly sorry if I have or do hurt someone in the future. Please feel free to rip me in comments and I will post them, so long as they do not detract from the story (get off topic) and so long as they are responses and not the kind of crap my cousin tried to write. If you wish to tell your side, feel free to respond, I don't mind attacks but make them based on what was written. If you want to attack me in general, get your own blog.
On that note, and because rumor has it that my idiot uncle has read these stories, writing a blog lends no credence to one's point of view. My idiot uncle chooses to attack with baseless allegations anyone he can. I have told others not to respond as it gives him a stage. So far he has not commented much about me, but if you are reading this Charley (Charles is your real name, not the bullshit you tell others), bring it.
Okay I am off of that rant and back to the pages of this story. I will try to be more diligent so I can finish it.
"Tell my truth" is a funny statement, but I mean just that. This is what I remember, these were my feelings. Some of them are not fun to write out. Some of those are coming up and may hurt some of you who read this. It is not my intent to harm anyone, but the truth of my perspective may do just that. It clearly already has in some instances of friends and family who have read the words contained within this blog and vowed to never speak to me again. I accept this verdict, this judgment, this condemnation because what I write is what I really think. I am truly sorry if I have or do hurt someone in the future. Please feel free to rip me in comments and I will post them, so long as they do not detract from the story (get off topic) and so long as they are responses and not the kind of crap my cousin tried to write. If you wish to tell your side, feel free to respond, I don't mind attacks but make them based on what was written. If you want to attack me in general, get your own blog.
On that note, and because rumor has it that my idiot uncle has read these stories, writing a blog lends no credence to one's point of view. My idiot uncle chooses to attack with baseless allegations anyone he can. I have told others not to respond as it gives him a stage. So far he has not commented much about me, but if you are reading this Charley (Charles is your real name, not the bullshit you tell others), bring it.
Okay I am off of that rant and back to the pages of this story. I will try to be more diligent so I can finish it.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Part 80
I was strung along by Philip for a few months, but by the end of the second month, the handwriting was on the wall. I was taking unemployment for the first time in my life and searching for the right spot to be a GM. I had pretty much given up on acting, though I still occasionally would act in something a friend would call about. My brother was running another restaurant company and had hired my former assistant and book keeper, Lisa, as his GM at an upscale Mexican restaurant called Rebecca's in Venice. They both asked if I would be willing to Maitre D' on the weekends for cash payment and tips. I agreed and soon was making $600 per week for working about 12 hours. There is something wrong with me that this was not good enough for me.
Cathy's pregnancy was clipping along and everything was going well. I continued to write but found myself in the same position of getting tired of my own writing and throwing things away before I finished them. This was a difficult time because I really wanted to be hired as a GM, though I never had been hired directly as a GM (Always promoted). A few months into this, and with my first born child's arrival rapidly approaching, I began looking at club jobs too. In September 1996, I began the interview process with a club in Long Beach called Jillian's. I had never spent any time in Long Beach and only knew the club because my predecessor at Renaissance had been their opening GM. They hired me as a "fast track" manager, colorful euphemism in the restaurant business which means "we don't like our GM, but don't know or trust you yet." They paid me $22,000 less than I had made in my previous job and less than I was making at Rebecca's, but the good news was they would over work me!
On October 16th, 1996, my wife delivered our son into the world. At 11 lbs 11 oz, he was a gigantic baby and a sight to behold. One week later, I began as the Operations Manager at Jillian's in Long Beach. It took no time at all to realize that the existing GM was unqualified, inexperienced and an easy mark. I tried to be nice about it, but I immediately worked to usurp his position. Jillian's was also all of the ick of the club business without any of the fun. I was working an average of 70 hours per week and driving an hour each way to work. I was basically an absent father for my son's early life and am thrilled that I was (and am) married to such a strong, loving, caring and wonderful person who gave him everything he needed in those first months (really about two years). On December 18th 1996, the company fired the GM and promoted me. It immediately went downhill. The existing staff hated me for usurping their friend and former boss and new employees were untrustworthy and soured by the existing staff. 1996 ended with promise, or at least perceived promise and a decision to move to the area to at least cut down my drive time.
Cathy's pregnancy was clipping along and everything was going well. I continued to write but found myself in the same position of getting tired of my own writing and throwing things away before I finished them. This was a difficult time because I really wanted to be hired as a GM, though I never had been hired directly as a GM (Always promoted). A few months into this, and with my first born child's arrival rapidly approaching, I began looking at club jobs too. In September 1996, I began the interview process with a club in Long Beach called Jillian's. I had never spent any time in Long Beach and only knew the club because my predecessor at Renaissance had been their opening GM. They hired me as a "fast track" manager, colorful euphemism in the restaurant business which means "we don't like our GM, but don't know or trust you yet." They paid me $22,000 less than I had made in my previous job and less than I was making at Rebecca's, but the good news was they would over work me!
On October 16th, 1996, my wife delivered our son into the world. At 11 lbs 11 oz, he was a gigantic baby and a sight to behold. One week later, I began as the Operations Manager at Jillian's in Long Beach. It took no time at all to realize that the existing GM was unqualified, inexperienced and an easy mark. I tried to be nice about it, but I immediately worked to usurp his position. Jillian's was also all of the ick of the club business without any of the fun. I was working an average of 70 hours per week and driving an hour each way to work. I was basically an absent father for my son's early life and am thrilled that I was (and am) married to such a strong, loving, caring and wonderful person who gave him everything he needed in those first months (really about two years). On December 18th 1996, the company fired the GM and promoted me. It immediately went downhill. The existing staff hated me for usurping their friend and former boss and new employees were untrustworthy and soured by the existing staff. 1996 ended with promise, or at least perceived promise and a decision to move to the area to at least cut down my drive time.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Part 79
Things were going well at the club and both Cathy and I were making money, so that January (1996), we decided to take a little vacation and visit my Dad and Step-mom in Washington. They lived in a little border town called Custer and My Step-mom was a border inspector for the FDA. My brother went up the same week, so we had a blast hanging out altogether for the first time in ten years. My step-brother John came over one night too with his new wife and her son and we played darts just like when we were kids. During the trip, Darin, Cathy and I took a drive into Vancouver BC. I have to say, Vancouver is one of the prettiest cities I have ever been to. Additionally, since it is on a very select list (3) of cities outside this country I have been, it felt very much like a great vacation and I think both Cathy and I loved it. During the trip, Cathy became pregnant, though we would not be sure for weeks Cathy seemed to know right away.
Returning to LA, I had work to do to get ready for 1996 at the club. I had also just finished my second screenplay (and first by myself) called "the job". It was a crime story in the vein of Pulp Fiction told from a number of different people's viewpoints. To say it was not formulaic is a huge understatement. Even my more adventurous friends in the industry told me that no one would ever make this film. They were correct. On January 30th, I had asked a bunch of folks to meet me at the club (it was closed for lunch) to do a read-through of my new script. As we sat down to read, one of the owners came in and nervously asked me why we were there. When I told him, he said "Oh. We are closing the club today and handing it back over to the landlords."
I was devastated by this turn of events. I had worked hard and brought us back to some level of profitability and even returned some of the money the investors had put in which they were certain to lose before I took over. In my weak state, I did not see the owners manipulating me either. In the end, they closed owing me over 4000 bucks and I had just found out for sure that my first child was on the way. One owner dropped off the face of the planet, probably ending up either dead from drugs or (hopefully) turning his life around and leading a happy and healthy life. I never saw him again. The other owner, Philip, continued to make me think that he was going to open one more club and that I could be a part owner. He strung me along for weeks and got me to do all I had done for him in opening the other clubs, but this time for free. I felt like such an ass when I figured out that he was just using me. It was a hard time and would not be the last very similar situation.
Returning to LA, I had work to do to get ready for 1996 at the club. I had also just finished my second screenplay (and first by myself) called "the job". It was a crime story in the vein of Pulp Fiction told from a number of different people's viewpoints. To say it was not formulaic is a huge understatement. Even my more adventurous friends in the industry told me that no one would ever make this film. They were correct. On January 30th, I had asked a bunch of folks to meet me at the club (it was closed for lunch) to do a read-through of my new script. As we sat down to read, one of the owners came in and nervously asked me why we were there. When I told him, he said "Oh. We are closing the club today and handing it back over to the landlords."
I was devastated by this turn of events. I had worked hard and brought us back to some level of profitability and even returned some of the money the investors had put in which they were certain to lose before I took over. In my weak state, I did not see the owners manipulating me either. In the end, they closed owing me over 4000 bucks and I had just found out for sure that my first child was on the way. One owner dropped off the face of the planet, probably ending up either dead from drugs or (hopefully) turning his life around and leading a happy and healthy life. I never saw him again. The other owner, Philip, continued to make me think that he was going to open one more club and that I could be a part owner. He strung me along for weeks and got me to do all I had done for him in opening the other clubs, but this time for free. I felt like such an ass when I figured out that he was just using me. It was a hard time and would not be the last very similar situation.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Part 78
In late summer of '95, I was promoted to General Manager at Renaissance. It was a great day. It was announced in the middle of a staff meeting while the much-maligned consultants were being terminated in the other room. The staff actually applauded, it felt great.
Our first step was to re-brand the restaurant, which we envisioned as an upscale southwestern approach called the Rattlesnake Cantina. In the end, the restaurant was a small portion of our sales with the real money coming from the club business and special events. During the next few months, I also aided one of the owners in various new openings of clubs on the west side and in Hollywood, as well as some consulting gigs. All in all, I really enjoyed the work and saw an opportunity for the first time that was beyond acting. For the first time, I identified myself as something other than an actor. I was, and am, a restaurant operator.
Cathy and I also began a short discussion about having children. We had been married almost 5 years and we both wanted children. Cathy wanted 1, I wanted 5. At least we knew we were starting with the same number. In December of 1995, we decided to try to get pregnant. trying is actually pretty fun, I strongly recommend it to those considering having a child!
Our first step was to re-brand the restaurant, which we envisioned as an upscale southwestern approach called the Rattlesnake Cantina. In the end, the restaurant was a small portion of our sales with the real money coming from the club business and special events. During the next few months, I also aided one of the owners in various new openings of clubs on the west side and in Hollywood, as well as some consulting gigs. All in all, I really enjoyed the work and saw an opportunity for the first time that was beyond acting. For the first time, I identified myself as something other than an actor. I was, and am, a restaurant operator.
Cathy and I also began a short discussion about having children. We had been married almost 5 years and we both wanted children. Cathy wanted 1, I wanted 5. At least we knew we were starting with the same number. In December of 1995, we decided to try to get pregnant. trying is actually pretty fun, I strongly recommend it to those considering having a child!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Update
For those of you unaware, as of Thursday, I will again be unemployed. It is a long story that may make its way onto these pages, but for now I will just say I am relieved. It has been a bad fit for me, but I have been blessed to lead a good team of people and wish them all the best. There are about 15 different directions I could go in, so I am praying for a little guidance in my judgement.
Part 77 - a new direction or perspective or something
So, with 1995 rolling in, I was still engaged in casting director workshops, regular (or semi-regular) auditions and in January, I began looking for a job. My brother had become the GM at Broadway Deli and told me that one of the owners' (Michel Richard, famous chef) brother-in-law, Jean-Jacques had taken over as a GM at a big club on the other side of the Promenade. JJ (Jean-Jacques is just too long to write every time) took me in as a server and I immediately loved it. The club was jumping for both dining and as a late night popular west-side night club. It was a place to be seen and many celebrities came there. One of the owners, Philip, allowed me to stage my showcase there and about 200 people attended, including managers, producers and reps from some of the biggest agencies. As the producer, director and the person who wrote most of the material we performed, one would think it would go well for me. It certainly was a successful showcase. Of the 8 actors involved, 7 received roles directly due to their performance that night. Only one performer received no offers, me.
That was really the beginning of the end for me as an actor. I had gained some success regionally as an actor and did fairly well in auditions, but it just wasn't in the cards as they say. Being unsuccessful as I headed rapidly toward my 30's seemed like a recipe for bitterness. Though I received a great many kudos for my performances over the years, in the end, I just did not have the stamina to continue trying to be a working actor. If I am honest, and I like to think I am, I have to admit that my desire was never to be a working actor. My desire was to be a star. I am very average in appearance and there are not many Hollywood roles for that guy who looks like every other man on the street. Though I was a good actor, I don't think I was great, and good is not enough.
JJ left the company by the time of my showcase in late March, and the club closed for a few weeks to renovate and re-brand. During that time, my friend Paul and his wife moved to Westwood and both my car and Cathy's broke down. Cathy's Mom gave us her old car and we bought a Saturn. In Late May, the club re-opened and was kicking once again. Some of the staff had moved on and I was picked to be a floor supervisor by the new GM, Jerry. Jerry lasted about 5 weeks and instead of getting a new GM, the company hired a consulting group and I was promoted to dining room manager (paid a weekly rate). I had a great summer, hanging out with a bunch of friends I had met through the club, many of whom were very talented people from Florida including my buddy Damon Jones (Now a regular performing member of the Groundlings and recently seen on an episode of Top Chef as a guest judge). It was really nice to be in a group of artists, and I really began to show who I was there. Things were once again looking up!
That was really the beginning of the end for me as an actor. I had gained some success regionally as an actor and did fairly well in auditions, but it just wasn't in the cards as they say. Being unsuccessful as I headed rapidly toward my 30's seemed like a recipe for bitterness. Though I received a great many kudos for my performances over the years, in the end, I just did not have the stamina to continue trying to be a working actor. If I am honest, and I like to think I am, I have to admit that my desire was never to be a working actor. My desire was to be a star. I am very average in appearance and there are not many Hollywood roles for that guy who looks like every other man on the street. Though I was a good actor, I don't think I was great, and good is not enough.
JJ left the company by the time of my showcase in late March, and the club closed for a few weeks to renovate and re-brand. During that time, my friend Paul and his wife moved to Westwood and both my car and Cathy's broke down. Cathy's Mom gave us her old car and we bought a Saturn. In Late May, the club re-opened and was kicking once again. Some of the staff had moved on and I was picked to be a floor supervisor by the new GM, Jerry. Jerry lasted about 5 weeks and instead of getting a new GM, the company hired a consulting group and I was promoted to dining room manager (paid a weekly rate). I had a great summer, hanging out with a bunch of friends I had met through the club, many of whom were very talented people from Florida including my buddy Damon Jones (Now a regular performing member of the Groundlings and recently seen on an episode of Top Chef as a guest judge). It was really nice to be in a group of artists, and I really began to show who I was there. Things were once again looking up!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Part 76
The summer of 1994 was pretty fun, all in all. Most days, I would get a page (yes, back before everyone had cell phones, we had little beepers we wore on our belts)from one of the extra agencies and head off to what I hoped would be 16 hours of work. On off days, I would walk down to Venice Beach and hang out. My friend Cristos and I had a "martial arts show" we did as a street performance on both Venice Beach and 3rd St Promenade. It was fun! I was not anywhere in Cristos' league when it came to my abilities in Karate, but being associated with him made me feel better about those abilities.
As the summer wore on, I began to get really tired of extra work. I had gathered together enough vouchers (long story) to get my union card and after a particularly disastrous day spent on a set in Ojai California, I decided to move on. I still kept doing the Casting Director Workshops and was still seeking my fame and fortune as an actor, but I only did one extra or action extra gig after that point. In October of that year, I took a seasonal job as a store manager for Hickory Farms. It was a bizarre choice and to be honest, I hated it. I played poker occasionally with the guy who owned the Sheepskin store in the mall, hired some friends from the dojo I worked out at and pretty much set my own schedule. However, retail is really not for me and when asked later, I declined to be considered for any further employment with the company.
In December of that year, I saw a difference in my Dad that took my breath away. In 1983, when I had run away from home, my Dad had cleared out my savings account and for a couple of years it stood between us. After finding redemption through Christ, I decided the only way to go forward was to forgive him and move on. That happened in 1987, and the very few times he ever brought it up, I would dismiss it as unimportant and change the subject. In December of that year, my Dad sent me a letter with a check. He not only repaid all the money, but also sent compounded interest for the previous 11 years. This type of character just surprized the hell out of me, I still try to live up to that moment in everything I do.
Unfortunately, I took the money and joined the union (which I had earned the right to do through extra work). It took all the money he had sent and I never again worked in a union production. It still remains one of the worst uses of money I have ever engaged in...and that is saying something.
As the summer wore on, I began to get really tired of extra work. I had gathered together enough vouchers (long story) to get my union card and after a particularly disastrous day spent on a set in Ojai California, I decided to move on. I still kept doing the Casting Director Workshops and was still seeking my fame and fortune as an actor, but I only did one extra or action extra gig after that point. In October of that year, I took a seasonal job as a store manager for Hickory Farms. It was a bizarre choice and to be honest, I hated it. I played poker occasionally with the guy who owned the Sheepskin store in the mall, hired some friends from the dojo I worked out at and pretty much set my own schedule. However, retail is really not for me and when asked later, I declined to be considered for any further employment with the company.
In December of that year, I saw a difference in my Dad that took my breath away. In 1983, when I had run away from home, my Dad had cleared out my savings account and for a couple of years it stood between us. After finding redemption through Christ, I decided the only way to go forward was to forgive him and move on. That happened in 1987, and the very few times he ever brought it up, I would dismiss it as unimportant and change the subject. In December of that year, my Dad sent me a letter with a check. He not only repaid all the money, but also sent compounded interest for the previous 11 years. This type of character just surprized the hell out of me, I still try to live up to that moment in everything I do.
Unfortunately, I took the money and joined the union (which I had earned the right to do through extra work). It took all the money he had sent and I never again worked in a union production. It still remains one of the worst uses of money I have ever engaged in...and that is saying something.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Part 75
*I am not finished yet, though I took 15 months off...I wonder if any of you are still out there*
1994 was shaping up to be an interesting year, a big earthquake, a new job and a still overwhelming desire to be famous. I often think about my times as an actor, and wonder about my motivations. I know, it sounds all actor-y. But I really do wonder. Was it truly a desire to be on stage (which I loved dearly)? Was it the adoration and applause of the audience? Or, was it just a pathetic need to be important. More importantly, am I still led around by the nose by that same need?
At the time, I wasn't thinking about it too much, I just wanted in. I used to picture myself appearing on the Tonight Show, sitting next to Johnny Carson (for you younger folk, he was the old guy ... before Jay...the fisrt time). I used to think how cool I would be, not one of those jerk actors who came across all snobby. Somewhere in my head, I am sure I thought I would finally have value to my parents if I were famous. I now find the thought of that icky and sad.
I began meeting with a very well-known manager named Bob Thompson. Bob told me to choose a career, I couldn't be an actor, a director, a writer and a producer; one would always take precedence. To my long-lasting regret, I said actor. I wish I had said writer. Bob set me up with a very expensive photographer who did the first truly professional head shots I had ever had (no offense to Paul, who took some wonderful head shots for me when I was in a jam, but it was not his chosen field). With these new calling cards in hand, I began to pursue an agent. To add some hopes to my pursuits, I also began doing Casting Director Workshops. I met and read for some of the best Casting Directors in all of Hollywood. In May of 1994, I began extra work and what was then referred to as "action extra" work (this is low-level stunt stuff which was mostly comprised of me getting hit in the head with various objects by celebrities for film and television). It was fun, but I made very littel monty because I had to work a full manager's schedule at the restaurant.
In June, I gave notice at the Beverly Hills restaurant so I could pursue my career (gawd that sounds ridiculous to me now). Cathy had quit school and taken a job at a place that sold toner and I felt free to really go after my career. I spent time in various TV and film sets that summer working with big-name actors and smaller actors. I was not acting, I was a living prop. However, I tried to do my part with integrity, and I was often rewarded with extra days or SAG pay for those jobs. I met (thogh I am certain talking to me would be compared to talking with a plant for these folks) Geena Davis, Michael Keaton, Christopher Reeves, Ernie Hudson, Jeff Bridges, Ralph Fiennes (who knew I would meet the Dark Lord), Angela Basset, Vincent D'Onofrio, Kevin Dillon, Alicia Silverstone, Tom Sizemore, Bill Paxton, Ellen Barkin, Cynthia Rothrock, Jena Claude Van Damme, Jim Belushi, and many others who would never be as well-known as these celebrities but who did their job with a professionalism I grew to really admire. Many of them dealt with me with real grace and a giving nature. Very few were mean (I am pointing at you Voldemort!). I still love to tell stories about these times. They are unusual and fun, and outside of the normal experience of most people. Additionally, since I am not an important part of these stories, I can go on and on about them and not feel bad about myself at all. That by itself is awesome!
1994 was shaping up to be an interesting year, a big earthquake, a new job and a still overwhelming desire to be famous. I often think about my times as an actor, and wonder about my motivations. I know, it sounds all actor-y. But I really do wonder. Was it truly a desire to be on stage (which I loved dearly)? Was it the adoration and applause of the audience? Or, was it just a pathetic need to be important. More importantly, am I still led around by the nose by that same need?
At the time, I wasn't thinking about it too much, I just wanted in. I used to picture myself appearing on the Tonight Show, sitting next to Johnny Carson (for you younger folk, he was the old guy ... before Jay...the fisrt time). I used to think how cool I would be, not one of those jerk actors who came across all snobby. Somewhere in my head, I am sure I thought I would finally have value to my parents if I were famous. I now find the thought of that icky and sad.
I began meeting with a very well-known manager named Bob Thompson. Bob told me to choose a career, I couldn't be an actor, a director, a writer and a producer; one would always take precedence. To my long-lasting regret, I said actor. I wish I had said writer. Bob set me up with a very expensive photographer who did the first truly professional head shots I had ever had (no offense to Paul, who took some wonderful head shots for me when I was in a jam, but it was not his chosen field). With these new calling cards in hand, I began to pursue an agent. To add some hopes to my pursuits, I also began doing Casting Director Workshops. I met and read for some of the best Casting Directors in all of Hollywood. In May of 1994, I began extra work and what was then referred to as "action extra" work (this is low-level stunt stuff which was mostly comprised of me getting hit in the head with various objects by celebrities for film and television). It was fun, but I made very littel monty because I had to work a full manager's schedule at the restaurant.
In June, I gave notice at the Beverly Hills restaurant so I could pursue my career (gawd that sounds ridiculous to me now). Cathy had quit school and taken a job at a place that sold toner and I felt free to really go after my career. I spent time in various TV and film sets that summer working with big-name actors and smaller actors. I was not acting, I was a living prop. However, I tried to do my part with integrity, and I was often rewarded with extra days or SAG pay for those jobs. I met (thogh I am certain talking to me would be compared to talking with a plant for these folks) Geena Davis, Michael Keaton, Christopher Reeves, Ernie Hudson, Jeff Bridges, Ralph Fiennes (who knew I would meet the Dark Lord), Angela Basset, Vincent D'Onofrio, Kevin Dillon, Alicia Silverstone, Tom Sizemore, Bill Paxton, Ellen Barkin, Cynthia Rothrock, Jena Claude Van Damme, Jim Belushi, and many others who would never be as well-known as these celebrities but who did their job with a professionalism I grew to really admire. Many of them dealt with me with real grace and a giving nature. Very few were mean (I am pointing at you Voldemort!). I still love to tell stories about these times. They are unusual and fun, and outside of the normal experience of most people. Additionally, since I am not an important part of these stories, I can go on and on about them and not feel bad about myself at all. That by itself is awesome!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
getting old(er)
In my head, I know that I am not old. To my shock, this year I feel in my heart that I am. My body just does not respond like it once did, and I can no longer just drop ten pounds a week when i realize I have let myself go. I am going to have to start watching what I eat, being intentional about excercise and planning for things rather than being super spontaneous. Apparently, there will be no graceful entrance into my later years. Or maybe there will, I have no idea.
And that is another thing, as I get older, I am more aware of the things I don't know than the things I do. After meeting a know-it-all in his twenties, I commented to a friend that I had it all figured out in my twenties also and have spent the last two decades learning just how much I don't know. So, here is s hort list of things I really don't know:
Why people do the things they do
Which political party is worse
How to motivate Christians to live by faith
How to parent
How to fix a car
Which is the quickest route home from almost anywhere
Why artists feel excluded in most church environments
Where my keys are
Where my shoes are
What I was looking for and where I left it
And that is another thing, as I get older, I am more aware of the things I don't know than the things I do. After meeting a know-it-all in his twenties, I commented to a friend that I had it all figured out in my twenties also and have spent the last two decades learning just how much I don't know. So, here is s hort list of things I really don't know:
Why people do the things they do
Which political party is worse
How to motivate Christians to live by faith
How to parent
How to fix a car
Which is the quickest route home from almost anywhere
Why artists feel excluded in most church environments
Where my keys are
Where my shoes are
What I was looking for and where I left it
Part 74
I was let go at yet another job in the same year. This time the stated reason for my dismissal was, "You are an asshole, and I can't have an asshole running my company." I think that is fair enough. I was only 26 and had a lot to learn. From there, I took a job at a tiny Italian restaurant on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. This business was fascinating, because while it was a very small restaurant, it was owned by a billionaire whose office was across the street. To say that this made it an interesting job is an understatement. Our greater company was run by someone reputed to be a former member of the Israeli Mossad, and the owner also owned a casino in Vegas. At the time, this scared me to death as I thought these guys might kill me if I pissed them off. Years later I discovered who and what they really were: The owner was the man who invented junk bonds and leveraged buy outs. While we were not similar in many ways, I still learned a lot from him and those he surrounded himself with. When I left in the summer of 1994, I was surprised to find out that they really liked me.
During my time in this job, more specifically in January of 1994, two major events happened. First, in early January on the way to work, my car was hit by what appeared to be a homeless man just walking across the street. When I jumped out of my car, he attacked me. I quickly defended myself with what my memory still tells me was only four hits. As the event ended up being recorded on video, I came face-to-face with the fact that personal memory isnt that great as the video showed that I hit him at least 7 times. Unfortunately, he passed away. While I was not arrested because the LAPD officer nearby could clearly see (and had recorded on his dash cam) that I was defending myself, I did have to go through a Grand Jury proceeding (apparently this is the law, I don't know). Anyway, I was given what is called a no-bill, meaning they were not pursuing any charges against me and the case was ruled a justifiable homicide due to self-defense. What bothered me most about this was that I never felt any effects of guilt or remorse and I started to worry that something was broken inside me. Regardless of the fact that I can justify my defense, most people still struggle with some intense feelings regarding a situation such as this and I did not. I am unsure as to why this is, but it is probably the thing that mostly keeps me from grieving when people I know pass away. I can cry at a well-made commercial, but shed no tears when people die. That just seems odd.
Anyway, the other event that January happened a week or two later when the Northridge earthquake hit. I don't know if you have ever been in a major earthquake, but I have been in several: Sylmar 1971; Loma Prieta 1989; Northridge 1994 and nearby in several others. For a while there, I was in the middle of every major earthquake in California during my lifetime. I am happy to say, that season has passed. That year, we were awakened by what I would still describe as the worst shaking of any quake I had yet been in. We lived in Venice Beach in a tiny bungalow and I just reached across and pulled Cathy out of a dead sleep into the door jam for protection. It was scary, the power went out, we were violently wakened by the shaking and lets face it, we lived in the hood. I had to walk down the block to grab a flashlight out of my car and ended up having to work the next day also. We were very busy as the water in Beverly Hills was not safe so people were coming in for bottled water and a little breakfast. One aftershock caused a marble gargoyle (or something like that) to fall from the roof of our building and another had the chef and I hugging in a door jam in the storage space three levels below ground hoping to make it out. As I think of it now, it was a funny scene, but at the time it was not funny at all. I should have known that 1994 was going to be an eventful year, but to be honest, I just wasn't that introspective.
During my time in this job, more specifically in January of 1994, two major events happened. First, in early January on the way to work, my car was hit by what appeared to be a homeless man just walking across the street. When I jumped out of my car, he attacked me. I quickly defended myself with what my memory still tells me was only four hits. As the event ended up being recorded on video, I came face-to-face with the fact that personal memory isnt that great as the video showed that I hit him at least 7 times. Unfortunately, he passed away. While I was not arrested because the LAPD officer nearby could clearly see (and had recorded on his dash cam) that I was defending myself, I did have to go through a Grand Jury proceeding (apparently this is the law, I don't know). Anyway, I was given what is called a no-bill, meaning they were not pursuing any charges against me and the case was ruled a justifiable homicide due to self-defense. What bothered me most about this was that I never felt any effects of guilt or remorse and I started to worry that something was broken inside me. Regardless of the fact that I can justify my defense, most people still struggle with some intense feelings regarding a situation such as this and I did not. I am unsure as to why this is, but it is probably the thing that mostly keeps me from grieving when people I know pass away. I can cry at a well-made commercial, but shed no tears when people die. That just seems odd.
Anyway, the other event that January happened a week or two later when the Northridge earthquake hit. I don't know if you have ever been in a major earthquake, but I have been in several: Sylmar 1971; Loma Prieta 1989; Northridge 1994 and nearby in several others. For a while there, I was in the middle of every major earthquake in California during my lifetime. I am happy to say, that season has passed. That year, we were awakened by what I would still describe as the worst shaking of any quake I had yet been in. We lived in Venice Beach in a tiny bungalow and I just reached across and pulled Cathy out of a dead sleep into the door jam for protection. It was scary, the power went out, we were violently wakened by the shaking and lets face it, we lived in the hood. I had to walk down the block to grab a flashlight out of my car and ended up having to work the next day also. We were very busy as the water in Beverly Hills was not safe so people were coming in for bottled water and a little breakfast. One aftershock caused a marble gargoyle (or something like that) to fall from the roof of our building and another had the chef and I hugging in a door jam in the storage space three levels below ground hoping to make it out. As I think of it now, it was a funny scene, but at the time it was not funny at all. I should have known that 1994 was going to be an eventful year, but to be honest, I just wasn't that introspective.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Part 73
Though I was firmly entrenched in the idea that I was, first and foremost, and actor, I was still open to other art forms and engaging in different media for my voice. I got my first pitch meeting in November of 1992 with some producers I had met while working at the deli. I really didn't know much about how things worked (though you never would have known this by looking only at my arrogance and self-aggrandizing), and I still don't know how real they were. But, after picking out a concept to pursue for a Television show, they went to work on getting me a pitch meeting with a network and I gathered some friends around to do some writing. We really never accomplished anything because I chose other actors I knew who had some writing experience, and we basically accomplished nothing in our two writing sessions. In late December, as Cathy and I were headed back to San Jose for Christmas, I got the call that we would be meeting with ABC in early January. So, my first visit home, I was full of bravado and frankly, very full of myself. Unfortunately, the pitch meeting never happened and I never developed anything which would have prompted pursuit of a further appointment. The producers stopped calling or returning my calls and the project went away, as they so often do.
I was also in the process of two writing projects of my own volition. One was a novel based very loosely on when my brothers and I had run away in 1981. The other was a play about the pressure of Tolerance creating an intolerant culture. It all took place inside a jail cell in a fictional country and was called, "the caged." Mid-way through the process of writing the play, one of my friends sid it sounded more like a movie and I changed the work into a hastily written, 7 or 8 page treatment for what I envisioned in a screenplay. The difficulty is that I knew nothing about the structure of screenplays. So, in Late March of 1993, I called up my friend Paul in San Jose and asked him if he would mind writing it with me. Not having a computer, most of the writing was completed by Paul (95%) and he changed it to an action film. Paul knows what sells and is a very visual thinker, so this made sense. On the other hand, I am all about the words (dialogue), so it didn't feel like me at all. I still credit this as the first screenplay I ever finished even though I really did almost none of the writing (an occasional note on swearing, because while Paul was a good kid who really didn't swear properly, it was my everyday vernacular).
On July 2nd 1993, Paul and his wife were visiting Santa Barbara and Cathy and I drove up to pick up the completed script. I also picked up a vicious case of food poisoning, but that is an unpleasant memory and I will not disgust you with the details. After recovering from my illness, I made copies of the script and set about the foolish task of trying to prodice it myself. Gathering a little money from what turned out to be an illegal raffle (I ended up having to give most of the money back), I bought some supplies and began breaking down the script. I had absolutely no experience or knowledge of how to produce a film. I just figured that it would be roughly the same as producing a play, I was wrong. On top of the constant realization of just what I did not know, my dog actually ate some of my production board (no joke). I was so demoralized, that I let the project go. Paul was still using the script at that time to market his work as a writer.
In late July, I was fired at the Deli...by my brother no less, and with cause. My bitterness about some decisions of the GM (I was by that time a manager) were playing out in my actions and he sent my brother to deal with me. It did not cause any problems between us and I went on to my first job as a GM of an independant restaurant in Santa Monica. This only lasted 3 months, because while I was good at analyzing the issues and implementing plans, I had not yet learned how to treat people. During my time there, I was hosting a radio show on cable radio (back when no one had cable radio, and I sucked); I had begun Kenpo Karate after being away from Martial Arts for a few years; and I met a manager who was a big deal and agreed to meet with me and see where it went. He had been a Producer on The Paper Chase among other things and was managing Rob Estes (who was on Silk Stocking at the time, but went on to Melrose Place fame). I gave him the script and he asked me a simple question, "Are you an Actor, Director, Writer or Producer?" When I told him all of the above, he was not amused and told me to pick one. He told me to know who and what I was, I could do all of the above, but I could not effectively BE all of the above. To paraphrase the old Knight from the third Indiana Jones movie, I chose ... poorly. I said actor, because it was all I ever knew myself as. He set me up with a great photographer, but really didnt pursue me any longer. Unforunately, I was so full of myself as an actor and did not have the hunger which propels most actors to power through bad auditions, mean casting directors, dismissive directors and studios and producers. If I had it to do over again, I would have said producer, but it is what it is.
I was also in the process of two writing projects of my own volition. One was a novel based very loosely on when my brothers and I had run away in 1981. The other was a play about the pressure of Tolerance creating an intolerant culture. It all took place inside a jail cell in a fictional country and was called, "the caged." Mid-way through the process of writing the play, one of my friends sid it sounded more like a movie and I changed the work into a hastily written, 7 or 8 page treatment for what I envisioned in a screenplay. The difficulty is that I knew nothing about the structure of screenplays. So, in Late March of 1993, I called up my friend Paul in San Jose and asked him if he would mind writing it with me. Not having a computer, most of the writing was completed by Paul (95%) and he changed it to an action film. Paul knows what sells and is a very visual thinker, so this made sense. On the other hand, I am all about the words (dialogue), so it didn't feel like me at all. I still credit this as the first screenplay I ever finished even though I really did almost none of the writing (an occasional note on swearing, because while Paul was a good kid who really didn't swear properly, it was my everyday vernacular).
On July 2nd 1993, Paul and his wife were visiting Santa Barbara and Cathy and I drove up to pick up the completed script. I also picked up a vicious case of food poisoning, but that is an unpleasant memory and I will not disgust you with the details. After recovering from my illness, I made copies of the script and set about the foolish task of trying to prodice it myself. Gathering a little money from what turned out to be an illegal raffle (I ended up having to give most of the money back), I bought some supplies and began breaking down the script. I had absolutely no experience or knowledge of how to produce a film. I just figured that it would be roughly the same as producing a play, I was wrong. On top of the constant realization of just what I did not know, my dog actually ate some of my production board (no joke). I was so demoralized, that I let the project go. Paul was still using the script at that time to market his work as a writer.
In late July, I was fired at the Deli...by my brother no less, and with cause. My bitterness about some decisions of the GM (I was by that time a manager) were playing out in my actions and he sent my brother to deal with me. It did not cause any problems between us and I went on to my first job as a GM of an independant restaurant in Santa Monica. This only lasted 3 months, because while I was good at analyzing the issues and implementing plans, I had not yet learned how to treat people. During my time there, I was hosting a radio show on cable radio (back when no one had cable radio, and I sucked); I had begun Kenpo Karate after being away from Martial Arts for a few years; and I met a manager who was a big deal and agreed to meet with me and see where it went. He had been a Producer on The Paper Chase among other things and was managing Rob Estes (who was on Silk Stocking at the time, but went on to Melrose Place fame). I gave him the script and he asked me a simple question, "Are you an Actor, Director, Writer or Producer?" When I told him all of the above, he was not amused and told me to pick one. He told me to know who and what I was, I could do all of the above, but I could not effectively BE all of the above. To paraphrase the old Knight from the third Indiana Jones movie, I chose ... poorly. I said actor, because it was all I ever knew myself as. He set me up with a great photographer, but really didnt pursue me any longer. Unforunately, I was so full of myself as an actor and did not have the hunger which propels most actors to power through bad auditions, mean casting directors, dismissive directors and studios and producers. If I had it to do over again, I would have said producer, but it is what it is.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Part 72
The restaurant I was working at was suffering from a poor location, or so we were told, and I could not make enough money. I have always suffered under the delusion that I will have more time to look for a job when I am not employed and I ended up quitting that job just 2 short weeks before they closed. I began looking for management jobs, it was time to be responsible. I had a few interviews, but nothing panned out, and after a visit to my brother's in Santa Monica, Cathy and I decided to move to Southern California.
On June 28th, 1992, we packed up a u-haul (even throwing one of our couches away because it didnt fit) and headed down the 5 towards Los Angeles. Keep in mind, we had no idea where we were going to live. My mom had suggested that we move in together and said she was going to rent an apartment the week before. When we arrived, she acted like the conversation never happened. So, Cathy and I were standing in my Aunt Carole's house in Simi Valley with a u-haul full of our stuff and nowhere to live. Luckily, Mom went out that night and rented a 2 bedroom and we moved in.
Cathy was miserable. I spent all day with our one car (out other car was still in San Jose) looking for jobs on the west-side and Cathy was stranded, alone, at my Mom's apartment...she just hated it. We were there for just a couple of weeks when she told me and we went and rented our own one bedroom in the quaint little suburb of Brentwood. Having no money, I took a cash advance on one of those credit cards they used to send you in the mail and we were immediately in the most debt I had ever been in. In late August, we both got jobs. Cathy began working at an upscale baby-furniture store called Bellini, and I became a day server at the well-known eatery, Broadway Deli. Cathy began some classes at UCLA extension, as she transitioned to UCLA proper. I began sending headshots out to agents and different gigs I would hear about. I also began to write more, and develop ideas for shows, movies and plays. We were poor, but we didn't really know it and we were beginning this great adventure called marriage together.
On June 28th, 1992, we packed up a u-haul (even throwing one of our couches away because it didnt fit) and headed down the 5 towards Los Angeles. Keep in mind, we had no idea where we were going to live. My mom had suggested that we move in together and said she was going to rent an apartment the week before. When we arrived, she acted like the conversation never happened. So, Cathy and I were standing in my Aunt Carole's house in Simi Valley with a u-haul full of our stuff and nowhere to live. Luckily, Mom went out that night and rented a 2 bedroom and we moved in.
Cathy was miserable. I spent all day with our one car (out other car was still in San Jose) looking for jobs on the west-side and Cathy was stranded, alone, at my Mom's apartment...she just hated it. We were there for just a couple of weeks when she told me and we went and rented our own one bedroom in the quaint little suburb of Brentwood. Having no money, I took a cash advance on one of those credit cards they used to send you in the mail and we were immediately in the most debt I had ever been in. In late August, we both got jobs. Cathy began working at an upscale baby-furniture store called Bellini, and I became a day server at the well-known eatery, Broadway Deli. Cathy began some classes at UCLA extension, as she transitioned to UCLA proper. I began sending headshots out to agents and different gigs I would hear about. I also began to write more, and develop ideas for shows, movies and plays. We were poor, but we didn't really know it and we were beginning this great adventure called marriage together.
Friday, October 30, 2009
This feels like too much
To be honest, I have avoided delving into the difficulties of life this year due to a combination of depression, anxiety and downright denial. Additionally, I am more proud than I would like and I really don't want people to know how badly I have failed this year. However, in the hopes of catharsis, I will burrow through this and reveal the struggle.
This morning I woke up to realize we had $19.50 in our account and the feelings of abject failure washed over me like a huge wave. Although I can honestly say that this time it was not my fault, there have been so many times that it was my fault that I have a hard time not second guessing every decision I have ever made. HSBC is threatening to take my car and I am wondering if it wouldn't be better to just hand it over and give up the payment. The $4200 per year I spend on just the car payment could be put to better use, and I could buy something functional and cheap in a couple of months. The difficulty with this is that I can't get much of a job if I can't get around. It is a little bit of a catch 22.
The job is a whole other struggle. My business was steadily growing, but beginning in the summer of 2008, a number of deals fell apart due to lack of financing, leaving me making only 16K this year. A friend of mine who has been in commercial real estate for over 25 years and is considered pretty successful told me yesterday that he has only made 18k in the same period from commissions. Additionally, I can't even get anyone to talk with me in my job search and I have a decent resume, I am good at what I do and have a whole nest of transferable skills. I can speculate on the reasons for not getting any responses for 6-8 months, but in the end the only thing that matters is the wall of silence I face every day. Cathy's business continues to grow, and I am so grateful for that, but I am supposed to be the one making the money and taking care of responsibilities. I am so proud of her that I don't have words for how great she is, and how impressed I am everyday by both her art and her business sense. However, no matter how much she brought in, it would never be enough to help me not feel like a failure for bringing in nothing.
I do know this, that God has and will provide for us and in the end everything will be okay. But today, I feel like a total failure. Here is hoping for a better day tomorrow.
This morning I woke up to realize we had $19.50 in our account and the feelings of abject failure washed over me like a huge wave. Although I can honestly say that this time it was not my fault, there have been so many times that it was my fault that I have a hard time not second guessing every decision I have ever made. HSBC is threatening to take my car and I am wondering if it wouldn't be better to just hand it over and give up the payment. The $4200 per year I spend on just the car payment could be put to better use, and I could buy something functional and cheap in a couple of months. The difficulty with this is that I can't get much of a job if I can't get around. It is a little bit of a catch 22.
The job is a whole other struggle. My business was steadily growing, but beginning in the summer of 2008, a number of deals fell apart due to lack of financing, leaving me making only 16K this year. A friend of mine who has been in commercial real estate for over 25 years and is considered pretty successful told me yesterday that he has only made 18k in the same period from commissions. Additionally, I can't even get anyone to talk with me in my job search and I have a decent resume, I am good at what I do and have a whole nest of transferable skills. I can speculate on the reasons for not getting any responses for 6-8 months, but in the end the only thing that matters is the wall of silence I face every day. Cathy's business continues to grow, and I am so grateful for that, but I am supposed to be the one making the money and taking care of responsibilities. I am so proud of her that I don't have words for how great she is, and how impressed I am everyday by both her art and her business sense. However, no matter how much she brought in, it would never be enough to help me not feel like a failure for bringing in nothing.
I do know this, that God has and will provide for us and in the end everything will be okay. But today, I feel like a total failure. Here is hoping for a better day tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Part LXXI - seriously, I will have to give up roman numerals soon as they are becoming encumbersome
Coming home from our beautiful honeymoon to open a plethora of presents sounds more fun than it actually is. Realizing that some of your gifts are re-gifts does not sound as amuzing as it felt. All in all, we were getting into the swing of our new life together, getting to know each other in all new ways. I have to say the first time you walk in on your wife on the toilet, you know you are married, there is a familiarity that takes some getting used to and that is all I have to say about that.
Since Cathy wasn't yet twenty-one, our first foray into the world of gambling that I had known growing up was about a month after we were married, we took a trip up to Lake Tahoe for her twenty-first birthday. Cathy has no use for gambling and it took her years to get a vague impression of the dream that I enjoyed when I would gamble. I play nickel slots, I am not a huge gambler, but I love the return when you hit a big jackpot...it may only be seven dollars, but since you put in only a nickel, that is awesome. My mom always told me, you take money to spend, only a fool thinks they will win. I didn't think we would win, but I could dream about what would happen if we hit some big numbers and that was worth the 20-40 dollars I would spend when I would go. We have only ever been to a casino two other times in almost eighteen years and I actually find them seedy and gross, but I was young so I enjoyed it.
About a month after that was my twenty-fifth birthday. And now is a little harder revelation. There are a number of people who I love and respect, who let me borrow their cars over the years under the mistaken impression that I had a license, but I didn't until my 25th birthday. Although I talk a lot about the accident where I "lost my license", the truth is that I should have been jailed for not having one and the cops just let me go. The state of California revoked my ability to get a license in 1987 after my accident until I turned 25, or until I had proof of insurance which I couldn't get without a license (or so I was told). So, on March 4th 1992, I drove Cathy's car the block or two over to the Los Gatos DMV and took my driving test and got a license. Prior to this point, I had been pulled over by police for everything from standard checkpoints to wrong turns to bad tags, everytime wiggling my way out of it through false sincerity and charm. Now I actually had a license. Cathy would proceed, through a good influence and genuine love and care for me, to change my paradigm without really challenging it directly. Her goodness is a mirror for my flaws, and her love is the support I often need to change. I love her for that and many other things.
Since Cathy wasn't yet twenty-one, our first foray into the world of gambling that I had known growing up was about a month after we were married, we took a trip up to Lake Tahoe for her twenty-first birthday. Cathy has no use for gambling and it took her years to get a vague impression of the dream that I enjoyed when I would gamble. I play nickel slots, I am not a huge gambler, but I love the return when you hit a big jackpot...it may only be seven dollars, but since you put in only a nickel, that is awesome. My mom always told me, you take money to spend, only a fool thinks they will win. I didn't think we would win, but I could dream about what would happen if we hit some big numbers and that was worth the 20-40 dollars I would spend when I would go. We have only ever been to a casino two other times in almost eighteen years and I actually find them seedy and gross, but I was young so I enjoyed it.
About a month after that was my twenty-fifth birthday. And now is a little harder revelation. There are a number of people who I love and respect, who let me borrow their cars over the years under the mistaken impression that I had a license, but I didn't until my 25th birthday. Although I talk a lot about the accident where I "lost my license", the truth is that I should have been jailed for not having one and the cops just let me go. The state of California revoked my ability to get a license in 1987 after my accident until I turned 25, or until I had proof of insurance which I couldn't get without a license (or so I was told). So, on March 4th 1992, I drove Cathy's car the block or two over to the Los Gatos DMV and took my driving test and got a license. Prior to this point, I had been pulled over by police for everything from standard checkpoints to wrong turns to bad tags, everytime wiggling my way out of it through false sincerity and charm. Now I actually had a license. Cathy would proceed, through a good influence and genuine love and care for me, to change my paradigm without really challenging it directly. Her goodness is a mirror for my flaws, and her love is the support I often need to change. I love her for that and many other things.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Part LXX - a new beginning (that is just for all of you Star Wars Geeks out there)
January 3rd, 1992 came upon me rather quickly. I had a job and a life, but was fairly surprised at how weak and transparent I felt as I headed into my marriage. It was a Friday night and we were at our rehearsal for the ceremony to take place the next day. I would like to tell you all about this rehearsal, but I remember nothing about it. I do remember a few things about the "rehearsal dinner", because the groom's family is supposed to pay for that. Since my family was barely involved in my life, they had not offered to pay for anything and I had not asked. My father had opted not to come because it was a long way away and he would feel uncomfortable with the other attendees (that is what he told me, I think it probably had more to do with the costs associated with coming as the early nineties were a very hard time in his industry). Since I could not afford a dinner, My soon to be mother-in Law had allowed us to have a little dessert at her house. That night was the first time I saw my brother smoke. Having grown up in smoking households and both of us hating the smoke, it really surprised me to see him smoking (he quit in the late nineties). After the get together, I went back to the new apartment with Darin, his girlfriend Antoinette, my Mom and her husband, Ted. I did not allow smoking in my house, so Ted grabbed one of my new dishes to use as an ashtray and after lighting up inside the apartment, walked out onto the deck to soil my new dish. That guy was such a jerk.
Although it was hard to go to sleep, eventually I did and woke early to get ready for the most important day of my life. Again, I would like to relate many things about the wedding, but I remember so very few...it was a blur. Unfortunately, I do remember a few bad things. It is sad to me that this wonderful day that legally bound my beautiful Cathy to me, and all I can remember is a few bad things. Oh well. One of those things was that we waited and hour and a half after Cathy and I got to the reception for my family to arrive before eating. I did not know it at the time, but they had all stopped for a few hours at a bar for drinks...I am not kidding. So, eventually, we started without them. I am allergic to tomatoes and had made it very clear to my friend and groomsman, Steve, who had catered the food. His explanation of the tomatoes in my pasta were that they were only a garnish, showing a clear lack of understanding of the nature of food allergies...so I did not eat at the reception. When my family finally did arrive, we got to the first dance and that cherished wedding ritual, the money-dance. Except no one at our wedding danced except Cathy, myself and my Brother and Antoinette. I was counting on the money dance to pay for part of the honeymoon, but had to borrow money from my mother-in-law instead. During the wedding party dance, one of my groomsmen, Allan, refused to dance with one of the maids, because she was not his wife...no joke...what a tool.
When we had enough, we left for our overnight stay at the Fairmont in downtown San Jose. It was a relief to be out of there and I stopped thinking at all about the things that did not go well as we headed out for a full week of honeymooning. The next day we went up the coast to Mendocino county, to a little bed and breakfast in Gualala CA. It was called the Old Milano Hotel and we had rented a train caboose that was out on a cliff, high above the pacific ocean. It was beautiful, but very cold, and I had a great time. Those memories are clear and I will keep them for my honey and myself, except to say this....after all this time, if that B&B still exists, I highly recommend it. It had no TV, no radio and no heat except a wood-burning stove, so we had to get close and spend a lot of time in conversation. This set the stage for what our marriage would look like and I am blessed by this. We learned to enjoy the quiet and every once in a while, we just have to remind ourselves of that trip and we remember the quiet and the peace and the great joy of beginning our lives together.
Although it was hard to go to sleep, eventually I did and woke early to get ready for the most important day of my life. Again, I would like to relate many things about the wedding, but I remember so very few...it was a blur. Unfortunately, I do remember a few bad things. It is sad to me that this wonderful day that legally bound my beautiful Cathy to me, and all I can remember is a few bad things. Oh well. One of those things was that we waited and hour and a half after Cathy and I got to the reception for my family to arrive before eating. I did not know it at the time, but they had all stopped for a few hours at a bar for drinks...I am not kidding. So, eventually, we started without them. I am allergic to tomatoes and had made it very clear to my friend and groomsman, Steve, who had catered the food. His explanation of the tomatoes in my pasta were that they were only a garnish, showing a clear lack of understanding of the nature of food allergies...so I did not eat at the reception. When my family finally did arrive, we got to the first dance and that cherished wedding ritual, the money-dance. Except no one at our wedding danced except Cathy, myself and my Brother and Antoinette. I was counting on the money dance to pay for part of the honeymoon, but had to borrow money from my mother-in-law instead. During the wedding party dance, one of my groomsmen, Allan, refused to dance with one of the maids, because she was not his wife...no joke...what a tool.
When we had enough, we left for our overnight stay at the Fairmont in downtown San Jose. It was a relief to be out of there and I stopped thinking at all about the things that did not go well as we headed out for a full week of honeymooning. The next day we went up the coast to Mendocino county, to a little bed and breakfast in Gualala CA. It was called the Old Milano Hotel and we had rented a train caboose that was out on a cliff, high above the pacific ocean. It was beautiful, but very cold, and I had a great time. Those memories are clear and I will keep them for my honey and myself, except to say this....after all this time, if that B&B still exists, I highly recommend it. It had no TV, no radio and no heat except a wood-burning stove, so we had to get close and spend a lot of time in conversation. This set the stage for what our marriage would look like and I am blessed by this. We learned to enjoy the quiet and every once in a while, we just have to remind ourselves of that trip and we remember the quiet and the peace and the great joy of beginning our lives together.
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