L.A. Stories- Treachery and the UTA Joblist

By now, any one following these notes should understand that the UTA Joblist is a cruel hoax perpetrated against newcomers and people who can read. However, in my early days as a Los Angelean, I fell prey to it time and time again, because it never occurred to me that people outside of themeparks would advertise for a job that was already filled.
So, once again, the joke was on me when I received a response to my cover letter and resume. I'd applied for the PAYING job of "Executive Assistant" at a "Boutique Talent Agency" in "Beverly Hills." The job required a college degree, some experience within the industry, and a working car. Perfect!
A man named X called me back, and told me that he'd like to interview me for the Executive Assistant position, but first I needed to submit some samples of my writing to his agency. Not a problem. He also emailed me a 12-page long criminal background check form, and asked me to fill it out. He explained that he was the "executive," and that boutique agency" in this case meant working out of his house. Which was not exactly in Beverly Hills, but, whatever, right? A job's a job. And a PAYING job in this town, when everyone else wants me to intern for free? Well! I will gladly submit to a criminal background check...
Hey. Wait a minute- why does he need my mom's maiden name, every school I ever went to, my SSN, my DL#, every job I've ever worked EVER... My employer's addresses? What the Eff???
I smelled a rat, and asked him why he needed such personal information- I felt that a professional criminal background check would see if I had a jail record, not analyze my DNA.
I called him and said that I was uncomfortable faxing over such personal information, and he said, "hey, d'ya want the job or don't you?" Hmm. Now I'm not so sure. A red flag went up when I googled this guy and couldn't find a THING. Jay tried to find him online and also met with no sucess- all we found was a vague business listing- even I leave a bigger web trail than this- it's weird and spooky.
I asked Jay's Aunt and Uncle and they got a friend who works for Sony to do a little digging, and she emailed me a list of X's clients, and vetting him as "legit."
I IMDB'd each and every client, and found the most successful of them to be one of the 15 writers who worked on "Kung Fu Panda." Hmm.
Well, I did indeed need a job, and I had no other options, so I (per his request) faxed him the 17 pages of criminal background check and samples. It cost me $24 I really didn't have, but I did it anyway.
A couple of days after the fax, he called me on a Saturday night and asked to set up a meeting on Monday for the interview in his basement. Ugh. Another red flag- I pictured the interview being him lowering a questionaire down to me in a basket while I threaten to hurt his dog if he doesn't hire me. Off to a great start already. He reminded me not to be late; that his time was important. Yeah. Got it. This ain't my first rodeo- remember, I'd already been burned by Celebrity X.
The next day was Sunday, and I was surprised when he called me again. I was anticipating that he wanted to change the time, but instead he asked if we could set the interview u at 10AM.
"Um, sure- didn't we already set it up for 10AM?"
"Hunh?"
"I thought you'd called me yesterday and asked for a 10AM interview..."
There's this long pause- then he says:
"My stupid assistant forgot to take it off the call sheet! Fine 10AM. Don't be late."
Click.
Awesome. This guy blames his own mistakes on his assistants. Yikes.
So, fully anticipating some sort of weirdness, I asked Jay to come with me. We both get up earrrrly and fight horrific traffic from Long Beach to Hollywood, (read: NOT BEVERLY HILLS) where I ring the man's doorbell and a woman answers carrying I SHIT YOU NOT the dog from "The Silence of the Lambs."
I am so ready for this interview.
She's confused; why am I there? Oh! X! JXxxxx!!! Would I go down and wait in the basement?
I certainly would.
A good 25 minutes later, (LATE,) X finds his way to the basement and seems utterly surprised that we have an interview set up. His basement is full of dusty art his children drew years ago. There is a cold metal desk which looks somewhat functional, and on the other side of a wall is an "Executive Assistant" desk. It is really crappy and possibly assembled by the same children who created the macaroni art.
X starts out the interview by going into great detail about what a loser he is- a surprising gambit!
He talked AT me for a good 10 minutes, making no efforts to conceal the constant lowering of his gaze to my cleavage.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am a B-cup. There's nothing special here. Yet somehow, he could not keep his eyes away from them- it was weird- I've never encountered this before in my life- not at Mardi Gras, not at liquor promos, not at Halloween Horror Nights- this guy has to be some sort of world-class boob-obsessor if he can't match my gaze for a full 20 seconds. I was pretty uncomfortable at this point, but I was bewildered and fascinated as to why he kept talking about himself during my interview. In fact, he didn't ask me one thing. And he hadn't bothered to look at either my resume or the criminal background form. $24 well spent. Sigh.
He talked for 10 minutes, explaining why he got "let go" from William Morris and why the office he'd been renting asked him to leave. He explained that he needed me to fill in for his current assistant who was beginning to need to take days off. I would work 3 days a week, 9-7 in his basement. And any other days he needed. And a few weekends.
When I asked what kind of compensation I could expect, he explained that since I'd never worked for an office before I wasn't qualified to be paid, but if I worked well for him, in three months he would write me a nice letter of recommendation.
I was a little surprised, since the position was advertised as paid, and since I'd worked for EFFING SESAME STREET. I asked if he'd "had the opportunity" to look at my resume, and he said no. I showed him that I'd worked at numerous offices. He said, "yes, but he's used to having 150 assistants at his beck and call, trained to cater to him specifically." And maybe he was, at William Morris. But I couldn't afford to work for free. So I asked him if I could instead serve as a reader, and in my spare time do coverage on his scripts for him. This way I could get more experience as a reader and it would free up his assistant. He said yes, that would be fine. But he said it while staring at my boobs. Weird!
On my way out, I asked him if he was interested in reimbursing me for the $24 I'd spent faxing him paperwork. He seemed genuinely panicked and said, "No! NO! I can't do that! Do you know how expensive that would be?"
I told him, "Yes. Twenty-five dollars."
I requested that he relinquish the faxes to me since I wouldn't be working in his home, and I left, expecting to never hear from him again.
Two weeks later he randomly called to tell me that he wanted to keep his precious script submissions "in house," (meaning, in this case, his basement) and that he couldn't have me read unless I was there physically reading them. I said no thank you and hung up. Surely that was the last of him, right?
No!
At my fully legitimate unpaid internship in the legitimate basement of a legitimate company later, I would hear stories of multiple interns who get suckered in by this guy- they always fax, and then he'll eventually tell them that they're not qualified to be his PAID intern, but they could assist and get a letter.
Bastard.
I wonder how may cumulative hours of jobhunting he's usurped from Los Angeles' unemployed.
I still get the UTA Joblist sent to me. Friends with good intentions will send it my way once a week. And every week, there it is: PAID EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT AT BOUTIQUE AGENCY IN BEVERLY HILLS. CONTACT X
Don't do it. Or if you do, be prepared to grab his dog and hold on tight while he stares at your boobs.

L.A. Stories- Heartbreak, L.A.-style

My friend Todd has made "Them's The Breaks!" his mantra when things don't go the way he'd planned. He bases this off of a cartoon he read as a young boy. The character in the cartoon threw up his hands and absolved himself of responsibility, and instantly felt better about the hand he'd been dealt. This mentality works exceptionally well for Todd. I wish it worked for me, too, because it would make bullshit like this a little more bearable...
Here is the story of my very first heartbreak in LA:
My first month here, I spent a large portion of time and energy emailing out personalized, individually-tailored cover letters and resumes to jobs advertising on the UTA Joblist. For those of you who don't know, the United Talent Agency's Joblist is an "insider" email which has all of the available positions within each agency advertised. If an Executive Assistant moves up a ladder rung, his desk becomes open. Any open Mail Room slots are advertised. Also, actual Executive jobs and Agency Training positions are posted as well.
Here is what is looks like:

Executive Assistant Needed at Boutique Talent Agency!
Wanted: fast-learning college grad with Mac skills, capable of dealing with "personalities," must have own car and knowledge of players. Reply to asstjob9@yahoo.whatever

If you're new in town, you don't realize that the entire list is a hoax. And you have no idea which agency is placing the ad because they keep it anonymous. So you write a cover letter like this:
To Whom it May Concern,
I'm an amazing fast-learning grad from College X, and I dealt with this (name drop) and I know the game, because I learned from driving my car which I own to all the player's houses to fix their Macs! Please hire me!

Then you sit and wait, and NOTHING HAPPENS, because what no one tells you is that this list is only put out because it's required by law to advertise for open positions. The position of Executive Assistant went to the Junior Executive Assistant. His position was filled by some producer's cousin's little league pal's dad's bartender's dealer's roommate, and the guy in the mail room gets shafted. No mailroom position is open. They are lying.

So you can imagine my surprise when one day, while on the set of Iron Man II, "Iron Boogaloo," I was called by a receptionist at Odenkirk-Provissiero, who told me that "Naomi liked your resume and wants to meet you." None of that meant anything to me, but I played along like it was the only job I'd ever applied for in my life, and agreed to come in for an interview the next day.

The receptionist emailed me directions, and I used her email address' domain name to figure out where I was going. And then I crapped myself a little:
Odenkirk-Provissiero is a new talent AND literary agency which caters specifically to comedic network writers and actors. They do pretty much everyone from SNL. The "Naomi" of which she spoke is Naomi Odenkirk- Bob Odenkirk's wife. Bob Odenkirk writes and stars in "Mr. Show," and Naomi writes and produced "Mr. Show." They have their hands in all that is funny and good on TV. They are the reason I came out here.
So I called in to Iron Man II that following day so I could interview, although I still wasn't sure what I was interviewing for.
I dressed up and drove from Long Beach to Hollywood, and was admitted into a small studios lot- my first time past a studio security gate where it wasn't a theme park!
I waited and watched as a chubby sweaty girl left the office I was headed towards- she looked upset. I knew she was the girl slotted ahead of me. I began to panic.
I said, "how'd it go?" She shook her head at me.
"Good luck," she lied.
I went in and met with Naomi and her Assistant, and we totally clicked- it was a flawless interview- the kind where everything I said was perfect and charming and encouraged them to ask more questions until we're all laughing together over something I said.
I was Charmed that day, and left the office feeling Snakes on A Plane. I got a hearty handshake and a "we'll call you." And I thought they would!
Lo and behold, they DID!
The next day, I was called by the Assistant and asked if I would consider being X's personal assistant. X is a fairly popular (High B-List) comedic actress on a #1 hit show. She's been in a few successful movies, and is known for being really cool and nice.
Naomi thought I'd be a good match for her, and told me she wanted to set up an interview at X's house so I could meet X and her fiance'. The assistant told me it'd be around 50K/yr and benefits. Needless to say, I was absolutely on cloud 9.
X was filming, so I had to wait 2 weeks. During that time, I served as a personal assistant to my Set Dresser, and cleaned spider webs out of her shoes, dreaming of the day I could help X pick out Manolos for the Red Carpet. The two weeks dragged by, and I lightly googled X so I could be conversant on things that were going on in her career, but I didn't go TOO into detail because I didn't want to be too much of a fan. I sweated. God, did I sweat. This job would be the answer to any and all of my problems at once!
The day before the interview, Naomi's assistant called and asked if they could change the time to the evening. No problem. She called again and asked if they could rearrange and bump it up one hour. Again, no problem. She called the third time to place the interview time at 5PM. For sure. Was that a problem? Hell no. The morning of the interview, she called again and asked if they could make it 11AM.
I threw on my clothes, raced through makeup and was in my car on the 101 when I got another phone call from Naomi's assistant. I answered, thinking it was going to be like the others, but sadly, it wasn't.
"X has changed her mind, and she really doesn't want a personal assistant at this time... Maybe in a couple of months, maybe in November?"
It was June. Fuck.
"Oh! Yeah! Sure, sure- no problem!"
But it was a problem. It was a big, devastating problem.
So I pulled over and cried, like any responsible heartbroken girl would do.
Then I called Central Casting to see if they had any work for that day. They didn't.
"Them's the breaks!" But these breaks hurt like a motherfucker.