JUST Coffee - #6

DEAR ROW:
So as I’ve previously penned to you, I’m newly a barista. And I feel old. (Probably using the word ‘penned’ doesn’t help.) I can’t remember diddlysquat at my “I-don’t-wanna-practice-law-I wanna-be-a-playwright gig,” otherwise known as working up a funk at the coffee shop. Some things come quicker than others, but I guess that’s life, ain’t it? The owner ordered me to serve a customer, and even though he said PLEASE his tone made me want to quit; plus that PLEASE came with a pointed finger. 

Am I just sensitive, have a big ego, or feel like as a human being I shouldn’t be spoken to as if I’m three-fifths of one? I stand on the shoulders of my ancestors not beneath them, just saying. They fought for our freedom, not prolonged our oppression; and they never intended for me to get bossed around by a coffee shop overseer.

OR maybe it’s because I’m damn near thirty-one and feel as if I should not be ordered around like you would a negligent teenager. The customer will be attended to. He can wait thirty seconds for the other customer to put his flimsy recycled top on and mosey on out of the way. It’s JUST coffee. We’re not giving out emergency blood transfusions.

Maybe I’m the wrong person for the job, Row? I was just seeking something to give me some semblance of routine when I’m not interning or writing. But playwriting’s a lonely gig and you get used to the silence. The control. The calm. Working at this coffee shop is like being around other artists, on crack. Constant conversation. Constant over analyzing. Constant deep spiritual movements that are so constant they cannot be genuine. Like the same lady at church catching the Holy Ghost every Sunday. BUT I do need to be around other artists. Being a playwright is a double-edged sword...

The flip side: most of the other barista’s are gay. Some have even successfully macked on customers. (Did I just say ‘macked’?) Successful translating into the title of girlfriend-girlfriend. And many writers do camp out in coffee shops. I camp out in coffee shops. And I do feel among the transitioning. Many of my colleagues are experiencing the ‘in between’ like I am. New rule: you have to have at least one degree and working on or applying for your second degree to work at a coffee shop.

…I’ll try to humble myself, or mentally become an indentured servant, so I don’t irrationally quit the gig that is providing me with steady flows of dinero and structure. I hope you’re well, mi amiga!

Write me back,
Chanel
the decaffeinated barista

________________________________________________________________________________

DEAR CHANEL:

I mean let’s face it… you ARE old, but not in that “gimme my ginko biloba and St. John’s Wart pills...” to remember where you put your eyeglasses (duh- they're on your your head...), old. You’re old in that entry level and labor/task related jobs, aka the coffee shop, just aren’t the types of jobs you’re used to working, old.

I’ll even take it a step FURTHER and say, yes you may even be ABOVE it. Look, you went to law school, graduated (a feat in and of itself) and passed the bar on your first try… you’ve accomplished more before 30 than half the population will in their lifetimes. So yeah you forgot one PONC’s order on Monday that always comes in at 10 on the dot and you will never remember his absurdly quirky and distinct order… and that’s okay because what you actually need to remember is your below the neck worker bee gig does three things:

#1 earns you disposable income.
#2 gives your mind a reprieve from the intensity which is playwriting, letting your body do all the work for a change.
#3 exposes you to external/social stimulation because constant seclusion causes alcoholism, specifically in writers – it’s a historical fact.

In conclusion, fuck ‘em. This is why you’re at this job and who cares if people assume that you’re some loser who attempted another path in life and this coffee gig isn’t a choice it’s a consequence of necessity… you can’t worry about that. Just smile, serve ‘em a hot cup ‘o joe and get that dollar tip, girl! Think of it as research, you can always write these folks in as characters in your next story! Or you can write an authentic barista scene because you’re living it. Good writers write authentic experiences… use this as material to craft an authentic human interaction.

While you’re at it I’ll take a medium chai latte, 2%, extra hot… Thanks, kid. ;-)

--Row

The Meet & Greet - #5

DEAR CHANEL:

Being in a new city creates opportunities for new interactions, right now I want to talk about the interview process. It’s like going on a date but without the benefits of a hot meal and the tension of the goodnight kiss… but all the same anxiety and fear of judgment.

So I had an interview today with two young women, who are in the beginning stages of starting up a small prodco. They’re looking for a director – the first job that actually requires me to use my degree and is (at least I feel) a worthy job title for what I’m looking to actually do in this business.

The interview was easy, light and fun… which usually is how my interviews go. I (albeit cockily) firmly believe that if I can score an interview I’m pretty much a lock OR a solid candidate in the running. Whether it’s a cold interview or one I prep for, depending on how much I care really – I’m usually on point. A good friend of mine told me I just know what to say and I say it well… which hopefully is a good thing?

Overall I’m excited about this new prospect and a few days short of a full month of being into town it’s nice to have something like this come up. Of course there’s no pay… yet. But the creative opportunity is HUGE and making friends and building a really cool working relationship with some actors and artists in my age and professional range is really exciting. Let’s put it this way… the interview went so well that I didn’t mind the 50 minute, 12 mile drive home in the middle of rush hour at 5pm on the 101 freeway, northbound…. Which if you know me, and you do – I HATE traveling in traffic. LA Traffic needs it’s own letter, which may come in the near future should I feel up for the challenge of giving the post the attention it deserves – or am mad enough. Let’s leave it at this, I just imagine that everyone has the legal permission to purchase and consume medical marijuana and are all driving under the influence… when I look at it like that: the delayed break pedal reactions, inability to merge, slow speed and sheer unawareness that there is, yes in fact, an entire world of people outside of them in their fancy German sports car ALSO sharing the road and attempting to get home in one piece in a timely manner, all make sense and in fact I’m actually more lenient of the drivers when I just imagine them all stupid high (legally of course). Being in the thick of this gridlock made me feel like part of the working machine of the town, like I was becoming a part of something bigger in town where loneliness rivals the solitude that NYC creates.

I should know next week what the deal is… which is just like sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring after an amazing date, isn’t it?

Anxious and hopeful

--Row

_________________________________________________________________________________

DEAR ROW:

We are absolutely total opposites when it comes to interviewing. I would expect nothing less than for you to nail every interview you go on. I imagine you high-fiving your future employer as you walk out; they go that superbly. You, my sister-in-the-FWP-struggle, have the marvelous gift of gab, and the talent to back your loquacity up.

Seriously. When you were in Los Angeles interning last spring, how many internships did you have? In a three month span? It’s not will you get the internship, it’s when will you get it? And that’s normally on Los Angeles time.

I, however, can never shake the awkwardness off of my being. I stumble over my words. I talk in circles. I forget the strength of my vocabulary. I pretty much talk like a six-year old. BUT a sincere six-year old. It feels more like a pedophilic dating process, than like an adult one. Which is all kinds of wrong.

I hope you’re not waiting by the phone or computer. I know that’s the inevitable after a first interview or date. But as soon as you take your mind off of it, move on to another activity (whatever that activity may be), that’s when you get the call, or the email.

You already know this. Good things deserve some repeating.

TWO SNAPS for when you do get that call.

Write me back,
Chanel
your sister-in-the-FWP-struggle

The In-tern, ESQ - #4

DEAR ROW:

Even though I’m getting it from the front and the back, not literally, I know where your mind goes, I know I’m supposed to be in theater. But like you, I wrestle with being an intern. Yes, it was a genius excuse to get away from grad school for one semester, and small town Athens, OH. But…But I’m 30! And while I never thought I would be both a barrister and a barista, I just certainly never imagined I would ever be an intern at this age.

How does a thirty-year old intern address oneself? Do they say intern? Do they actually say
in-tern? I’m as modest as they come. I’m like a modest mouse, not the band. You know this,
Row. I hide when anyone gives me a compliment, even if it’s complimenting a shirt that I in
no way possible flew to India to make. But saying intern is like me turning into a Japanese
samurai just to perform seppuku. It. Literally. Kills. My. Soul. It’s like denying all of my
education and experience. It’s self-belittling. Okay. There’s definitely some ego involved in
that too, Row. I want people to know that I am a lawyer. I passed the Illinois bar. And this
is MY CHOICE. If I could wear a sweater that said, “This is MY CHOICE,” and on the back it
listed my education, I would. Would wear it proudly.

But despite the soul killing, my internship affords me backstage passes to the production of
a wonderful play: The Convert, by Zimbabwean actress and playwright, Danai Gurira. Kick-ass Michonne on The Walking Dead, Danai Gurira. No, I still have not watched this television show, Row, and probably never will. But this play. This play actually makes me question my submission to Christianity. Even though I have one foot in Jesus’s blood and the other in common sense, I still questioned my wavering belief in the Bible after reading her play. And if a play can make you do that, I want to write. I want to write plays that will make people question their ego, their submissions, their perceptions, their racism, their stereotypes, their greed, their blissful blindness... This internship is giving me a reason to believe playwriting can actually be a suitable avenue for advocacy. And that I might have just made the right CHOICE.

So call me intern. Go ahead, Row. Just say it. I’ll say it. I am an intern.

Write me back,

Chanel

the intern, ESQ.

________________________________________________________________________________

DEAR CHANEL, The Intern, ESQ:

Shall I refer to you as such henceforth? I don’t mind. It seems pretty fucking cool because it’s like the lowest rung and the upper echelon of professions all wrapped into one nifty title. I also slightly resent the fact that you believe my mind is always in the gutter – while, yes I do tend to rent a villa in the gutter, most of the time I sublet it and only use it as a vacation home … but I won’t lie I totally thought about sex when you said you were getting it from both ends… haha.

At the end of the day whatever your title is… you’re making a lateral jump in careers – it’s
the ladder theory. Because of this we must ‘pay our dues’ (I hate that phrase) and start at
some point. So checking the ego at the door and working your way up by building rapport and connections is something you need to do. Break it down this way: You spent four years in undergrad another three in law school then what? Two more as a practicing lawyer? That’s a total of NINE years of hard work… you’re in your third year of graduate school… you might as well be a junior in college the way the world sees you.

Sure, you have transferable skills that make you more that just some youngbuck intern – but
you’re inexperienced, not published, not produced and you haven’t sold anything… so you’re an intern. It is what it is. It is also your choice and who cares what other people may think. As long as you keep in mind that your potential for growth is infinite and you keep working hard and grinding away you’ll soon be interviewing interns to replace you! Use it for what you can and don’t get too bogged down by the label, I know we’re gay… it’s hard for us, but “labels are for jars, not people” (another phrase I hate). See this as an opportunity to make mistakes, learn and reap access to free shows and contacts.

Keep on freeloading because we both know you ain’t getting paid!

--Row

"EXEC ASSIST" - #3

DEAR CHANEL:

I have managed to get a job… rather let’s call it a ‘gig’ for now because I’m not quite sure what else to classify it. It started out as an “executive helper” but has now evolved in the span of just two weeks… still the same pay and rate but I’ve become responsible for finding interns for other tasks and I’ve been given an email address and access to other projects and some development/pitch work… basically I’m transitioning into a creative position – which is nice. I guess. The BossMan dude said he would like to hire someone full time but wants to wait until the revenue stream is more consistent before doing so… but I don’t know, we’ll see. Not sure that I’ll be around when that happens.

I guess it’s a good thing that BM #1 thinks this, and to be honest if he didn’t live so damn close to me I’m not sure I’d be so apt to work for him. I am making some pocket change and I’m doing something… which beats being depressed lying on my futon in my pajamas at 2PM playing bingobash on my iPad. BUT it also makes me wonder what am I getting out of it? Like seriously what exactly am I GETTING OUT OF THIS? Initially it was about the money but since there’s really no money, I’m starting to understand that this is MY career and I’m in control. While yes, a lot about this business – particularly on my side of the country – is about someone else validating your skills in so far as enough to label you officially as that which you THINK you might be and provide financial reimbursement for your services for that validation.

For example:
Actors: are you an actor if you take class after class and work on monologues daily but don’t get cast? No, you’re still just a waitress… at the end of the day.

Comedians: are you a comedian if you don’t get booked for a show and get $20 for your five min set? No, you’re still just a Barnes & Noble drone.

Writers: are you a writer if you spend six hours a day rewriting drafts of your pilot and no one has read it, repped it, or tried to sell it? No, you’re still just a barista.

So my question is: am I a writer/director/producer? Or am I just an exec assist at the end of the day, and if so do I like that? Is that what moving out here was about? Am I proud of that absurd title? Do I want to sit at Thanksgiving dinner and tell relatives that that’s my job title in the big, bad, H-Wood?

Of course not, I moved here to get staffed on a show, become a legitimately paid and employed writer whose work gets produced and aired on TV. That’s what moving here is about.

Thoughts?

--Row

_________________________________________________________________________

DEAR ROW:

I have to completely disagree with you about labels. And I hate labels. So I’m not even going to identify my calling as a label. If you have a gift for writing and you are actively writing, you are a writer. If you have a gift in acting and you are actively pursuing acting, you are an actor. And so on. I don’t even believe the ‘actively’ is necessary to identify yourself as such.

I was a writer, even while I was in law school trapped under Contracts and Civil Law books. Those suckers are heavy as hell. I am a writer, even though I find myself slowly beginning to become fond of my new coffee shop gig. I am a writer, even if upon graduation I go back to law, or work at Home Depot. I will always be a writer because that is my calling.

Will I ever be a famous writer? A working writer? A published writer? If I never do, I am still a writer. I’m not even an aspiring writer. I am a writer. I don’t have to aspire to be something that is ‘God’-given. I have to hone my talent, of course. I have to find and fine-tune my voice, sure. Being a writer is like being a singer. A singer knows they’ve been given the gift of music. Whether or not they choose that path, they will always be a singer… Writing has been following me around like a ghost ever since I was a freshman in high school. (Maybe sooner, but my memory is a goner.) What could that be, if not a calling? I was a writer even in high school.

Row, if you feel like you have been called to be a writer, director and producer, then you ARE a writer, director and producer. Sounds a little Whoopi Goldberg to Lauryn Hill in Sister Act 2, I know. But if you don’t identify as such, no one else will. (This all feels a little hypocritical, as I struggle daily with calling myself a playwright because I feel my work does not ‘align’ with the dominating theater culture. I should care not.)

The question really comes down to: what do you feel like you have been called to do? I know I’m getting all effing spiritual and crap. But I have to believe I’m in this hard knock industry for reasons larger than making more cliché work, putting more PONC on television/stage, or perpetuating stereotypes. I have to believe that I’m in this industry to “break media,” as the fearless Kanye West says. (I’m not obsessed with him, I promise. But ya gotta respect his fearlessness, even if foolish at times.)

The gig you currently have seems to be affording you the creative responsibility you’re craving and might be helping to define your goals in the industry. I’m happy it was convenient for you to travel to because it’s these quirky ‘small’ roles we play that help us get to the bigger ones. (I sound like a hallmark card. I’ll stop.)

OH. The manager’s list. Stalk them. Gotta do something uncomfortable to get something great. (And I don’t mean sleeping your way to the bullshit top.)

Write me back,
Chanel

your spiritual guru :)