Water is for Customers Only

A ways back, pre-bankruptcy-- which makes it not far enough a ways back for me, I worked for a designer who has a boutique. And she posted this sign on her refrigerator. It was meant for me (just in case you didn't get that one) being that I was her sole employee. She paid me $10 an hour. The cost of water apparently was too rich for her blood. Still, she expected me to wear her clothes. Which meant buy her clothes ($185 per skirt -- even with my 40% discount). But here's the clincher-- she only wanted me to buy the pieces she wanted me to buy (because customers wouldn't...?). Not the ones I wanted. And might actually wear again. She also wanted me to dress in a specific style-- hers. She 's very bohemian. I'm not so much so. My make-up doesn't go with her stuff. My personality doesn't go with her stuff. But the biggest problem of all? None of my shoes went with her stuff, either. So she suggested VERY STRONGLY that I buy clogs and boots. And I did. Why? I have no clue. I just sold the boots through that ISoldit on eBay store for a whopping $86.00, $57.05 after they took their commission. The clogs? I can't give them away. And I've tried.

That was one of those jobs that I like to forget about. And pretty much had. Some strange water conversation made me think of it last night. And then thinking of that job, I remembered another one that was right on par-- working the Barney's warehouse sale at the Santa Monica Airport. I know, I know. It's exhausting enough going to the sale. What was I thinking by trying to work it? I guess, I thought, Barney's. Barney's is cool. I like Barney's. But Barney's doesn't like temps. And that's what I was. I was hired by some fly by night temp company. They had an instructional video they showed us before starting work. We had to wear tight clothing-- to deter us from stealing. We couldn't bring in purses or bags. We had to pee in port-a-potties and the only food within miles was from the snack bar which is the only place we could really go during our abbreviated breaks. $3.75 for trail mix and $1.50 for water. That meant my rate of pay was 6 and half bottles of water an hour. Then, to make matters worse, I got in trouble for constantly losing my nametag. They even threatened to charge me for it. When I just shrugged in defeat, they said they were kidding. But I didn't think they were.

I ran into an ex-boyfriend when I was working there... at the Barney's sale. And I also ran into the daughter of the crazy lady who ruined my apartment when we swapped and almost got me evicted for having dogs in there. Which I didn't know about. Her daughter? Well, she's an actress. Was on "Party of Five" during the time they lived in my place (remember that show?). And slept with her mother in my bed while she was there. And took the mattress with her when they left. And oddly enough, she was also dating my old ex-roommate who is also an actor. Her crazy mother took out a restraining order on him after her daughter and he broke up. And him? Well, he liked to tell me how he had sex in my garage. From that point forward, I didn't let anyone park in my garage. Needless to say, when I saw the crazy lady's daughter, I prayed that she didn't recognize me. It was bad enough to be wrapping her multitude of purchases. Particularly when I wanted to strangle her. Oh, those were the days. When I thought my situation would be temporary. When I thought during a casting session for my movie or TV show, she would walk in and I could turn her down. Let's be honest, if she was good, me being me? I would hire her. That's probably half my problem.

I realized last night that it's been five years since I worked on the show. Since I got water for free. Got fed for free. We used to have good meals on that show. Ordered from good restaurants. Realizing this, the five year part, I started to cry. Where did the time go? What have I been doing since then? How did this happen? I feel like I've been eating Doritos every single meal for five years, then woke up fat, wondering why. In other words, I had something to do with this. But still, I wonder why. I'm sure there's some grand plan for me. I'm sure. There has to be, doesn't there?