Will Work For Food – In Hollywood, That’s A Job Description

Los Angeles takes some getting used to. I like the sun, I like being close to the beach, and I love having sushi delivered right to my door. In Idaho, I couldn’t even get pizza. I lived too far outside the delivery zone, i.e., way out in Ass End, Egypt.

There’s a lot to love about L.A. I’d heard horror stories about the crime and the smog, but so far, neither has been a problem. I go out for a jog every evening, and I come back safe and asthma-free. Okay, that could be because I’m staying in sweet, tame, Armenian Glendale, but why be fussy? Los Angeles officially begins two blocks from here, just past the Chevron station, so cut me some slack. This ain’t Compton, but then I’m not Snoop Dogg – a tragedy for the both of us. I’m sure he dreams of being a 41-year-old white woman from Raleigh, N. C. Then he – I mean she – could rap about Krispy Kreme doughnuts. That would give new meaning to Drop It Like It’s Hot.

What’s not so cool about L.A.? This is without question the most self-regarding, self-congratulatory city I’ve ever visited. Nowhere else even comes close. London? Too old and too gritty to take itself seriously. Paris? Too jaded. New York? Surprisingly friendly – a collection of small villages that comprise an appealing whole.

Washington, D.C. comes close. There is no self-love like political onanism, but politicians are regularly and publicly brought low. One day, you’re spouting off about morality and family values; the next, a prostitute is discussing your little bitty penis in Hustler. When you’re caught with a hooker in Los Angeles, you go into rehab for 17 days, and bang! You’re back on the A-list. Out here, rehab is like penicillin or the Salk vaccine. It’s a miracle cure for whatever ails you, everything from drunk driving to a video of your bare butt on BustedCelebrity.com.

But the most amazing thing to me about Los Angeles is the television and movie industry job listings. I’m a writer. I’m not Stephen King or Anne Rice, so I don’t make a hell of a lot of money, but I do all right – well enough that when I’m paging through a site like Mandy.com, I’m astonished by the number of listings that offer the thrill of working for no, low, or deferred pay. Where I come from, homeless people stand on street corners and under highway overpasses holding signs that say “Will work for food.” In Hollywood, people apply for those positions.

Go on! Have a look! Click on the links for production assistants and see how many producers, directors, and other industry folk offer you, dear college graduate – preferably with 1-3 years of relevant experience – the opportunity to work long hours for self-important assholes while earning nothing more than the promise of a shrimp cocktail and some pineapple chunks. And that’s if you’re lucky. On an indie production, you might just get an In-and-Out burger. One of the small, cheap ones. No French fries.

Before anyone writes to tell me that “this is how you get experience,” or “this is how you make connections,” or “this is how you build your resume,” I’d like to say that this is how you get exploited. This is how you learn to suck up. This is the beginning of the self-important assholery that plagues this city. You start as the omega dog, and you learn to aspire to be alpha bitch.

That’s why I prefer New York. Sure, Andrea Sachs gets kicked around by Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, but she also gets a paycheck. Correct me if I’m wrong, but have you ever met a publishing assistant who got paid in cheese logs?

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