Finding a job

I think one of the hardest things about Los Angeles is finding a job. I think this for two reasons.

1) The constant sun. Where I am from sunny gorgeous cloudless days are in the minority. At first when I was here I would run to get outside, because I always thought that the sun would go away. It is so easy to just want to go to the beach and do nothing.
2) You have to be proactive. Not just proactive like you are used to, but basically you have to be a stalker out here if you want to get a job. It is frustrating and disheartening.

Remember this one thing if you want to work out here in any capacity. Calling and leaving a message does not work. You have to call at random times to actually get in touch with the person you want to talk to, because if you don’t get them physically you are left to the whim that they will call you back. Which they wont, because you are one of 50 people who have left messages about a job at the same place.

My Los Angeles job story, might not be typical, but here it is:
I already had an in at a temp agency, which I was really excited about. She assured me that I would have no problem finding a job through her agency because jobs were coming up like crazy.

In a month and a half I had only two jobs.

The first doing random office tasks for a Persian family. My jobs included writing a letter of eviction for one of the tenants living at one of their properties, writing a letter to their clients and trying desperately to help a 40 year old woman set up a mail merge who had never even used word before. For 4 hours I sat in this disorganized back room with a two women who chain smoked with a yippy dog.

The second I worked an evening at UCLA for a magazine that teamed up with a sports company for a collaborative event that they were having for students. When they wanted to know my sizes I was a bit leery. I thought at the most I would get a pair of shoes and a t-shirt.

Well, in addition to rep-ing this magazine, I was also rep-ing the new danceline for the sports company as well. So instead of a pair of shoes, I had to wear tight spandex bell bottom dance pants, a see through tank top with a gypsy-esque crop-top.

So, I had to prance around getting people to sign up for a magazine in these super tight clothes. The thing was that I was never told that I would be wearing these clothes and I began to wonder what I had ever done to my friend at the temp agency to deserve this evening of looking like a pussycat doll for a measly $50.

Go ahead and laugh, I give you permission.

All and all I got $200 worth of sports apparel out of the deal. The girl I worked with said that she was going to try to return it to a store to see if she could get some money out of it to pay her bills.

I on the other hand have kept the clothes as a reminder of how far I have come in the last year and a half that I have been here.