I freaked out after I left the boss-man's company. I was semi-jobless again. I tried to see if I could ever survive on $1,400 a year with my other internet job. No dice according to the parental units.
I talked to a few people and googled here and there and found a temp agency that catered to entertainment companies. I sent my resume. I was startled to see that they had asked me to come in for an interview, not only because the writer's strike was in full-force, but because they addressed me as "Maria" in the email.
The day of my interview was the one day a year when the weather decides to go all New Jersey on us and give the "native" residents of Los Angeles a reminder of what a drizzle actually is.
Probably two drops of rain fell upon the entire city. However, that did not keep LA residents from leaving their houses and apartments completely prepared with galoshes, raincoats, umbrellas, and canoes.
Wearing a white shirt and velvet shoes, I entered the temp agency in a big building in West Hollywood. As I got off the elevator, I checked in with the receptionist who asked me, "How horrible is it out there?" By this point, the only precipitation outside was the piss coming out of a homeless man in the alley.
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