I haven't heard from the woman I interviewed with a week ago last Thursday, so I'm planning on calling her tomorrow to find out if she's just very busy or if they are not going to call me back for a second interview.
Last Friday was the two-year anniversary of my getting sacked at the Hollywood Reporter. Never, never, never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would spend two years out of work, unless of my own choice. I'm beginning to believe that no one wants to hire a designer who is over 40 unless they have an avid following (and if that's the case, "who the hell needs your stinking job anyway; I've got a fan base who'll keep me in work").
One of the things that really warms my heart is when someone I know sends me a link to a job posting they think would be a good fit for me: It reminds me that family and friends are thinking about me and my predicament. Devanie, a friend of mine in Chico (previously a coworker in Arroyo Grande back in the '90s) sent me a couple today.
One of them was for the House of Blues. I worked with them a few times when I was at the Reporter, so I'm thinking perhaps that will make a difference. It would be a great gig, since their offices are on Sunset, just two blocks from the Hollywood/Vine subway station, meaning I could return to taking mass transit to work.
One of the other jobs she referred me to was in Huntington Beach, which is a 45-mile freeway commute to the south. I really want to avoid becoming one of those Southern Californians who spend 15% of their day commuting and 20% of their take-home pay funding the oil companies with all the gas they use. But if the job is a good one and the pay is reasonable, I just might have to dive into that lifestyle. It would certainly be less stressful than not having a reason to get up in the morning (except to look for work). I really miss having a career.
So from the down of marking two years of unemployment, Steve and I went out to dinner on Saturday night, which is our weekly "date night." We went to the Panda Inn (which is owned by the same company that owns Panda Express — I have a resume in with them, too). The food is excellent, the service is really friendly, the ambiance is warm and comfortable and the prices very reasonable. As usual, the place was packed and, had we not had a reservation, it would have taken us 45 minutes to get a table.
We had crab wontons (a cream cheese crab filling inside fried wontons with a sweet-and-peppery sauce), upside-down noodles and honey-walnut shrimp. I ordered a drink called a Cherry Blossom which seemed to have no alcohol in it at all, but it packed quite a punch.
Just after we had ordered, I noticed a woman in the corner booth at the end of the room who looked uncannily like Tina Fey of Saturday Night Live/30 Rock fame. At first I wasn't sure, but the more I watched her, the more her gestures and laugh seemed to match. This was my view of her, so you can get an idea how far away I was.
As we were finishing up our meal, after an hour of on-and-off staring, I could swear it had to be her. She was with a man (husband?) two young girls in their early teens (daughters?) and a slightly younger woman (the nanny?). Their waiter (the head waiter, by the way) brought out a box of designer cupcakes and they sang "Happy Birthday" to the younger girl. After getting home, I enlarged and enhanced one of the photos to see if I could discern whether or not it is really her. Here it is; see if you think it looks like her.
I was hoping that their party would leave before we did so I could get a look at her walk. I thought about going up and asking whether she was Sarah Palin (ha ha; if it was her I bet no one's come up with that one yet), but didn't have the gall to disrupt what was obviously a lovely family dinner. So Steve and I left the restaurant not knowing whether I was correct in my suspicion or not.
So we went out to the parking lot and got into the car. As we pulled out of the darkened lot, I could have sworn I saw Bigfoot walking along the side of the parking lot just in front of the landscaping of the building next door. Not believing my eyes, I took a picture. I thought perhaps it was a big dog walking upright for some reason, but Steve said it was just the parking valet on his break. Then, of course, he didn't think Tina Fey looked like Tina Fey, either. But I don't know … what do you think?