It was late on a Thursday night that I found myself pounding on
the door of a closed Starbucks, desperately trying to convince the
store’s employees, who were still inside cleaning, to open
up.
No, I wasn’t suffering from caffeine withdrawal. Only an
hour before, I had carted away close to 100 assorted coffee and
espresso drinks from the very same shop. The diligent Starbucks
crew had done a stellar job filling the order, too, so I
wasn’t there to file a complaint. And given my strict
adherence to a Ghandi-like pacifism, I can assure you I was not
attempting to rob the place at gunpoint, either.
The sad truth behind my after-hours presence at the
mass-purveyor of stimulants came out as soon as the puzzled
assistant manager opened the door. The director of photography on
the television show for which I was working as a lowly production
assistant had demanded that I not return to the set without a
decaf, non-fat hazelnut latte. We had accidentally brought him one
with vanilla.
Embarrassing stories like mine about being at the whim of
massive egos are by no means new. Urban legends abound about which
producers are the most terrifying, which actors are the biggest
divas, and which companies don’t bother to include their
assistants on the invite lists for their best parties.
One disgruntled former assistant, George Huang, managed to turn
his experience working for one of Hollywood’s most notorious
and most successful problem producers into a screenplay. However
the subsequent film, 1994’s “Swimming with
Sharks,” apparently failed to instill an appropriate amount
of fear in an acquaintance of mine, who accepted a position as an
assistant to the very same producer a few months ago.
With its proximity to the film industry and reputation for
having trained more than just a paltry number of superstar actors,
directors and screenwriters, UCLA no doubt turns out a small army
of eager young graduates each year who would give anything to land
an entry-level position in the entertainment business.
My own experience as a college drop-out lucky enough to have
landed a few jobs in the business did not, contrary to my
masochistic acquaintance, leave me begging for more abuse. My
decision to enroll at UCLA and finish my degree after a little over
a year of working in television probably speaks for itself.
Of course, not every aspect of that year was a nightmare. I did
make a number of new friends, I learned more than I ever wanted to
know about document distribution, and I ended up with a closet-full
of embroidered hats and backpacks that my friends have been kind
enough to accept as birthday gifts.
But to those of you heading out into the world this week after
four cushy years in academia, beware. If the words
“I’ll do anything as long as it’s in the
entertainment business” have recently left your enthusiastic
lips, double beware.
When comparing the quality of my life between working as the
lowest person on the totem pole to my current scholastic endeavors,
I have no hesitation in my reply: The student’s life is far
superior.
So go back, all you starry-eyed graduates! Get your masters and
your Ph.D., start your own business, and if you absolutely have to
make films to be happy, then make one of your own. And if you still
think five or six years of assistant work before being promoted to
associate producer is the career you’ve always dreamed of,
remember to leave a tip the next time you go to Starbucks. You
never know when you might have to produce a hazelnut latte at 10
o’clock at night.
Mathis can be found praying that if she ever decides to get
another job in television, none of her former bosses will have read
this column. E-mail her at smathis@media.ucla.edu.