Fashionably Lame: Finding The Wrong Film Job in New York

temp-jobs
When I was in college I used to go on random interviews for short term film editing jobs. I figured any kind of experience would be great to put on my resume. Would anyone  know it was editing for dog porn.  (JK)  My main problem going into these interviews was that about half way though, I would find something I didn’t like about this production house and the rest of the interview was just me thinking “Dear lord are we done yet?”

One particular interview I had in the Meat Packing District of Manhattan was terrible in a stellar way.  It was for some kind of fashion company, they were looking for someone to edit their videos of models.  Which, if I had read the ad carefully before I agreed to the interview, would not have been a surprise to me. It was in one of those buildings that was under renovation so the elevator I took to the 8th floor might as well have been a string attached to a box. It had that gross padding draped on the walls. There was colorful language scribbled all over the padding. I say this because there were cuss words of all kinds, but also because they were written in a rainbow array of sharpies.  I got off on the 8th floor and made my way down a creepy looking hallway. I would not be surprised at this point if I was murdered. It would be my own fault for not reading the ad correctly. I knocked on the door of the suite and when it opened I went snow blind for a minute. It was a wall to wall white painted fashion studio. The floor was white, the desk was white, the receptionist was white. The florescent lighting was illuminating my acne scars. It looked as though it had snowed on the sun. And I knew instantly, this was not going to go well. I stood in front of the beautiful blonde receptionist sweating in my black pants and New York and Company button down blouse.  A tall dapper man soon appeared and introduced himself as the head of the studio.  “So you’ve had some experience editing work for your own reel? How much do you know about fashion?” 

“Almost nothing.” I responded. To my credit, no one could ever say I wasn’t honest on an interview.  

“Right…well let’s take a look at your reel then.” The dapper man says as he pulls up my vFashionably Lame by Christina Cola

When I was in college I use to go on random interviews for short term film editing jobs.  I figured any kind of experience would be great to put on my resume. No one had to know it was editing for dog porn.  (It wasn’t but even a job like that would have been a step up at the time)  My main problem going into these interviews was that about half way though I would find something I didn’t like about this production house and the rest of the interview was just me thinking “Dear lord are we done yet?” I couldn’t even tell you what half the places wanted from me because I would just stop listening. One particular interview I had in the Meat Packing District of Manhattan was terrible in such a stellar way.  It was for some kind of fashion company, they were looking for someone to edit their videos of models.  Which, if I had read the ad carefully before I agreed to the interview, would not have been a surprise to me on arrival.  It was in one of those buildings that was under renovation so the elevator I took to the 8th floor might as well have been a string attached to a box.  It had that gross padding draped on the walls. There was colorful language scribbled all over the padding. I say this because there were cuss words of all kinds but also because they were written in a rainbow array of sharpies.  I got off on the 8th floor and made my way down a creepy looking hallway.  I would not be surprised at this point if I was murdered. It would be my own fault for not reading the ad correctly.  I knocked on the door of the suite and when it opened I went snow blind for a minute. It was a wall to wall white painted fashion studio. The floor was white, the desk was white, the receptionist was white. The florescent lighting was illuminating my acne scars no doubt. It looked as though it had snowed on the sun.  And I knew instantly, this was not going to go well. I stood in front of the beautiful blonde receptionist sweating in my black pants and New York and Company button down blouse.  A tall dapper man soon appear and introduced himself as the head of the studio.  

“So you’ve had some experience editing work for your own reel? How much do you know about fashion?” 

“Almost nothing.” I responded. To my credit, no one could ever say I wasn’t honest on an interview.  

“Right…well lets take a look at your reel then.” The dapper man says as he pulls up my vimeo page.  He asked to see my best work so of course I picked a sketch that I wrote, filmed, and edited.  He could probably care less about the writing but I figured he might like the way I pieced together a semi storyline. Because if there’s one thing I know about fashion shows, it’s that they always have a great plot.  He sat there and watched my two minute sketch in dead silence. Not a single laugh at the sketch. I kept glancing at him to make sure he was even breathing.  I wondered if he could see the sweat through my shirt yet.

Finally he stands and says “Okay, we’ll let you know thanks for coming in.” He tries to make his tone as optimistic as possible.

“Thank you!” I respond, in a way that says someone please kill me.  He shakes my sweaty hand and I leave the murder building. 
Since then I’ve read every job posting super carefully and then had someone else read it to me another 6 times. Because before you arrive, it’s best to be sure, or else you’ll find yourself editing dog porn.