Winds of Change

My Spanish skirt

Mike gets the internship with Zig. Not sure what it’s all about yet. All I know is Zig is a hard-ass. He has no time for anyone or anything and he acts like he’s doing Mike a favor by letting him intern for him (for free). In one breath he’s asking how much money he has saved and tells him he needs to get part-time work, and in the next breath he’s telling him he doesn’t care about his other job. He needs someone who is going to give everything he has for this internship. Obviously, Mike accepts. Zig wants him to start tomorrow. Work Monday-Friday, 9-6, in Culver City (28 minutes away, so an hour and 28 minutes with traffic). Mike asks about the dress code. “Slacks and a dress shirt. Bring your portfolio and your laptop and I’ll see you tomorrow.” OK. Mike doesn’t have a laptop but OK, Zig. Mike asks Troy if he can borrow his for the day. Fine for tomorrow but I don’t know what he’s going to do about every other day. Crap. I have an interview tomorrow, and Mike’s taking the car. Umm, Troy, can I borrow your car? He’s fine with it, thankfully.

After my run I head to Kohl’s. I very stupidly didn’t bring enough of my black work clothes with me, so I need pants and another black shirt. I also have an audition Saturday that calls for “upscale business”. Don’t even know what that means, but I know I don’t have it. I own a black blazer that would be perfect – it’s in New Jersey. Takes me forever to find anything. I start in the women’s department and find a few cute things, then head to the junior’s department. A lady is walking with her little one in a stroller and starts asking me questions in Spanish. I’m used to this by now, but never prepared. People ALWAYS talk to me in Spanish, and every time I get pissed off that I know how to say NOTHING. It’s pathetic. Sorry! She keeps talking. Then realizes that I’m some stupid girl who only speaks English. “Oh..thank you!” She’s sweet about it, but secretly thinks I’m a complete moron.

One day I was running in Hoboken with my head phones on and a little Spanish lady started rambling to me and pointing at the sky. Take off my headphones, try to make sense of what she’s saying. Nope, nothing. Sorry! She keeps talking. Do I really look Spanish? It makes me laugh. I don’t get it. It started at a young age. I was probably somewhere between age 7 and 9 when Aunt Jody took the family to this cute Spanish restaurant in North Jersey: Fornos. After dinner, I wanted dessert, so Mom told me to go up to the dessert case and see what they had. I walk over by myself, in my little flowered skirt and lavender button-up dress shirt. I’m standing there, staring at the cakes and pies, when I notice a man behind the counter. He’s talking to me, but I have no idea what he’s saying. Embarrassed, I run back to the table and tell Mom. She laughs, Dad laughs, Aunt Jody laughs; they all laugh. Ha ha. And so begins the torturing of Lindsay by her sibliings (especially Stephen), that I’m adopted. Secretly, and not so secretly, I loved it. I loved being different. You know what they say about the middle child? Well, it’s totally true. I loved being different. All my siblings have blue eyes; I have brown. They are all right-handed; I’m left. Not much besides that, except that when I was young I would get so much tanner than all of them in the summer. Would have made me think I was really adopted… if I wasn’t exactly like my Mom.

I finally decide on some things to buy and wait in line, taking all the clothes off the hangers and organizing everything. The people at checkout really appreciate this. And even if they don’t, it moves the process along a lot faster. This is something that one day I just started to do while waiting in line. Another “OMG, I’m becoming my mother” moment. She does it every time. Growing up I didn’t realize she did it. I probably thought that if she did it then everyone did it.

It’s my last night training at Lilly’s. I only have to open with Esme, the other bartender. Tropez said he’ll send me home by 8 or 9. Esme is a cute little thing. I seriously like everyone I meet here. It’s just us here and some kitchen people, so she puts on her own music until we really open. “I haven’t listened to Drake in a while, and I’m obsessed with this new song, so I’m just going to put it on repeat, because that’s how I am with life.” OK, Esme. I’d rather listen to Christmas music, but this isn’t bad. Corrinne is serving tonight. She’s a sweetheart, been here for about a year. She tells me that it’s all the same people here since she started. This is good. High turnover in a restaurant is never a good sign.

It’s really windy tonight – uncommon for LA. Corrinne tells me I brought it from New Jersey. All of a sudden, the power goes out. I’ve experienced this before, but usually the power comes right back on. If it doesn’t, we close down the bar. Well, the power doesn’t come back on, but nobody freaks out. I’ll bet this has never even happened before, but no one seems bothered. There’s a bunch of customers here, too. They continue to order drinks by candlelight. No music, so Esme puts the volume up on her cell and continues to make drinks. Francis comes out of the kitchen. Dinner orders have been placed and obviously he can’t make anything. I think he’s going to be freaking out. Nothing. Cool, calm, and collected. There’s nothing he can do about it, so no worries. Tropez calls me over. “Uhh, you can go home, you know?” He looks around at the darkness, chuckling. It’s 7:30. I’ll see you Friday. Grab a couple menus to study and I’m out the door.

Streetlights are out as I head home. It’s madness. Lots of traffic. I’m sitting in it, bumper-to-bumper, so I decide to call Bryan S. (he left me a voice mail last night). It’s great to hear his voice. It’s been too long. Cori and Bryan live together in San Diego with their two sons. This is basically a “welcome to California” call. These are the best calls. His little ones are screaming and running around in the background. Bryan gets serious. “Be quiet, Daddy’s on the phone.” Then immediate laughter. They’ll be heading home for the holidays – I’m obviously jealous. We make rough plans to meet up in January. It’s definitely comforting to have some high school friends out here.


2 thoughts on “Winds of Change

    1. LOL I feel like I won something! I made it on the blog! Haha Can’t wait to meet up with you guys. Good luck on your jobs and tell the gentlemen I said hello.

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