My earlier post from tonight got me to thinking about working at Crown in Malibu and the cast of characters and pains in my neck I got to know there. I took that job because I had just recently gotten a car, and because the video store I was managing had been sold to a man who thought good business meant not paying your employees. He was also fond of leather pants (what is it with me and my former - male - bosses and their damn leather pants?). Anyway, when Mitch, the slightly older married man who was fond of baby blue v-neck sweaters, Foosball, and the band Cheap Trick quit to go work at some satellite TV place (I don't know, exactly), and suddenly I was in charge... it was fun for awhile, but it wasn't the same.
I guess being the boss has it's bonuses (any schedule I want! hiring people! firing people! wearing jeans and clogs to work every day...!) but working for a tall blue-eyed funny man with a deep voice was more fun than working for myself. Anyway, so I went to Malibu to work for another tall, deep-voiced man, named Alex, except Alex was certifiably a nut job. Alex hired me, having had no assistant managers for awhile (I should've realized that something was wrong with him when I heard he'd come into that store from another location and both assistants quit at the same time), and I got to know his staff, who were reasonably capable. Things were fine, and then he brought on a girl from his old store named Beth, who proceeded to make my life a living hell.
But this is not a post about crazy-ass Beth and her stupid car named Marilyn (please don't name your car, my friends. Seriously), or her sidekick, Half-a-Brain Jessica. Both of them were pure evil. Or red-headed Cheney (Cheney's password to the system was "Kurt," after Kurt Cobain; he did a hell of a job vaccuming that store every night). At first he was the hardest person to talk to but ended up being my best friend for about three months. We used to wear each other's aprons and yes, I realize that's a weird detail. No, this isn't about him either. It also isn't about Leigh, an artist, calligrapher, amateur guitarist, and very sweet young woman who I am friends with, still. I look forward to her handmade cards and notes that she sends on occasion from her new home in Hollywood. Nope: tonight's story is about Will.
Alex hired Will after I'd been there for awhile. He was a local, and I think he might've recently graduated from high school. Surprisingly not a lot of local Malibu kids wanted to work at Crown - most of our employees came from Pepperdine (though, I have to tell you, those kids tended to be flakey, and definitely not Jesus-y) or the valley someplace. He was probably about three years younger than I was - so if I was 22 or 23, Will was 18 or 19. He was moderately responsible, not very knowledgable about books, funny, and honest. We weren't especially close or really, friends, but he was easy to work with, and interesting to talk to during the slow periods.
At that time of year everybody who's ever worked in retail looks forward to - inventory - Alex scheduled everybody to come in early. Because I worked the night shift with Will the night before, I wasn't looking forward to the drive all the way home and then back to Malibu the next morning, so - and I don't even know how I asked him this - I invited myself over to Will's house. He lived with his mother and stepfather (a well-known psychic, and New Age writer; Karen the Born Again had a kiniption fit when she found out who his family was) and, I don't know how many siblings or dogs and horses in a big beautiful Malibu home. I remember being introduced to people and feeling a tad bit awkward about it all (he had a girlfriend and I knew she spent the night often; I think she was out of town or something when this happened), but it was late when we got there and I was tired and worried about getting up early the next day, so we went right to sleep.
Okay, so I know what you're thinking, but quit it. Here's what I remember (it was a long time ago): I slept in his room, which was decorated all over with those stick on glow-in-the-dark stars and planets, and, I have to admit, as lame as it sounds, it was totally cool. I think he also slept in his room that night, which was large, commodious, and just what you'd expect an almost 20 year old guy living at his mom and dad's house in Malibu to be like (see "Two and a Half Men" for the decor, only their house was bigger and more beautiful). We were not in the same bed, but I don't know how we were situated. Maybe he had a very comfortable couch in his room or something? I had the bed. We didn't know each other very well, and he was a nice person with a good heart. Also, his girlfriend was young, blond and gorgeous, and I am easily intimidated by the blond. And: I wasn't interested in him, and he wasn't interested in me, and I had nothing on my mind except not being late to inventory, and I trusted him. Nothing happened. But thinking back on it now, it seems funny to me how this worked out - and I don't remember the details.
Anyway, Will and Cheney and this other guy we worked with who's name I've suddenly forgotten - these guys were the sanity in a store full of crazy chicks - Beth and Jessica, to be exact. And I'll never forget meeting Mark Hamill one night, and the guy who's name I've forgotten said to me, "Irene, that's Luke Skywalker!" I was all, "na-uh" (this guy was a stoner and not very, um, smart), so he walked up to Mark Hamill (maybe not smart, but fearless!) who was shopping with his kid, and goes, "My boss doesn't believe you're Luke Skywalker!" and Luke Skywalker whipped out his wallet and his credit card, and showed it to me, and right there in raised letters: "Mark Hamill." No named guy was from the valley, but Will, who'd grown up around celebrities, was never star struck around movie stars like I was (Kevin Bacon, for example). He was a cool guy. I hope he has a nice life now.
No comments:
Post a Comment