Continued From: Going Back to Cali…
The next part of this story is like getting off a ski lift with a snowboard strapped to your foot for the first time ever…and thinking “oh crap, you mean they don’t stop at the top of the mountain- duh, the lift just keeps moving!” I had driven by myself from Florida to California, roughly 2425 miles with just a radio and no AC only to have the two people I was supposed to meet walk into my living room.
Now take a moment and say… freaking ridiculous??!! The world really is small.
The reality of my current situation being that I was 19 years old with no concept of what I was doing. Up to that point I had been a waitress, retail manager, lifeguard and college dropout. The first job I landed in CA was at a coffee shop and before I got to work my first shift they called and said they didn’t need me anymore. Seriously? My next feature employment was with a Porsche driving parentally financed 18-year-old who started a clothing company, called Ideal. I was the only employee and my job was booking appointments with retail stores. The situation was not really “ideal’ and I ended up being replaced within the week and did not shed one single tear however, I did score a sweatshirt. Finally I got a steady job being a manager in a surf shop. The most famous person I have personally ever met (he wasn’t famous yet) was working there part-time in between jobs and told the owner he thought I seemed “pretty cool”- thank goodness because my hundreds of dollars were turning into pennies and dimes and I was finding it difficult to gain employment, especially when you said you were from Florida. His name b.t.w was Sal Masekela- thanks again Sal!
It was during these precious moments at the surf shop that I would meet all sorts of characters, none of whom I still talk too, however there was a moment during an employee meeting that I experienced an epiphany. A fellow co-worker and I were having a disagreement about something I can’t possibly remember when she looked at me pointing her finger and said “you know, one day you are going to have to wear panty hose and high heels!” A completely ridiculous statement in which I curtly responded, “Never will that happen.” I’m pretty sure I gave them my two-week notice and have managed to evade that dress code entirely.
In between working I was living the life, surfing a couple times a day with my new friends and eventually roommates, trading clothes and music for money to pay rent and eating super yummy Mexican food. Life in California was an adventure. I got a second job in a pizza shop, quit my first job and eventually had to move into a cheaper living situation. I ended up sharing a small bedroom with a guy named Weasel and my story shifts again.
