"It is." he says coldly. We glare at each other in the editing suite. I officially hate him. The Editor sitting between us fakes receiving a phone call and hightails it out of there.
Silence ensues.
"So, just what exactly am I suppose to do for money?" I ask him. I'm not the type to just wither away when some asshole is trying to financially sabotage me. If I'm going down in flames -- you better believe that I'm making you answer for it.
"Can't you get another job?" he snarls back at me...like I'm suppose to find some miraculous gig that lasts a few days and won't interfere with this one -- whenever it comes back on.
He's hoping I'll jump ship to another show and open up the space for his friend to take over for me. I don't know why I've dug in my heels so much. This asshole has made my life a living hell ~ making the president of the company second-guess my credentials; and my qualifications -- all so his dickhead friend can have a job.
My industry is filled with sociopaths.
"You're a prick," I mutter under my breath and storm out of the edit suite. I beeline towards my desk and google flights to Australia. If I'm not getting paid for four weeks ~ I'm gonna do it on a beach.
I send an email to my sister:
Hey! My show just went into emergency hiatus and I have four weeks off. Spruce up your couch, I'll be there in three days, ok? Hope it's ok! Can't wait to see you!!! xo
I shoot off another email to my editor with marching orders for how I want the third act of the show cut together, and with that -- I grab my bag and head out the door.
"See you in four weeks," I say to the dickhead as I push the elevator button and wait in the hall.
"Great! Glad you see it my way." he says as fake as can be. We've each murdered each other in our minds about 50 times in the last two months. I'm burnt out. I could use a little vacation, far far far away from here.
Three days later, after catching up on 12 movies on the Qantas flight, and taking a shuttle bus from Brisbane two hours south down the coast, I hop off in my sister's beach town. Immediately I smell the saltwater air. It instantly removes some of the tension that has been mounting in my upper back. I stand on the sidewalk and take in the view. White sand beach that stretches as far as the eye can see...palm trees that line the boulevard...and sun. Blissful sun. Something I haven't seen since shooting in San Fransisco two months prior. Winters are tough where I'm from: bleak, grey, depressing. I maniacally chuckle to myself as I flop down on my backpack and wait for my sister to meet me.
Ten minutes later I see her flip flopping down the street. Big smile, hair piled high in a pony tail on top of her head. She's dark -- like someone who spends most of their time in the sun.
"This is exciting!" she chants as she gets within earshot.
"Tough life," I tell her and waive towards the view. We give each other a big hug and then shuffle towards a nearby cafe so I can grab a bite to eat.
"I know," she says, and insists on grabbing my backpack -- which I appreciate, because I'm exhausted.
We settle at a table, and I begin to download how shitty the show I'm working on is; and how much of an asshole the supervising producer is being. We laugh. It doesn't seem so important now. It's amazing what flying to the other side of the world can do for your troubles.
All of a sudden I'm grateful for my excellent line of credit, and that I had enough space left on it to fly over here. I make a mental note to always leave a little cushion (if I can) for "get the hell outa here" money.
I'm loving the Gold Coast so far. People walk slower. They smile more. Being in the warm weather 24/7 has a definite advantage to your state of mind. I notice as I meet with some of her friends that I'm slower in speech than they are. My body has gone into some sort of half-hibernation mode to help tolerate the -20c winter we were having. It might take me a day or so to reach their boisterous energy level.
Later that night we plan to go out to dinner with my sister's boyfriend. It was going to be my treat (although I hadn't announced it); as a way of saying "hey, sorry I showed up unannounced -- and here's a free meal to make it all better!"
They had just moved to this new town and my sister was waiting to start a new job. I guess her funds had run a bit low. As I walked from the kitchen towards the front door I noticed her boyfriend handing her some money. It happened in the blink of an eye -- but it spoke to me. Rather than just offering to pay for her when we were out, he instead handed her money when he thought I wasn't looking. I think he did this so she could save face in front of me when it came time to pay. It was sweet. Endearing. Considerate.
And I remember thinking as I waited for them by the front door that this was a quality guy. A rare gem of an individual. It was good to know that they're out there. And for the moment, I was glad. Glad to be here. Glad to see this part of her life. Glad to get to know him a little better.
The asshole back home all of a sudden played a catalystic role for my being here; and for a brief moment I was slightly grateful for everything that went down -- but then I remembered what a prick he was, and was even more grateful that I mitigated the attack with a trip to Australia.
And so, I made a mental note to send the office lots of happy photos of me sunning on a beach between now and the time I return.
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