Blogs/Personal Writing

A creative piece I wrote in response to a high-level job application prompt (I did get the job!). These kinds of personal statements, stories and anecdotes are a regular part of the creative writing I do for blogs, applications, etc.

Ever wondered what the terminal velocity of an airborne box of Kashi granola bars is? Or perhaps asked yourself over a morning cup of coffee: “just how many trash cans in Brooklyn are large enough to house pieces of a demolished wall?” Questions like these became the lynchpins of my professional life as a craft services/office production assistant on the HGTV television show Design Star.

At first I promised myself that I wouldn’t write about a production job. To gripe about the industry that I currently seek further employment in seems self-indulgent and perhaps even self-destructive. But while I wish I could say that I had had a hard time saving children from burning buildings, that’s simply not where life has taken me. Plus, everyone loves a little Schadenfreude.

Since the alternative TV industry runs on a dime, they delegate craft services to one lucky production office assistant. This is both the logical and economical solution. I served as this office PA/crafty PA and in both capacities I found myself facing strange and logistically difficult challenges every day.

“Adam, how much food can we return to Costco if it’s been opened?” All of it. Ask for Suzanne. God bless Costco.

“Adam, what’s the most effective way to get 50 bags-worth of kettle corn off of rainy streets?” Treat it like raking leaves, but use a shovel, and soap. “Great, thanks, they’re all waiting for you outside.”

One day we destroyed and then remodeled an apartment. Where was all of that debris to go without having to pay for trash removal? Well, it turns out that if one drives a moving truck around Brooklyn for long enough at night, one can dump the entire remains of a remodeled apartment into trashcans on street corners, piece by piece.

Each day something random and strange happened, and each day I found myself on the ground trying to right these oddities. Again, I wasn’t saving lives, but there were challenges nonetheless, and my reputation was constantly being called to court by snacks and breakfast. I had to be ready for anything, and able to laugh at everything.

What else did I learn? Well - aside from learning how to dumpster dive hygienically and that smartphones are the pinnacle of human innovation - I learned that no job is too small, and that morale is a real thing.

I received regular, aggressive phone calls from my superiors wondering what brand of bottled water I was getting or how much salsa we had left. I wasn’t screwing up, I was just “NEEDED ON SET,” a lot, as if my white cargo van, Lucille, were packed full of insulin or ammunition instead of Fritos and Canada Dry. It took me a bit to understand that the reason for all of the intensity, ironically, is that morale is a real thing. Food is a tradition in the film industry – it energizes the crew and keeps morale up. And when it’s gone, the general attitude really does take a nosedive. So while it may have seemed like small potatoes, my job actually had a huge effect on the production. So I did it well.

Further takeaways: everyone in this industry wakes up at 4am. Everyone works 16- 20 hour days sometimes. Everyone lugs things; they handle flying ladders, crying babies and somewhere, someone always needs an extra hand. Hard work is not the yardstick, it’s the base line; anticipation is the mother of success, and optimism, level-headedness and a good sense of humor are absolutely necessary in this arena and ultimately in life.

I also learned that hard work, cheeriness and clever thinking sometimes pay off: because of the work I put it on Design Star I was promoted to Assistant Production Coordinator where I learned how to delegate, find emergency dentists on Memorial Day, and do dishes in the dark.