L.A. Money

There was a possible opportunity today! There is a show that will be aired on a major network soon.  I knew as soon as she called I couldn’t take it.  I could feel it in my gut.  “Its going to be about recently divorced people.  A woman comes in to help you get through it.” A reality show. (A snarky voice in my heart: “I don’t need no stranger ladies help on a television show. Some Dr. Phil crap!”). Then I felt the surge; Money.  It would have been about $1500 per filming session. Show me the money!

I called a few people to think it over.  It was not officially given to me.  There were some things on their end they wanted to see as well like where I was living. I knew I couldn’t take it regardless but I was still thinking about the money. Money is powerful stuff.  I called the friend I didn’t want to call.  I knew she would ruin it for me:

Me: Hey so there is this show its going to be aired on blah blah blah (secret stuff haha).  What do you think?

Her: My gut says no.  I mean that is a good network.  You could still put it on your resume but you know you got to think long-term.  They are going to edit whatever they want.

Me: Yeah I know.  On the phone I told the woman I still wanted to honor my x husband’s story.  I am still figuring out what that means.  I’m not sure she understood.

Her: I feel sick thinking about it.  People are so manipulative!

Me: I knew it was a no. And that is why I waited to call you at the end of the day! (we both start laughing). I literally waited the whole day to imagine that money in my pocket!

Her: There is better out there for you.

Me:  So they say…

I emailed the woman and went ahead and told her no. She agreed it was not ideal for someone who wanted to be an actual actor.

 

When I was eight-teen I was in NYC for a summer.  My wallet was stolen.  I was stuck.  I tried to sell comedy tickets on the streets.  I am not the best at selling things.  I hate that people have to buy things. Please don’t buy my stuff! Don’t buy my stuff! Save your money! Sales.  Who sales? Not me!

A man came up to me.  He was older.  He had gray hair.  He was tall. His skin was white. I often wonder if he was a trafficker.  I was definitely trafficable back then.  He offered me $500 to sleep with him. I told him no!

I needed money bad. Maybe he could smell it on me.  Prey. I had just finished the last of the pancake mix where I was staying.  I had no food.  I had no money. The maybe trafficker man looked angry and took out more hundreds.

“$1000,” he smiled. He glared.  “No,” I responded firmly not fully understanding what was going on.  He took out more hundreds until he offered me $10,000 to sleep with him.  I told him no.  I held my breath.  I tried to not feel his energy.  His strength.  His manliness.  I said no more words.  He stood there.  I mustered the courage to walk away. He murmured words of me regretting my decision but he couldn’t make me stay. Later on the subway my friend we’ll call him Joe slapped me on the back of the head, “You mean you could have made us $10,000 dollars?”

Money.

Be careful with Money.

It will eat you until there is nothing left.

Nothing.

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