The Miss Jobless Chronicles: The Ex Files, Part II

Ed. note: "The Miss Jobless Chronicles" is a weekly series written by Caitlin O'Toole. Read the rest in the series here. (Continued from August 9) So I saw my ex a few weeks ago. The one I had been with for seven years. Not only did she call me out on blatantly lying to her about the state of affairs in my life, she offered me paid work at the recording studio where she is a big time engineer. I felt slightly humiliated, but my need for work quickly outweighed my humiliation. So I call her. "Hey," and I paused -- forgetting that so many years had passed that I should probably identify myself. "It's me, Caitlin." "Oh hey," there's loud music thumping in the background. "Hang on... hey. Sorry." "So I'm calling to take you up on your work offer." "Really? That's great! That's so great. I can't pay you a lot -- $10 an hour -- and I have to warn you that the work is not glamorous. You'll mostly be getting coffee for clients and keeping the place clean. Can you deal?" "Oh god, totally. I really appreciate it, Karen. I really do." "Why don't you swing by tomorrow -- say, 11?" "Sounds great. Bye." I'm excited! I have had rock star fantasies since the day I was born. Years of playing air drums to the Police in my bedroom and dressing up like Boy George for the 8th grade talent show are all coming back to me. This could be the start of a brand new career! Caitlin O'Toole, record producer. Has a ring to it, right? Maybe I should order business cards! I call my dad and tell him the news. "That's the stupidest idea I've heard in a long time, Cait," he goes, and my psychological erection goes flaccid. "It's an unwritten rule that you NEVER work with anyone you're dating, or have dated. Secondly, you don't know the first thing about recording or engineering." "I know, but it's $10 an hour, and I can learn fast." "You're being grandiose," he said, a word that has often been used to describe me. "WhatEVER," and I hang up in a huff. What does he know? I decide to dye my hair later in preparation for the BIG DAY, the first day of my new career. I put a huge blonde streak in the front and don't leave the bleach on long enough, so it's orange. I look like a very dykey Bonnie Raitt. So I dye it black. I can't sleep the night before I am to start at the studio. I toss and turn, and when I finally fall asleep for what seems like an hour, I imagine my name on a CD booklet: "Produced by Caitlin O'Toole, engineered by Karen Ward." (Haha, I get top billing!) I get up and shower and put on my best ripped jeans, my black Chucks, and my well-worn David Bowie t-shirt. Rock 'n' roll. I make my way up to the studio, which is on West 53rd St. Some of the people and bands that have darkened the doors of Avatar Studios, which used to be known as the very famous Power Station, include Duran Duran, Bruce Springsteen, John Lennon and Madonna. It's been Avatar since 1996, and now its clients include Vampire Weekend and The Strokes. When I walk in the front door, I expect to see Jon Bon Jovi greet me, but instead, it's a surly receptionist who is clearly unfamiliar with my very popular Gaelic name. "Who are you here to see?" "Caitlin O'Toole for Karen Ward." "Catland?" "Caitlin. C-A-I-T --" "OK. Go on back." Karen greets me at the door, and quickly introduces me to Chuck, her assistant, and another chick named Karen, who I realize ten minutes later is the lead singer for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. (!!!!) My ex gives me a brief tour. The place is amazing looking. The very famous Studio A, which is hailed as one of the best-sounding drum rooms in the world, is like a tent-like wooden canopy with all sorts of cool gear and shit lying around it. (Note to self: Learn what the gear is called, don't let anyone hear you say 'cool gear and shit.') "Do you want some water or anything?" "No, I'm good." "I thought today you could just watch and see what goes on, maybe get water for the clients (THE YEAH YEAH YEAHS?!!), order lunch for us and sit with me. That cool?" "Totally!" "OK, first things first -- go give the menu book to the clients and ask them what they want for lunch." Um. OK, so you want me to go up to Karen O. from the YYYeahs and ask her what she wants to eat today? Holy shit. "Okay." Karen O. is sitting in the small studio, Studio C, reading a magazine while the other band members (Nick and Brian) chain smoke cigs. "Um, Karen? Hi, we just met. I'm Caitlin. I'd like to know what you'd like for lunch today, here's the book of menus." And I hand it to her, my hands literally shaking. "Thank you!" She's sweet, pretty, and no matter how hard I try to look her in the eyes, my eyes keep tilting down to her indelible lipstick. "Just let me know, I'll be right over here." And I wonder to myself where to go, where's "right over here" -- it's not like I can really create busy work for myself on my first day. So I go over to the trash can and start going through it, as if I'm looking for something I've lost. She comes over and gives me a note with her lunch selection scribbled on it -- a vegetarian wrap. "The guys will have the same, just get three," she goes. "And thank you again." "Oh, totally. My pleasure completely." I go and find Karen, who's busy at the huge console of lighted-up machines with intricate knobs and labels and computers with wave-like patterns on them. She goes over the nitty gritty of what she's doing, she's mixing, blah blah, and I'm not hearing anything because I just ordered lunch for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and I'm feeling SO cool. "Are you getting any of this?" she asks me. "Yes, yes, all of it. But my eye is on Karen O. on the other side of the glass. I want my picture with her. "Karen, this is so gay, but can you take a picture of me with the band?" "No, no. The whole idea behind the studio is to create a homey environment that's away from all the madness of the world outside. I don't want them to think you're a groupie, it may piss them off and interfere with their creative process." "Oh." I'm determined to get a picture without them knowing. The receptionist calls to say the food is here, and I am instructed to bring it into the kitchen, put it on a tray, and present it to the band like it's some kind of room service... (to be concluded!) Caitlin O'Toole is a New York City-based writer and editor. A native of Washington, D.C., she began her illustrious journalism career as a Washington Post paper girl. She has since written and edited for Sesame Workshop Digital, Star Magazine, The National Enquirer, Glamour, People.com, Parade.com and Washington's City Paper. Her work has also been featured on Fox News, ABC, MTV and VH1. She lives in Chelsea with her two cats, Lucy and Ethel. She can be reached for work at her LinkedIn page, Tweets at @MsOToole, and blogs at Shits and Giggles.

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The Miss Jobless Chronicles: The Ex Files, Part II

Rachel Kaufman

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Rachel Kaufman