EXCERPT TWO
The First Salvo
1985
At KYW I gained the first experience picking up trash; getting humiliated by talentless news anchors; and squaring off with union thugs.
After that Autumn of 1984, I reluctantly (hah!) left my unpaid job (And Suzy) at KYW to move back to New York City. My entreaties into finding paid work in the City of Brotherly Love turned up absolutely nothing, and follow up to job postings on the NBC “Affiliate Employment Opportunities!” site included more than one suggestion to “perhaps look into the internship program at your local station to gain experience,” I opted to return to what’s always been touted as the world’s largest job market, the Big Apple.
I trundled back to NYC and faced the difficult task of getting hired and actually paid to work on sets.
In early January of 1985, found myself ensconced in a seven-hundred square foot, one-bedroom apartment I shared with my then girlfriend, now wife, Lee. No money. No job. No contacts. No possibilities. And no options.
In other words, I had myself right where I wanted me. But, by golly, I did have that four-month gig at KYW which boasted a viewership of six people, three cats, and a couple of soft pretzels. As the show’s fab executive producer Cory Anderson said to a viewer who called the station with a complaint: “Ma’am, we have a very loyal audience. It’s a small one, but it’s very loyal.”
Didn’t care. It was a great job.
I set to work finding employment and sent out two hundred hard copy resumes with cover letters typed on a manual typewriter. I blanketed the NYC production company market with a Curriculum Vitae as follows:
George W. Young 1520 York Avenue, Suite 24E NYC, NY 10019 212.794.1453
GOAL To work as a production assistant in the New York City commercial and film market with the ultimate goal of producer.
EXPERIENCE August 1984 to January 1985 Production Intern/Assistant KYW-TV3 Philadelphia, PA
Worked as a Production Assistant for the NBC affiliate on their local productions, including Evening Magazine, The News at Noon, and Breaking News. Duties included scheduling union personnel and staff, assisting weekly music video production in securing location permits, crew, and equipment, and coordinating in-house resources for media promotion for the station. Additionally, assisted Executive Producer in community outreach events and organized both air masters and editorial elements for KYW’s library.
Don’t Ask July 1979 to July 1984 Hope It Doesn’t Matter New York City, New York
EDUCATION Ursinus College, BA 1979 English Literature Departmental Honors Upon Graduation VP Alpha Phi Omega |
My clever use of the bold italics in one section calls out the fact all I had to show for those five years was a steady diet of rejection from choreographers, directors, artistic directors, and dance captains. However, given that most who received my resume didn’t read past the “G” in “George” at the top, I concentrated on getting the proposed recipients on the phone . . . yes, this was long before the millennial ideal of speaking with no one from the time you turned seven through the moment of your untimely passing, invaded America’s work culture.
A typical conversation went like this:
Receptionist: “Good Morning. Big Enormous Productions.”
Me: “Hi. I’d like to speak with Joe Producer please.”
Receptionist: “Who’s calling?”
Me: “Uh, tell him it’s his mother.”
Receptionist: “You have a very deep voice for someone who’s
been dead for six years.”
Me: “Uh, yes, you’re right, so you might want to tell him it’s
urgent.”
Receptionist: “This isn’t very funny.”
Me: “It’s not?”
Receptionist: “No. His mother isn’t dead, but you’ve tried this
same routine three times now.”
Me: “I have? I must’ve lost track.”
Receptionist: “Oh, I believe Joe just got off the line. I’ll put you
through.”
Me: Ulp.
Receptionist (SHOUTING): “JOE! IT’S THAT WISEASS PA LOOKING FOR WORK!!”
Joe Producer: “Did he use that bit about my mother again?”
Receptionist: “Yes.”
Joe Producer: “Let’s put him on the Maalox shoot, and tell the
Teamster captain this guy called him a fairy.”
Receptionist: “Will do… (to me) Call time is six am at Mothers
Studios.”
This exchange has been embellished somewhat. The end result was that I usually did not get hired. Except once in a while someone would take pity on me and put me on a gig. Either that or they got sick of hearing from me every week or two.
At that point in the process, which was the first two months of 1985, I didn’t know which I liked better; the “pity hire” or the “annoyance hire.” They both have special characteristics. The pity hire telegraphs to the producer and coordinator that you are a weak, sniveling wuss. You’ll be humiliated publicly over this.
Whereas the annoyance hire connotes some strength on your part, but at least one revenge job awaits you. You’ll have to learn to throw a left jab if you want to survive.
But the first pity hire beckoned.
Followed by the most incredible professional life.
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