world-renowned artist. Granted, she’s only renowned to people in the world that know art. It’s not like she’s a household name or a celebrity. Still, she was accomplished enough when we met that, in comparison, I felt lacking.
That being said, I had never heard of her until I called about the job. The post I’d seen was elusive anyway:
Artist/Studio Assistant WANTED for film/art project(s)—beautiful redwood retreat setting (Mill Valley, CA)—salaried position w/potential to live on property—construction experience a must—call for details.
The location and the live/work situation caught my eye. I was still living in Berkeley and had been yearning to move back to Mill Valley, though I hadn’t pursued that desire in earnest for a couple of reasons. First, I didn’t want to deal with the emotional ramifications of living anywhere near my father. However, he had recently sold his company and retired to Vail, so I could check that excuse off my list.
Bob Harper’s departure aside, I couldn’t afford to live in Mill Valley on my own and probably would have taken the job at October’s even if it had required me to shovel shit for eight hours a day, if for no other reason than it might allow me to live among the redwoods again.
When I called the number on the ad, I reached October’s assistant, Rae. It was almost ten o’clock at night, but she answered right away, a Type-A sort of hello, sharp and no nonsense. She introduced herself and then launched into an explanation about how the position was not to replace her. She was the personal and administrative assistant, she said, and did not work on projects in the studio.
The tone of Rae’s voice told me she took herself and her job very seriously. And I could tell she was protective of her boss. Though when I made reference to her boss—because at that point I still didn’t know October’s name—she said, “I’m more like the artist’s friend who happens to organize her life, yeah?”
Rae, I would quickly come to learn, had a habit of ending the majority of her sentences with “yeah?” even if they were not questions. I can be easily annoyed, and this was a quirk that never ceased to get on my nerves.
I told Rae I was interested in the position, though I had no idea what it required.
“Like I said, you’d be the studio assistant. October needs someone to help her with a film project she’s been working on, as well as various other art and technology projects. Someone who will not be intrusive. Someone who knows how to work cameras and lighting equipment, can build things, and has a general understanding of art. Is that you, Mister what-is-your-name?”
“Harper. Joe.”
“What is your current occupation, Mr. Harper? You work in the film industry, yeah?”
“The ad didn’t say anything about that being a requirement.”
“You’re an artist then?”
I explained to Rae that I was currently employed by an organic produce delivery service called FarmHouse. My job consisted of driving around to local farms, picking up fruits and vegetables, eggs, and jars of various pickled foods, and delivering them to people’s homes. The pay was shit, but spending the day visiting farms in Northern California was more appealing than working for my dad’s construction company, which was what I’d done for almost a decade after college.
“You deliver vegetables?” Rae exhaled with obvious irritation. “You have no experience with film or art?”
I thought about being honest and telling her I was applying for the job because of the trees mentioned in the ad, but she didn’t sound like someone who would appreciate that. So I told her how I’d spent ten years working in construction, which seemed to soften her a bit, and then I added something stupid about how in high school my art teacher said I was good at drawing.
“I used to play guitar pretty well too. If you count that as art.”
Rae did not make a sound to indicate if she did one way or the other.
“I’ve built entire houses, so I’m sure I can build anything an artist might need. And I’m a quick learner.”
“That’s something,” Rae groaned. “The truth is we need someone ASAP. Our last assistant got a job on a feature film and left us in the lurch. Tell me you have an eye for composition and can decorate a set.”
“Sure,” I said, though I wasn’t confident that was the case.
“And you can come in for an interview first thing in the morning, yeah?”