Tales of a Hollywood Intern — Part 3

The honeymoon’s over. Welcome to disillusionment.

Photo by Sam Moqadam on Unsplash
The Brat (Photo by Author)
  • Drop off this laptop at the repair place on Santa Monica Blvd.
  • Drop off this script to the director in Silver Lake. And get the hell back quick, cause we’ll have another envelope for you to drop off to the accountant by then.

I was lower than low on the totem pole. Even the other production assistants wouldn’t talk to me.

Such was life at the bottom. And yet I CHOSE this. I wouldn’t listen to the naysayers. I didn’t care about the odds or the statistics. I was going to make it. I was the exception. I was better than everyone else, they just needed to realize it. All through school, I was warned that few people actually make it, and it is a long road and hard work just to earn people’s respect.

Drew Barrymore was probably the only person there who didn’t treat me as less than human.

The owner of this gaudy house was a very awkward Jewish family, and the wife was eager to make conversation with me the moment she looked at me and realized I was Jewish as well.

When I had to decide what it was that I really wanted, I discovered that I wanted a happy life. And for me, stability was happiness.

One day I was driving through Westwood after dropping something off at the producer’s apartment when I heard a loud “clunk!” come from my car, after which it stopped moving altogether. Got out and walked behind the car to find out what happened.

Traveler. Real estate investor. Storyteller. I talk about personal growth, emotional intelligence, and seizing opportunities.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store