** See Addendum below**

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I worked for a pretty big internet company in Silicon Valley. I got the job the way most people get jobs – through a referral. This referral was Al-Jay, who at the time was an acquaintance for different reasons. I had first met him back during my De Anza days through his girlfriend (now wife) Joy, with whom I had shared a couple of drawing classes. Fast forward years later when I got reacquainted with him through his short film, EXT. PARK – DAY. I boomed for him, got some Jamba Juice and a hot #9 from Togo’s for his obnoxious diva lead actress. In return, he got me an interview.

Over the last week or so, I was able to return the favor. I got him an interview with my company and within a couple of hours, he got the job. He started this week and here we are again – 2 passionate film geeks with aspirations of a Filipino cinematic revolution (not really, but it sounds dramatic) stuck in front of a Windows XP machine staring at Microsoft Excel all day. As he readusted to life as a corporate drone, we discussed – over AIM, of course – how insanely overqualified we were to perform the specific tasks we’ve been hired to do. In fact, he boldly stated that I was “slumming it.” I could see the anger in his 12 pt Arial font. He wasn’t lying by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, when I look around the cramped room, I could probably argue that everyone else is overqualified for what we do. [The notable exeption might be the guy who insists that Godfather 3 is superior to Godfather 2]

Remember in Pulp Fiction when Butch is kicking Marsellus Wallace’s ass and he says, “You feel that sting, big boy, huh? That’s pride FUCKIN’ with you! You gotta fight through that shit”?

The sting Butch talks about is sitting there knowing you’re way better than this. It’s the same sting when you’re standing in the middle of a sidewalk at a busy Manhattan park begging visitors not to cross because there’s a camera about 120 feet away. This particular camera is pointed in your general direction and if you let the visitors cross, they will ruin the shot…of a film…of the student variety…that no one…NO ONE…will ever…EVER see. Yes, it’s sucks to be a PA, and it sucks even worse when you’re not getting paid.

But the second part of that line is what’s important. You see, when I took this internet company gig, pride went out the window the moment I sat down and turned on that monitor. I realized I was performing tasks that a machine could do with the help of a competent programmer. But you know, letting go of that pride is the only way you can stay sane – well, that and maybe hulu, espn360, and mlb.tv.

They always say this on film sets – it is what it is. And they’re right…because I actually don’t hate my job. Sure beats firewatching and lockups. Besides, it’s not like I can be picky these days.

ADDENDUM: Ok, so hate is a strong word, but after the events of the last couple of days, my sentiments are moving towards that direction at about warp 3. (I’ve watched Star Trek twice already) Without getting long-winded, the 20′x30′ room where they corral us now has 16 computers. We sit 4 to a row, literally less than 18″ away from each other. They’ve started to add workstations to random desks along the wall, and the rumor is that there will be more coming.

It’s official – I work in a sweat shop. How fitting that in Howard Zinn’s People’s History of the United States,  I’m now reading the chapter which discusses how labor laws, unions, and the Populist party came to be.

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