PART 1 if you happened to miss it.
I wasn't out of work for long. A week before my boss nearly killed herself and wound up in intensive care, she had me deliver a box full of brand-new broadcast video tapes to a rival post-production boutique on the other side of town—a place I would settle into for the next two years. I didn’t anticipate my first visit turning into an impromptu job interview.
Dreamscape, Inc. was a world-class, high-end operation. The contrast between their facility and the third-world hellhole I'd been working in was glaring. It was sad how acclimated I’d gotten to scraping out an existence among the bottom feeders of Hollywood. I stood silent for a few seconds in the reception area and sucked in a breath of fresh air, for the first time, in a long time.
I was immediately descended upon with a big happy smile and a friendly handshake from Gary, the guy who owned the place. He handed me a fat check for the expensive videotapes, which he surely didn’t know were hot off the black market. He wouldn't have paid full retail for them, had he known.
The machine room operator, dressed like a gas station attendant from the days of old, minus the silly cap, came out and grabbed the box of tapes. The guy was just as upbeat as his boss.
"Hey man, how ya doin’? My name's Bobby, great to meet you!” he said. “I love that button on your jacket. That’s great!"
I glanced down to read the button, FUCK THE REAL WORLD - I'M AN ARTIST.
My old skate-punk leather jacket had become a second skin. I wore it in those days because it was comfortable, not to make a statement. I hadn't bothered to read any of the attached slogans and affirmations for some time.
The contrast between their facility and the third-world hellhole I'd been working in was huge. It was sad how acclimated I’d gotten to scraping out an existence among the bottom feeders of Hollywood. I stood silent for a few seconds in the reception area and sucked in a breath of fresh air for the first time in a long time.
Bobby took me by the arm, excitedly inviting me to tour the facility. "Come on in the back and check out our setup, dude. You’ll love it!"
He showed off their immaculate, well-appointed master control room and then took me down the hall. They had an Avid editing bay, a plush sound recording studio, and an audio-sweetening bay. He told me that the bulk of their business was serving as an annex for surrounding TV and film studios, including Sony Pictures, MGM Studios, and MTV Networks.
"You must hate working for Patel," Bobby said. "If you’re looking for a job, we're gonna need a machine room operator pretty soon."
"Thanks, yeah… I might have to take you up on that," I told him.
"Or... if you want to pick up some side editing work, I can hook you up with Dee Troutman; he's got a boatload of music video work he needs help with."
Of course, I took Bobby up on the employment offer within days of becoming unemployed. I was hired as Manager of Dreamscape's master control room and did Avid editing on the side, including a few shows for MTV and pilots for Sony TV. I also helped restore some old classic martial arts films and dozens of Blaxploitation masterpieces, including Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song, Coonskin, and all of the Dolemite films.
I really enjoyed working there and made friends with a lot of the customers. I took it upon myself to build the company's first website and set up a closed-captioning system, which brought in all kinds of work for them. The business was booming, and I was finally making good money. I decided it was time to breathe some new life into my struggling side-hustle business, Hot Rod Condoms, a condom brand I launched a few years before moving to L.A.
I drew a clear line between work at Dreamscape and my own business. I never conducted any business during working hours, and I never talked about it with customers or co-workers. I knew better. Even as things began to take off, I only mentioned it to Bobby once or twice at work. He, of course, got excited and wanted to help. We discussed it after work, and he said he wanted to help me with sales; working on commission. I took him up on the offer.
Bobby helped get my condoms into one of the largest independent retailers, Condomania, which also had a respectable distribution business. Soon, my Hot Rod Condoms brand was selling at Hustler stores all over the U.S. and on every website that sold condoms. I was able to keep this amazing news from the owner of Dreamscape and his new business partner, Rick. There was no reason to let them know. Bobby was sworn to silence.
Bobby helped get my condoms into one of the largest independent retailers, Condomania, which also had an extensive distribution business. Soon, my Hot Rod Condoms brand was selling at Hustler stores all over the U.S. and on every website that sold condoms.
I did interviews on Playboy Radio and began sponsoring a couple of shows on Playboy TV. In August 2000, I attended an adult novelty convention in Las Vegas and made some important connections. One of the owners of Lifestyles Condoms approached me about a manufacturing and distribution deal. He put me in touch with Prestige Marketing, which I later learned held a virtual monopoly on all major condom distribution channels inside the U.S., and we entered into negotiations.
When I got home, a message from a guy named Gil Talbott was waiting on my answering machine. He was a major magazine press owner and the publisher of a vast number of adult titles, from Adult Cinema Review to OUI Magazine. During our first call, he conveyed his intense interest in Hot Rod Condoms and said he was prepared to invest half a million dollars and to partner with me. It seemed my ship was finally coming in, laden with cash.
The tremendous excitement about my prospects was growing by the day, but I stuck to my guns and didn't bring any of it to work. I wanted to keep my day job for the time being. Bobby and I stuck to discussing business on lunch breaks or after hours. No one else knew my side business was beginning to boom. Even after I hired an expensive lawyer and we were getting closer and closer to finalizing a deal, I kept it hush-hush.
Hot Rod Condoms ads were running in all of Gil Talbott’s publications free of charge as a good-faith gesture. My lawyer was impressed, “Those ads are worth tens of thousands of dollars,” he said. “This man is serious. You've got a really big fish on the line, it seems."
Then, I made a fatal mistake as far as my day job was concerned.
Mr. Talbott emailed me and said that he wanted to fax me a contract to look over. He was offering to invest $700,000 for a 49% interest in my business and brand. I was ecstatic. I went out and celebrated with a few too many drinks that night. The next morning, I wasn't thinking clearly, and my mind was spinning with excitement, so when I went in to work, I asked my boss, Gary, if I could have someone send me a fax. He said it wouldn't be a problem.
But when the fax papers spit out of his fax machine, and he saw that it was a business contract, he lost it. Gary and his partner Rick dragged me into the conference room and began to lay into me. It was harsh, insulting, and a total overreaction. They were determined to knock me down a notch or two. They wouldn't relent, even after I apologized for using their fax machine for my business. They doubled down, threatening to fire me if they ever heard me say the words "Hot Rod Condoms" again.
"That's ridiculous," I said. I stood to my feet. I was more than ready to quit my job.
Gary, usually the calm, cool, and collected type, jumped up out of his chair and screamed directly in my face, "If you think it's ridiculous, then get your shit and get the fuck out of here!"
I did just that.
When I slammed the back door shut on my way out, it nearly came off its hinges. They were inspecting it closely as I smoked the tires out of their parking lot and into the street.
I was headed for what seemed to be an incredibly bright future.
CONTINUED IN PART THREE
Note: this is a rough draft of a larger story that I’m hoping to turn into a book.
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