NYC misadventure saga ... one more installment after this
Middle September 2000
For the next "living arrangement" in Brooklyn to take effect, the aunt had a condition - I'd have to "apologize" for the "choice words" I used over the phone when her negligence nearly left me out on the gutter. The aunt, in return, wouldn't have to apologize for the grief she caused. The Bronx relatives thought this one-sided deal was "fair". I obviously had my hesitations, but the ultimate deal-maker was when everyone asked me, "what are your alternatives at this point? Do you have any?"
So I caved. Yep, I caved once more. But this time it would be the last. I would reach the breaking point just a short time later.
The next place was located in the Northwest Brooklyn neighborhood of Clinton Hill. This particular area of Brooklyn was crime-ridden in the 1960's/70's/80's and was pretty hard-hit during the infamous "crack addiction epidemic". New York's Sicilian crime families also controlled the area's streets in those years. A strange addition to this gritty mix was the location of nearby Pratt Institute, one of America's oldest art colleges.
While Pratt gave the neighborhood some "Bohemian ambiance" and there was gentrification/improvements throughout the 90's, traces of its yesteryear still remained: "Popping" sounds were occasionally heard outside at night, drug paraphernalia/garbage was noticeable on the streets, with empty buildings and plenty of "street people" who didn't take kindly to unfamiliar people on their "turf" - such as yours truly.
The living conditions in the apartment made Susan's and Jessica's apartments seem like a luxury lounge: Once again, I slept in a small study room. However, this one was equipped with no bed or mattress, so I slept on a cockroach-laden floor with crumpled newspapers as a "cushion" and a blanket the Bronx relatives let me borrow. There was no insulation in this room, and around that time of year it started to get cold in New York City. It was technically no different than sleeping outside.
This also turned out to be another case of "rent profiteering": The monthly lease on the entire unit was $1200/month. I was charged $100/week to sleep in a hole-in-the-wall office room. Eliot charged this tweaker guy $600/month for the guest bedroom. Eliot got the master bedroom, so in a full month, Eliot would only have to pay $200 rent. On top of this, he worked as IT support for Deloitte & Touche at the World Financial Center in Manhattan. (I'm sure such a position pays a little more than $200 a month.)
Also around this time, I had no access to internet. Liz (the little redhead from the NYFA) had been e-mailing me and assumed I blew her off because I stopped replying to her messages; in reality, I had no internet access and constantly relied on the phone (which was always changing, for obvious reasons.) My job search was done primarily through NY Times and Village Voice ads. I was able to arrange interviews and took the same route everyday to get to the city: A twenty-five minute walk on DeKalb Ave until I reached the Nevins subway line in Downtown Brooklyn. Most of the companies I interviewed for were located in Manhattan's Times Square, Midtown, Madison Avenue and Financial Districts.
I got the same closing statement at the end of each interview: "We thank you for your interest. Unfortunately we're looking for candidates with a college degree or at least some applicable experience at this time. We will keep your resume on file for 6 months."
One interview stood out the most, not only sticking to recent memory, but also influencing my future socio-political views:
Remember the Tiger/Tigbur confusion? There was also a temp agency called "Tiger" not far from the other places I had been interviewing at. Tiger specialized in many different job industries, not just office-related. However, I was seeing a pattern in my "lack of experience" and wasn't sure if it was worth wasting any more time with staffing firms.
So I give the agency a call, and the recruiter over the phone sounds strangely receptive:
"We would like for you to come in. We work with people of all backgrounds and we're very accommodating with recent college or high school grads."
I upgrade my attire from "business casual" to "business professional" and go down there, arriving 15 minutes before the interview so I can fill out their paperwork. I hand the applications to the desk receptionist and wait. And wait. And wait. It was probably a good 30 minutes AFTER the interview was supposed to take place until I saw someone.
The recruiter girl of the agency - presumably the same person I talked to over the phone - then calls me into her office. I have a seat and she looks over my resume. My experience at that time didn't account for much except sporadic work at my parents' defunct retail store from 1993 to 1998, Summer volunteer work at an animal shelter in 1996 and a high school diploma.
More or less, the initial interview went like this:
RECRUITER GIRL: So aside from your parents' jewelry store, you don't have any employment experience?
ME: That's correct.
RECRUITER GIRL: Hmmmmm.
ME: Over the phone, if you're the person I spoke with, I believe it was mentioned that you assist people of all experience levels, including high school graduates?
RECRUITER GIRL: Yeah, that was me.
ME: Okay?
RECRUITER GIRL: Yeah, we do, but ... working at a family business isn't something that would count. We need outside references, payroll stubs.
ME: Okay, I guess I'm now wondering why I was invited down here. Look, I just got out of high school. I have no criminal background, no bad credit marks. And you said your agency works with people who have limited or no experience. If "counted experience" IS what you require, how does someone with no "counted" experience get experience?
RECRUITER GIRL: It's a catch-22, I hate to say. (*giggles*) You know what, I'm going to have my supervisor come in here and give you suggestions. If you would like to wait out there again for just a few minutes, and he'll be right with us.
I walk back to their front office near the reception desk to wait again. I notice another guy sitting out there filling out an application. He didn't look much older than me, and ironically he was wearing a similar-styled suit. He's then called up for an interview - to another recruiter - who discovers he doesn't "speak" English, only Spanish. They forgot to close the door to the office, so I heard everything that was said (they found a bilingual employee to interpret). I was correct in my insinuation that he wasn't much older than me at the time - 19. Not only that, but he had no employment experience. Nor could they verify that he was a legal citizen. They even went the extra step via phone calls to try to verify his status. I never heard the outcome, but it was clearly stated that he had no job experience. I don't know if they landed him a job or not, but they were definitely going the extra mile to find leads in the private sector for him.
About 25 minutes later, this heavyset, dorky-looking guy named "Chad" approaches me, identifying himself as the recruiter girl's manager. He ushers me back into her office and asks the same questions she had asked before getting irrelevant specifics on my current "living situation", I guess for his own chubby-man jollies.
Then he gives his million dollar advice:
CHAD: If you want my honest opinion, I can't really see you fitting in an office environment now. At least, not with the companies contracted with us. Loan officers require a bachelors degree, and most entry-level customer service require a minimum of six months experience. Sales and advertising positions are the same way in their experience requirements.
ME: And how do I get this "experience"? Again, your co-worker told me-
CHAD:Well, like my colleague said, it's a catch-22. You need experience to get experience. Tsk. tsk. tsk. If you're in good physical health, the U.S. military might be a good option.
ME: I'm not looking to get into the army.
CHAD: Like I said, it's AN OPTION. It comes with great benefits, great promotional opportunities, and you're getting experience without needing experience. I can recommend some recruiters.
ME: (laughing) How about recommending I get a bachelor's degree, if that's what most work requires without experience? Again, why was I invited to come down here? It sounds like we're wasting each others' time.
RECRUITER GIRL: (giggling) He's TRYING to help you!
CHAD: Well, look, I'm going to give you my card. We will keep your resume on file for 6 months. We are an Equal Opportunity Employer-
Without saying anything, I abruptly left the room before he finished talking and without taking his personal business card. I thought about bringing up the issue of the "non English speaking applicant", however, when he said his company was "EOE", he had inadvertently answered the question I was about to ask.
Once back at the apartment, I continue to let my aunt know over the phone that things weren't going anywhere. The aunt wasn't shaken by my experience earlier that day, and was actually more upset that I referred to the interviewer as a "girl" rather than a "woman".
I also went into detail about the Clinton Hill neighborhood 's temperament and the suspicious people Eliot (or his roommate?) let into the apartment, as well as what they did.
I also mentioned the lack of privacy and safety of my personal belongings (which had obviously been tampered with when I was away from the apartment). And most of all, the nocturnal gun pops/gangbangers outside. The aunt's response?
"I'm really proud of you, it sounds like your job search is working out well and things are getting better! I've talked to my friends about employment leads but I'm still waiting to hear back from them. You should be respectful of Eliot's surroundings and his personal business. Please remember to pay him the weekly rent on time, and remember, it's a virtue to be living in NYC at the amount you're paying, you should be thankful of this generosity!"
Indeed, letting a stranger sleep in a small empty office that you don't even use - and then charge him more than what you're paying for rent - sounds like generosity and selflessness.
And it would get better...
After less than two weeks of staying there, Eliot comes home one day and tells me that I owe him money for a phone bill. The amount he claimed? $45-$50. The only phone calls I made on the guy's landline were within city limits (area codes 212, 718, and 917) and none averaged more than 2 minutes talk time. Unless NYC phone companies cram charges and get away with it, that just didn't add up. I asked Eliot for an explanation but didn't get more than sideways answers. He didn't even disclose a physical copy of a "statement" when I asked to see it. Then, I said...
"I'm not paying this bill."
"You're not paying this bill?" Eliot tried to clarify, in his Jacko voice.
"Nope."
Eliot then looked down, frowned, and the apartment was completely silent for the rest of the day.
Later that same afternoon, the aunt phones me. Eliot had told her (or relayed to Susan to tell her) about my refusal to pay the "phone bill". The telecom went sorta like this:
AUNT: I can't believe you're acting this way! If that's the amount he says you owe him, then that's what you owe him!
ME: So if you owed me money and I just gave you some odd figure off the top of my head, you would take my word, you won't question it?
AUNT: You're living in someone else's place, you're using THEIR utilities, and you obviously lack a sense of gratitude! That's it! You've broken too many of my rules! I originally told you I'd let you start joint checking with by bank account to save fees, well now you'll have to get your own bank account! I don't want my money with your money. And if you don't pay Eliot what you owe him, I'm going to tell every family member here not to help you with anything at all! And then you'll definitely be out on the street! (Then the aunt hangs up the phone.)
Keep in mind that even if I did owe that guy for a "phone bill", and for that amount (which, obviously, I didn't), there was little chance I'd be able to pay the balance in full immediately in cash. I had money on hand, but not much. I needed to pay for food, transportation in the desperate job search and "proceeds" toward the "rent profiteering" fund. Also, I only had personal checks of a non-local credit union, and it was neither quick, easy or cheap for me to get on-hand cash. In addition, funds I had in my name were shrinking at a rapid pace.
Apparently - according to the aunt - my well-being had less relevance than a fleeced telephone "bill" a friend of her friend claimed I owed. You could imagine how good that made me feel.
I was so angry/pushed over the edge at that point that it was time to fight back. I had nothing to lose.
Eliot would fly to North Carolina to visit his family for two days, which would leave the apartment all to myself (the tweaker guy was in the process of a deliberated move.) This also gave me time to carefully plan a "ruse" to both move out of the apartment and get even. I decided to tell the aunt, after further discussion with Eliot over the phone bill, that "I would have to be out in 2 days, when Eliot got back from his trip." Consider my wordage - I wasn't told I needed to be out, just "I would need to be out." That could be interpreted ambiguously, so I wasn't "lying".
But my intended "interpretation" was clear: I wanted to make it sound like Eliot got so angry about me not paying his $50 "phone bill" that I was forced to leave. Originally the aunt had called my bluff and assumed I would follow through with her "threat of abandonment" and pay the "debt". She never imagined I would continue to contest it or that my refusal would result in being "asked" to move out. Therefore she was put in quite a bind. However, rather than making a new "living arrangement", she wanted to discuss the situation with Eliot and possibly "negotiate" a lower "phone bill amount" (HA! HA! HA!). Unfortunately for my aunt, Eliot wasn't in town - he left his personal cell phone at the apartment and took his business cell with him.
The aunt didn't know the second number, I did.
Would I give her that number when she asked for it? No way!
Nope, I decided to use the aunt's threat of "no more help and abandonment" to my own advantage: the day Eliot would return, I told her that I would leave and make a homeless encampment in the bushes of Central Park. But not before handing over the "duplicate" keys to Eliot's leasing office, and letting them know which apartment unit I was staying in while not being on a lease. Eliot was Susan's best friend, Susan was my aunt's best friend, and you could only imagine what that would do to everyone's friendship. But there were no threats (or lies) coming from me. I was in the clear.
The ball was now in my court, and I was ready to throw it hard.
Regardless of the fallout, what I was being put through needed to END in one way or another.
And I also wanted to set the record straight with my folks back home ...
In the time-frame I was in NYC, I probably only talked to them around 2-3 times. But I never called them, they called me. The reason for this was because they were in the process of separation and I didn't want to "take sides" with either parent. In addition, I wanted to be as frugal as possible in terms of phone usage, so I never called long distance on anyone's phone. The times I did talk to my folks, I basically told them that things weren't working out as described...AND promised.
Their response - as usual - was total cluelessness and indifference. As long as they heard my voice, even if I sounded angry, terrified or distraught, they assumed I was doing "fine". If they didn't hear from me or found out that I was on the street, then they'd know something was up.
The night before Eliot returned, I left the apartment for a short walk down the street to buy a long distance phone card so I could call my parents and let them know what was really going on. This was around 10:30pm, which wasn't the smartest time to be outside in that type of neighborhood. However, there was an East/West time difference, and my folks wouldn't be back home until later in the evening. Fortunately there were no incidents besides heckling by intoxicated derelicts on the street.
I thought that was going to be the only "occurrence" that night.
I enter the lobby of the building, go into the elevator, push the button to the floor where I was staying, and by the time it reaches that floor, the doors won't open. I wait about a minute, and they still don't open. I then press (what looked like) a button that would manually open the doors, but nothing happens. Then I press the same floor button again, and the elevator quickly descended downward as if the wire snapped. I grab on to the railing on the walls. Within 5 seconds, the elevator slammed down back to the first floor, the doors quickly open, and I got out, shaken up but uninjured. I proceed to use the stairs to get back to Eliot's apartment, and quickly make a phone call to my folks.
When I reach them, it was clear that my aunt had been talking to them as well, but never told them the real story. The aunt claimed that I was "exploring the city, doing great, that I found a permanent place to stay, that I was still looking for a job and using her "contacts."" I told them that was all untrue, that there were NEVER any "job contacts", that she used me to financially help out her friends, and in the process, I nearly ended up on the street. I also explained that she didn't let me stay at her residence, despite her negligence. Finally, I told them about a "phone bill" that I didn't owe and how I was threatened over it. My parents were at first in disbelief over all the allegations, and called the aunt. This would lead to a 3 way shout-fest between myself, my aunt, and my parents in attempt to clarify the situation. By the end, both parents had a clear picture of what was going on. Quite simply, I was royally lied to, mislead and financially exploited ...by someone of my own kinship. Not everyone wanted to admit it, since my family rarely likes taking accountability for misdeeds and mistakes. But the truth was clear.
Eliot would get word of what was going on while he was still on his trip, and he wasn't happy about it. The entire apartment bill of $1200 would soon be in his hands. There was no one else to financially exploit. And I don't think anyone in their right-fuckin' mind would pay $100 a week to sleep in the ghetto "skybox" like the one I stayed in.
What would happen after the Clinton Hill-Brooklyn stay I'll cover in PART IV, the next and final installment of my Summer 2000 NYC misadventure.
I'm going to end this chapter with analysis on my final two weeks in Clinton Hill-Brooklyn:
Every day, I looked out the window of the apartment studyroom and saw this:
I didn't take the above pictures; Both images are actually a rough MS paint modification of another picture made to simulate what I saw, but it's a decent "estimate" as to what my view of lower Manhattan looked like from the Clinton Hill apartment. After each fruitless day of job interviewing, I would sit on a wobbly chair in the room late at night and glance out, for several minutes to hours. It didn't bore me at all. There was little change in the backdrop - it was almost as "frozen" as the picture, except for flashing lights at the top of each of the WTC towers.
Back then, this view represented optimism. Sure, I was disenchanted over what was going on each day. But this backdrop epitomized a sense of "hope and prospect". The WTC had offices for many "Fortune 500" accounting/finance companies, which generally come with good salaries. I had interviewed for companies in Downtown lower Manhattan and the grandiosity of the nearby towers made these leads so rewarding. That's what was going through my thought process at the time. Nowadays - knowing what would happen exactly a year from September 2000 - the image is a surreal and haunting one, something I wish I never saw in person. It was also a big WHAT IF? What if - in the unlikely event - I had been successful in my job search in lower Manhattan and I held onto a job for at least 12 months? Way too surreal.
While I had been browsing through NYTimes newspapers for jobs, one of the "Sunday Editions" had a glossy "exclusive" of human interest tales - stories about young people who made residence in New York City after arriving (or being raised there) with nothing at all:
One segment chronicled musician Lou Reed, who was penniless before joining the Velvet Underground. In the early 1960's, Reed got by in NYC by donating blood for cash and eating at White Castle. Another story documented a Pennsylvania teen who hitchhiked to NYC with just two oranges and three cents in his pocket during the Summer of 1999; before becoming a GAP store manager, he survived on the streets by hustling. Another story documented a 26-year-old guy born of Russian immigrants in East Queens who lived a life of crime and drug addiction before turning his life around (he had disappeared 8 months before the publication, and neither his friends or girlfriend knew of his current whereabouts.) Another story documented a 21-year-old woman from Ireland who established herself by taking advantage of wealthy guys in the Lower East Side "club scene".
It was difficult to relate to any of these stories. Although I had a less than fortunate upbringing like many of these people, I independently established my own capital at an early age, since it was obvious my parents would be uninvolved in my future. I never committed any crimes, I never did drugs and I never loafed on the skids or used others to advance my own interests. I never belonged to a group that would benefit from "political correctness". Hence, while some of these stories were interesting from a "character study" POV, they were either dated or uninspiring.
There was one "bright spot" before leaving Brooklyn: Sherry, the "step cousin" girlfriend of the filmmaker in the family, gave me the cell phone # for Adam, an executive producer who had worked with her movie director boyfriend. As you will see on the IMDb, Adam had a very impressive production resume even before 2000. I called and left a message on his cell #, and unlike the Rob douchebag, I actually got a call back, and the guy was very personable. I discussed possible future film work - acting extra, gaffer, production assistant - anything that was available - even if minor and low paying - I was down with.
It should be important to note that the relatives got me in contact with the producer AFTER the Eliot/aunt mess had taken place. When the smoke & dust cleared, I still had NO intention to pay Eliot any "phone bill" without seeing a bill. As you'll also recall, the aunt told me that if I refused to pay Eliot's "bill", she would tell every family member in NYC not to "help me". With everything considered now, the aunt's "blackmail credibility" was proven to be as effective as Don Fanucci - absolutely useless in every regard.
The ball was also still in my court as far as informing on Eliot's leasing violations, and doing so wouldn't have effected my next and final "living arrangement" in NYC. The Bronx relatives discouraged such an action as evil and vindictive, but acknowledged it had nothing to do with them and was a matter between myself, my aunt, and Eliot. The aunt was absolutely powerless at this point. Although Eliot was a sleazy character, he didn't strike me as the type that would resort to violence. Nonetheless, I decided against ratting the guy out. I'm not a snitch, and I didn't want to sink to the same level of maliciousness as my aunt.
The end to this travesty would be anti-climactic and I would suffer many losses. Still, my last two weeks in NYC would be more peaceful, and in many ways, self-revealing.
TO BE CONTINUED