EPTBy Gary Harris
When I was ten years old my dad took my sister, my brother , his new wife and I to DisneyLand in Souther California. It still to this day is one of my few pure and happy memories from a string of turbulant years... That was my first trip.
The second trip was eleven years later. I was going down to work in Santa Anna at the Mainplace mall. I drove down right after Thanksgiving dinner so that I could sell Shoe Magik on Black Friday at one of the nations best retail locations.
My trip was going to last one week. The Plan was to make fifteen hundred bucks, drive home and spend two weeks with my son and then drive back for the L.A Auto Show, which last eight days, make another 2,000, to 3,000 and end my season with a nice buffer until Feburary which is when the Florida Sate Fair kicks off.
The C.E.O of Uprising Enterprises, Sean Wiltsher, had offered to pay for my hotel during my stay in Santa Anna after I had voiced concern about how much I would walk away with after having to pay for Food and Gas and Hotel.
I was stoked about the money I was going to make plus this was the first time Sean had made the offer to pay for hotels for anybody working a mall.
I was going to kill it!
Before I left I stopped at a gas station and bought all the essentials; 2 Red Bulls, 2 cheese danishes, a cup of double caffinated coffe and a pack of Marlboro Twenty Sevens.
The Drive down was like most anybody else who've taken the Five south to SoCal would experience except maybe a little faster. I left Sacramento at 8 o'clock and arrived at the Red Roof Inn in Santa Anna at one fifteen in the A.M. I think it worked out to averaging 110 to 120 miles a hour, but time fades the memory of insignificant accomplishments so I can't remember exactly.
I got down to the hotel, where I was supposed to stay for the trip, met up with another salesman, Curley (think george from Of Mice And Men), who was a little grumpy about being woken up, and then discovered the room only had one bed, for the two of us. I tried to remain positive as I got a pillow and blanket and settled onto the floor. Just three and a half hours after I finally put my head down my alarm went off and I felt like shit. All of the caffine had depleted my reserves.
Before going to the mall which was about two blocks away I had been asked to drive Curley to the Westfield mall in Brea. Over the phone is was described as "about eight miles as the crow flies" ... Well round trip with traffic and getting lost twice took just about two hours.
I was late.
My trip hadn't started out that great. As a trained salesperson you know how to wash your hands of any negative thoughts or feelings. The problem is that even with a clear Zen-like mind you can still feel physical anxiety which is much harder to manage.
After setting up my display I was off to the food court for coffee.
There was no Starbucks.
I settled for the only place with a barista setup. I ordered my usual, a qaud expresso in a short cup. I never figured out what exactly I did get but it was disgusting. I drink four shots straight and to me it was disgusting.
My day went terribly. It turns out that Santa Anna is about 80% hispanic, which is normally a great crowd for me, since I am a very tan-dark haired - brown eyed caucasian, so normally I fit in perfectly. Except when most of the latino's are first generation ..... which means little to no english.
All told I made a hundred and thirty dollars after tips in 14 hours. The year before on Black Friday I made four hundred dollars in my own city!
Now at about six p.m when I was at 50 dollars or so, the C.E.O, Sean dropped by the mall. He came to tell me he had been thinking about it and that "working in a mall isn't like a show" and that he didn't want to set a presedent of paying for hotels for mall employees.
I was fucked. I was pissed. I was fucking pissed.
Seans recommendation to me was to split a room with Curley(George). I hate Curley. He is a peice of shit in everyway. He has 11 kids that he doesn't support, he lies and worst of all he thinks ALL white people are out to get him!
I politely informed Sean that Curley was on his own. I made 80 dollars in the next four hours and split.
I had 150 dollars to my name. I have Metro PCS which is NorCal only cell phone service. So no phone. No friends. And no clue where the fuck anything was.
The per night rate at the Red Roof Inn was 80 dollars per night. That would leave me seventy dollars! There was no way that I worked 14 hours with no sleep to profit 50 dollars.... not a chance.
For the first time I was going to sleep in my car.
It took me fifteen minutes to find a good spot to park. Before I reclined my seat, I decided to have a smoke ( my last one). When I was finished and lying back in my seat I could feel despair welling up inside me. I couldn't push it away so I closed my eyes praying for rest .... and then I crashed.
I awoke to the hydrolic screams of a dump truck feeling like a used condom. It was 6:15 and I had to be at work in forty-five minutes. I reached into my pocket and remembered I was out of smokes. I changed my cloths in my car and realized I hadn't packed a single pair of socks. I was starving and dodging my own thoughts like bullets as I went looking for a gas station. I found one and begrudgingly pulled out seven dollars for caffine and nicotine.
I got to work about ten minutes early feeling a little better with my system requirements having been met.
I setup my display of Jordans and Nikes then did my opening numbers. I streched and prepared to "Grow Roots". I came to SoCal to make money and I was all geared up to do just that.
By about 2 o'clock I had already made over two hundred dollars. I was on fire. When ten rolled around I ended the day just over 300 dollars. At about three the mall had cooled off completely, regardless of my on firedness. I headed over to the Red Roof Inn and spent eighty dollars for a shower and a bed. Then another $17 on pizza and soda. Going to sleep that night I was running the numbers in my head and I had about $320 dollars of profit after two fourteen hour days. I was making shit money (Less then 12/hour) I resolved No More Hotels.
I fell asleep with depair nipping at the heels of my concious mind.
The next morning started off badly. I had set the alarm on my useless phone for 6:30.............. P.M and didn't wake up until 9. Nobody cared that I was late but waking from a dead sleep and panicing isn't a great way to start a day, plus in my haste I left my barely eaten pizza behind which I had planned to eat for breakfast,lunch and dinnner.
My nerves were in shambles all day. My sales were abysmal and I was looking forward to another night in my car. I was pretty fucking depressed at this point. Since it was Sunday the malls holiday hours were shorter (open tell 9 instead of 10) though it didn't effect me. I left at 7 having made only 50 dollars all day after food and coffee.
I spent the next five hours driving around Southern California. I was amazed, everywhere I went in every direction it was an endless expanse of people and lights and concrete. There is nothing even close to it in Northern California.
At some point I saw a freeway leading to Long Beach, it was a familiar name to me so I decided to go check it out. I knew the Hawaiian Gardens was in Long Beach. To me spending the night playing poker sounded alot more appealing then eating and sleeping in my car, alone.
Well it wasn't as easy to find as I hoped. Somehow I ended up in New Port Beach driving around looking at an entire city of McMansions. I was curising around going slightly under the speed limit. In a red Camero. I have no clue how long he was behind me but at the point I noticed him he was flashing his lights telling me to pull over , over the cruisers loud speaker. My history with police officers is legendary.
"Pull over, take your keys out of the ignition and put your hands on the wheel"
I followed his directions, exactly.
After maybe thirty or forty seconds two police officers pincered my car weilding flashlights. The way a Camero is shaped the entire car is easily visible to somebody looking directly inside. Also there is no trunk and no locking glove compartment, so it isn't the best car to conceal anything illegal in.
With my hands on the wheel I couldn't help but smile.
Tap.Tap.Tap. On my window.
"Roll your window down, sir"
"I can't the keys are on the dashboard" I said with my hands still on the wheel.
"Roll down your window"
Beaming ear to ear I put my keys back in the ignition and rolled down my window.
"License and Registration" the cop grunted and I quickly produced both. He then went back to his car while the other cop continued to probe my car with his flashlight. When he came back he gave me my DL and Registration.
As he leaned his fat head into my car he said "So Mr.Harris have you had anything to drink tonight?". With his face maybe seven inches from my face I said "Nope" while blowing as much of my rank coffee and ciggerette breath as possible directly into his nostrils.
He pulled his head out.
"Your a long way from Roseville, Mr.Harris"
"and I'm lost!" I exclaimed.
"What?" he chortled, clearly caught off gaurd.
"I was trying to find the Hawaiian Gardens in Long Beach, got lost and ended up turning off the freeway to get directions , about three or four miles back and haven't found anything open since......"
"Why were you creeping around at 30 mph if you were looking for directions?"
"Duude, I've never seeen so many huuuge houses before, this city is awwesome, I'm going to come back tomarrow, when its light out... HEY, do you know where the Hawaiian Gardens are?"
"Yes you just go..."
"Hold on!" I cut him off holding up my index finger. I quickly produced a notebook and penciil and handed them to him.
"Will you write them out, I have a terrible memory, wild youth ya know, anyway it would be a big help officer"
"No problem" he was totally forced to help me.
After about 3 minutes of teamwork they finished writing out the most well crafted and neat set of directions I've seen.
And I was on my way.
To Be continued....
