They Call Him Superman

Chapter One: Hollywoods Outcast

A writer once said, ‘In three words I can sum up everything I learned about life; it goes on.’

Those words had rattled me to my very core. The first time I had to read them was in the writing class I had in high school. And even then, I did not understand what they had meant. I had a hard time finding myself after graduation. I did not know what I wanted to do or to be.

I had given college a try, but that hardly lasted a year. I worked at a few stores that are not even worth mentioning, other then it felt like torture. You see, I did not really like people. Or being crowded by strangers. So, I left the floors of stores. Instead I ended up working in warehouses where I either built the product we shipped or filled endless pallets to be shipped. The only good that came with that job was building up muscle in my back.

I grew frustrated, I felt like I was looking everywhere. I was going to even start a YouTube channel, but thought against it. Like I said I was not really a people person. Had you met me four years ago, you would have thought differently.

People change however, and ironically enough…people change people. Through the experiences I went through I ended up colder even a bit more stand offish towards going out with people. I act this way because I love the people I know. My family, cousins, uncles, and aunts. Did I really need anyone else?

I found myself, what I feel to be too late. I started what I loved doing at the age of twenty-three. It took me five years after high school to discover my love and passion. You have seen the Zohan, right? Well if not I recommend it, it has Adam Sandler in it. I always found his movies funny and quotable. Anyway, I found the connection between that character and I because he wanted to cut hair for a living. Human hair…me? I wanted to cut dogs’ hair.

I was born and raised in New Jersey. At the time I loved it because I was close to everyone. My family and friends. My parents soon retired and traveled around the world. That left my sister and I, we shared an apartment for a while. During that time I put myself through a grooming academy and went for the first grooming job I could find which was only part time, so I had to take up two more at different shops to help make ends meet.

Soon, too soon after, my sister had met the man of her dreams. For once a nice boy, a boy who became a man. An army man. They married not even a year later.

Then there was just me. My parents offered me a room to stay in at their house in Saint Thomas, the place they chose to settle down at. However, I could not, I needed to find myself once more. With my family spread out across the country I had decided it was my turn.

I packed up my car and head west, I took up jobs at different salons along the way to better my savings. I wanted to settle to open a shop of my own. I knew though that I could not settle until I made the big leagues. I wanted to groom celebrities’ dogs. It was the only way I could make a comfortable living. I knew there were some groomers in Hollywood who personally groomed only a handful of celebrity dogs because they were groomed so often.

That is how I ended up on the outskirts of Hollywood. The low of the low. I never expected it to have turned against me in the worst way possible. I tried applying to the salons in Hollywood, they all laughed in my face. I was not allowed to work in their salons if I didn’t have a celebrity client coming with me. That leads me to where I am now.

In a dinky crumbling apartment building. Where I only had the necessities. The room was too small and crappy to even try to make it look homey. I had a bathroom and small kitchen; the living room was my bedroom. My grooming table was set up in the corner where I still provided haircuts. Some people I charged, but others I didn’t have the heart to as they too were suffering from low income.

I was barely making it by the skin of my teeth. I knew I had to do something to change my luck. There for I turned to the ads in the paper. It was there that I found employers looking for manual labor people to work in the studio do heavy lifting for movie/tv sets. I found myself once again at a job I would hate but needed until I could get up on my feet again.

I stared at the ad on the paper, I needed to show up to the open interviewing process. I couldn’t turn down steady income no matter what. I needed this job and fast. In fear that I wouldn’t be able to pay my next months rent I got to work on my resumé which was in fact a few pages, but I wanted to be honest and straight forward of whom all my employers were.

The open interviewing process was not for the next few days, which helped with practicing my interview. My father had helped me over the phone too, though he thought it was for my dream job. I still didn’t have the heart to tell them that I was struggling. I wanted them to enjoy their retirement as they worked all their lives to live in peace.

I could hardly sleep a wink though the night before the interview. I don’t understand why I had a hard time doing so, could’ve been the neighbors fighting again. Could’ve been the noise of cars honking on the street. I normally was able to sleep through it, but for some ungodly reason I could not sleep.

The next morning, I was up and ready at five. I took my time driving towards the address for the interview. I kept glancing over at my passenger seat to make sure that my folder, the one that held my resumé was there. I felt the familiar heat creep up the back of my neck, my hands slightly slid on the staring wheel due to the sweat. I had no reason to be feeling nervous or even anxious. I have had many jobs. Too many. So, this interview shouldn’t be any different right?