My Year Of Everything

So here’s the deal: one single audition fundamentally changed just about every aspect of my life for the better, allowed me to do what I love for 12 years and counting, still gets mentioned to me every single day, and I almost skipped it. 

I’d moved to New York right out of college, with an entry level media planning gig at Saatchi & Saatchi and a total misunderstanding of how the advertising business works. The copywriting job I thought I’d easily transfer into was out of my reach without a portfolio, and the media job, though full of spreadsheets and charts and CPMs, got me taken out for dinner and drinks a lot. So I stayed put, doing a job I didn’t care about*, forcing my friends to see me in improv shows at night, and totally definitely meaning to reassess my situation someday. Someday. 

And then on a Thursday in April 1998, I went to Billboard.com to check the charts (“All My Life” by K-Ci & JoJo was #1), and I saw the headline: “MTV TO HOLD OPEN CALL FOR NEW VJ’S.” 

My first thought was: well, there’s a reason to call in sick. 

Now, honestly, I figured my chances of getting on the air were slim. But I was 27 by then, surely older than the average person who has a full day to stand in line, and I thought: I’ll shake some hands, I’ll get some business cards, I’ll make some contacts, maybe I’ll get myself a Production Assistant job and start afresh. This will be just the kick in the ass I need. 

But in order to make it happen, a guy like me needs to get in there early. I’m not young or hot or exciting, but I can hold one hell of a conversation. The trick is to get there while the casting people are still interested in having conversations, before the freaks and jerks have worn them down, i.e. within the first hour. 

So on the night of Easter Sunday, the eve of the open call, I set my alarm for 4am. 

And on 4am the day of the open call, my alarm went off. 

And I rolled over and I hit the snooze bar. I looked at the big red numbers. 4:00. Where am I? 4:01. Who are you kidding? It’s unseemly for a guy your age to stand in a line with God knows who, to get passed over for a job on a network whose demo you’re not even in anymore. This is dumb. 4:02. But then, you never know, you might meet someone who needs a writer or a guy to make coffee, and it’s not like you’re dying to go in to the office today anyway. 4:03. Still, embarrassing. What if you run into someone you know? Get three more hours of sleep and then go to your job like a man. 4:04. But you’re 27, you’re single, you’re in New York where you can pretty much do anything you put your mind to, you don’t have to think about anyone other than yourself, and you’re not doing what you want to do, which is dumb. 4:05. Still: EMBARRASSING AND UNSEEMLY. 

At 4:09, my alarm rang again, and I thought: Well, what the hell. I guess I’ll do this big stupid thing. 

Now, in 2010, two things happen every single day. 1) Someone asks me about Jesse Camp (we’ll get there), and 2) I have this thought: if I’d liked my job maybe 1% more, or had had one more beer the night before, I would have gone back to sleep and missed the one meeting that changed my entire life.

This is why I’ve adopted a strict Doing Things policy, and why I recommend it. 

* Though the job was soul-deadening to the max, Saatchi really did resemble my uninformed fantasies of big-city advertising agencies. Pinball machines and Pop-A-Shot for when you’re creatively blocked! Kegs in the atrium conference area on Fridays at 5! A track around the roof for lunchtime! It was like a TV version of a job. Except for the actual job part.