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A phone assistant for a film producer
Its a 14-hour day.
You get in at 6 a.m. and you leave at 8 p.m. theres no variation on that.
There is no overtime.
Youre a salaried worker, which is I guess how its legal.
My dad helped me break it down so its basically minimum wage.
You cant really get up; there are no real breaks.
Every production job Ive ever had, theres not really a break.
He has four numbers on this sheet we have, and I was calling all of them.
He just blew it off, and then he screamed at me and fired me.
I got physically ill from working there.
Every half an hour Id get diarrhea and have to run to the bathroom because I was so afraid.
I was there for three whole days before I got fired.
The other assistants were really nice to me, because we had to be.
The assistant with the most authority had been there about three months.
There were people who got fired in less than a week.
Less than a day.
When I got fired, one of the other assistants texted me, This isnt you, its him.
We were all in this together.
Youre never gonna move up that became really clear to me right away.
But theres always something being dangled in front of you.
Was this all a lie?
But its not that.
Im afraid of being taken advantage of again, Im afraid of working for the wrong people again.
I dont know if Im gonna take another film job.
In the car, he decided to give me an in-depth performance review about all my flaws.
Meanwhile, I was attempting to not drive us both into oncoming traffic.
Once we arrived, he informed me that I would have to find my own way home.
(This was a Tuesday and I was expected at work the next day.)
I could ride with him back to NYC that night.
But I had to take the subway at 1 a.m. from the Upper West Side to Bushwick.
Most agents in that space just negotiate deal terms.
I was responsible for making sure people got paid at the end of the night.
Very high stakes and anxiety inducing.
Then I went to the bathroom.
While I was sitting on the toilet I heard him shouting, asking everyone where I was.
He was very unhappy about it.
I got yelled at mid-shit.
After that, I had to ask to go to the bathroom and was sometimes told no.
I was 25, and life was terrible.
Its funny, all this time later I still feel guilty telling you this.
Like Im betraying my former boss and the companys trust.
Im years out of it and am doing very well.
But thats what they do to you.
They make you feel a debt to them.
Like theyre doing you a favor.
Like youll never work in this town again if you say something.
Thats why I never spoke up.
I was a terrified little brown boy making terrible money.
If there was going to be mass action, it would have to be fueled by people of color.
And I wasnt brave enough.
I started at $30,000.
I worked my ass off to be promoted to an agents desk.
Everything was fine for a while.
My boss was the one who helped me find an apartment.
And then, she snapped.
It was like a switch flipped, and to this day I dont know what caused it.
She started fabricating things in her head.
Once, she called HR to complain that I was making her feel fat.
She once berated me for telling her I was unable to DVR shows on Netflix.
It remains the only time I was truly afraid of violence in the workplace.
Not one person intervened, despite her office having glass walls.
I relayed all of this to HR, who told me that its part of the job.
I wasnt fired from the company, but I was sent back to the mailroom.
My raise was taken away, and I lost all enthusiasm.
The sickest part of it was the effect it had on my mental health afterward.
I hated myself because I felt like I was weak for not being able to stick it out.
Hollywood preys on young people too afraid to say anything.
Theres a constant fear that if you make any noise, youll be barred from the industry for life.
They know this, and they use it to their advantage.
Im happy to report that I am the first.
It was presented as an expansion of writers PA duties.
My boss made me go across town to get her salads for lunch and ice for her cocktails.
These stories have been edited and condensed for clarity.
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