Bread & the Bread Line
A few posts ago, (it's been so long it's hard to tell), I mentioned a "freak out" I had at the church in regards to obtaining a real bed to heal my sore hip. The inability of the church to provide me with the church van hit a sore spot. A very sore spot, as they were not paying me anything. Yes, you heard me. Nothing. Let me explain.
In June I graduated from Northwestern and knew that I would be moving to Los Angeles at some point. "At some point" meant before the end of the year. I was set to live with Robert F. Cosnahan, III (RFC3) who would be attending grad school out here at AFI. I would save money over the summer and find a job once in L.A. My friend, and former African American studies professor hooked me up with a non-profit organization on the South Side of Chicago that partnered churches and schools to mentor children. The organization, One Church One School, was in dire need of a secretary as their last one had suddenly been told by the Lord to move to Texas. She followed suit, and OCOS was left without an administrative assistant a few months before their annual conference. I offered to help out until I found something that paid more and was closer to Evanston. After a few weeks I was hired on at American Intercontinental University Online as an admissions advisor. That job had its own nightmares, but the pay was good and the commute wasn't terrible. I continued working for OCOS on the weekends as it left me feeling warm and fuzzy. I also needed the extra money as I was saving all I could for L.A. Through OCOS I met Rev. Byron L. Smith, Sr. who was working at the church. He was aware that I was saving money to move to L.A. and informed me that he had been transfered to a church in the Los Angeles area. He offered me a job as his secretary once I moved. I accepted, as this allowed me to hold off on the job search until I was in California. I was saved. Or so I thought.
Rev. Smith became Pastor Smith in Pasadena. He had been sent West to build up a fledgling congregation with his talent and charisma. He and his family moved to California 2 months before I did. We stayed in phone contact during this time to make sure the deal was still set. Occassionally when talking to Smith on the phone, his comments struck me as crossing the silent line. For exmaple, one comment was about how well I'd tan in the California sunshine, and that skin like mine must tan well. (cringe) However, the stares of lecherous men at the Online University had numbed me to this type of subtle commentary.
However, from the start of my move to California it was apparent that Smith had no concept of the challenges I was facing. I drove cross-country alone, arriving in L.A. on a Sunday night. He wanted me to start work that Wednesday. Okay. That was the first clue. I explained to him that I would need $15/hour to balance my student loans and rent needs. He acknowledged, and said we'd work it out. We tucked this information away as something we would deal with later.
Later turned out to be November when I had the bed issues. I had been working at the church for a month and they had paid me nothing. Not a dime. I snapped when they were unable to even help me obtain a bed. A bed to sleep on. I snapped, and confronted Smith. I called him a hypocrite, claiming that he wanted to "help people" and that he couldn't help me. I asked him how he thought I was paying my bills, that I needed $15/hour to pay my bills, and that I was living off of the money I'd saved for California. He commented that I may want $15/hour but that the church couldn't afford that much. I clarified that I needed $15/hour as it was the bare minimum I needed to earn to pay my bills. I started crying, I talked about my family situation--that my parents were in no position to help me financially, and that I had no safety net whatsoever. He had a very sad look on his face, and said that he'd make some calls, talk to the Bishop, do whatever he had to do and find the money. In the interim he suggested I look for another job. This was the day before Thanksgiving. I cried all the way home and fell asleep on my horrible futon.
At this point I started my job search. Before I had planned to do a few months at the church, maybe even a year, so long as I was being paid decently and could write on the side. However, this plan was completely changed upon my confrontation of Smith. The event left me shaken and questioning organized religion. Let me explain. I was raised Catholic. My mom's side of the family is Catholic. My Uncle is a priest in Ghana. My dad is a non-practicing Lutheran. In regards to religion I know the basics of the majors: Catholism, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Mormonism. But when it comes to all the little denominations of Christianity I don't know a Methodist from a Baptist. What's the difference between a Presbyterian, a 7 Day Adventist, an Episcopalian, and a Pentecostal? I have no fucking idea. Smith's church was Christian Methodist Episcopal. [History lesson: The CME church was originally the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church founded by black preachers in the late 19th century. In the 1950s they changed the name to Christian Methodist Episcopal to put the emphasis on religion instead of race]. So you understand where I'm coming from I'm going to explain my point of view. We're not having a religious debate here, and I'm not calling the Roman Catholic Church perfect -- I don't think it's possible for organized religion to be perfect. These are my thoughts; here it goes. I was raised Catholic. In the Catholic Church, (hold your molestation jokes, please), the Priests are poor. They don't own anything. They live on the church grounds, and they have no money. They can't get married, they don't have sex (keep holding), and they take a vow of poverty. Priests are trained at a seminary. (Cyznski, maybe you have some insight as a Polish Catholic). In comparison, Pastor Smith had nice suits and a blue Mustang. He didn't have a completed bachelors degree and had never gone to a seminary. He started as a preacher, and by started, he began when he decided to be a preacher. This meant he went around "preaching the word of God." Okay fine, that's what Jesus did. It's just that in this day and age people can and sometimes do use the word of God to justify all kind of horrible shit. It was hard for me to work with someone who was constantly pushing Christianity (and trying to convert me to his brand of it) while being a tremendous hypocrite in the process. Each week he would harp on tithing to the congregation and then not pay me. He always wanted new members to join the church so that he could "touch more lives." "Touching more lives" was also explained to me as: more church members=more tithes=more ministries=bigger church=Eileen gets paid. He blamed the congregation for his "not being able" to pay me, saying that he couldn't fire the current church secretary (a sweet old chain-smoker with a gross wet cough and no computer skills) even if she was incompetent. His having to pay her prevented him from paying me. He had other schemes to supplement my pay. He wanted me to "spearhead" a tutoring program that utilized federal No Child Left Behind money (don't get me started). The only problem was, it would take months to get the program off the ground and there was no guarantee I'd get paid.
After the Thanksgiving blow up I learned I couldn't trust the church. I had thought, gee, moving to L.A. it will be good to be with Christians who won't fuck me over. At least the industry scum would have paid me minimum wage. At the same time, it's not like I blamed God for any of this, on the contrary I started regularly going to a Catholic Church in my neighborhood. Smith told me to keep track of my hours and backpay so that the church could pay me back someday. I refused to come in 5 days a week anymore, cutting it down to 2 as they wouldn't be able to pay me back. Pastor Smith cut me a check for $250 in the middle of December. I'd agreed to settle for $10/hour at this point and was actively going on job interviews. This saddened him as he wanted me to stay. (HA! Yes, the man is/was delusional). By the middle of December they owed me roughly $1300.
With the help of Craigslist I got last minute Christmas airfare to Philadelphia at low rates. I snuggled in my Mother's bosom for 10 days and took a vacation from Smith. Over break he called me to say that the old secretary was retiring and that he would love for me to work at the church full time. They could afford to pay me $525 every 2 weeks and they would continue to pay me until they paid me what they owed me. Upon my return to L.A. I let him know there was no way I'd work for the church full time when they still owed me money from October! I told him he'd agreed to pay me twice already and thus far, I'd only seen $250; why would I ever agree to work there full time and be fucked over more? To top it off, he made it seem like I was obsessed with money and always harping on it! I told him that I only had enough money for the month of January. I needed a new full time job of at least $15/hour by the end of the month or I would be out of money. That was the bottom line.
Scary times.
In the meantime, my Grandmother had had dinner with my father's cousin, Debbie, who lives in L.A. Grandma harped on me to call her and see if she had any connections. I emailed Debbie (who does contract DVD sales out of her condo) my resume, she passed it on to a man she knew, and I was hired at the Motion Picture Licensing Corporation before the end of January! I peaced the fuck out to Smith and Company (as of today they still own me $1360) and took the MPLC job with 35K /year + health + dental + screener copies of 1st run movies + 401K. Amen.
On MPLC: I'm a licensing representative, have my own office with plants and movie posters, nice co-workers, an hour lunch break. I also have a quasi-horrible commute to Culver City, but I'm only a few miles from the beach, so I go there for lunch (in winter!). Basically, what we do: when you watch a movie and that FBI warning comes up, it means is that you can watch your copy of Showgirls in a private setting, but that in a public setting you must have a license. Example: movies playing in the Bank of America waiting line, movies at a daycare, movies at a church, movie clips in a motivational speaker presentation. We provide licenses for all these people. We're the middleman between the non-theatrical distribution department at the studios and groups that want to hold a public screening. Make sense? I want something more creative long term, but based on the hell I've escaped from this does for now.
Considering all the shit the church put me through, I could be a great deal angrier with them. I'm just so greatful to be out of there. Thank God. Now how long until I get my $1360?
In June I graduated from Northwestern and knew that I would be moving to Los Angeles at some point. "At some point" meant before the end of the year. I was set to live with Robert F. Cosnahan, III (RFC3) who would be attending grad school out here at AFI. I would save money over the summer and find a job once in L.A. My friend, and former African American studies professor hooked me up with a non-profit organization on the South Side of Chicago that partnered churches and schools to mentor children. The organization, One Church One School, was in dire need of a secretary as their last one had suddenly been told by the Lord to move to Texas. She followed suit, and OCOS was left without an administrative assistant a few months before their annual conference. I offered to help out until I found something that paid more and was closer to Evanston. After a few weeks I was hired on at American Intercontinental University Online as an admissions advisor. That job had its own nightmares, but the pay was good and the commute wasn't terrible. I continued working for OCOS on the weekends as it left me feeling warm and fuzzy. I also needed the extra money as I was saving all I could for L.A. Through OCOS I met Rev. Byron L. Smith, Sr. who was working at the church. He was aware that I was saving money to move to L.A. and informed me that he had been transfered to a church in the Los Angeles area. He offered me a job as his secretary once I moved. I accepted, as this allowed me to hold off on the job search until I was in California. I was saved. Or so I thought.
Rev. Smith became Pastor Smith in Pasadena. He had been sent West to build up a fledgling congregation with his talent and charisma. He and his family moved to California 2 months before I did. We stayed in phone contact during this time to make sure the deal was still set. Occassionally when talking to Smith on the phone, his comments struck me as crossing the silent line. For exmaple, one comment was about how well I'd tan in the California sunshine, and that skin like mine must tan well. (cringe) However, the stares of lecherous men at the Online University had numbed me to this type of subtle commentary.
However, from the start of my move to California it was apparent that Smith had no concept of the challenges I was facing. I drove cross-country alone, arriving in L.A. on a Sunday night. He wanted me to start work that Wednesday. Okay. That was the first clue. I explained to him that I would need $15/hour to balance my student loans and rent needs. He acknowledged, and said we'd work it out. We tucked this information away as something we would deal with later.
Later turned out to be November when I had the bed issues. I had been working at the church for a month and they had paid me nothing. Not a dime. I snapped when they were unable to even help me obtain a bed. A bed to sleep on. I snapped, and confronted Smith. I called him a hypocrite, claiming that he wanted to "help people" and that he couldn't help me. I asked him how he thought I was paying my bills, that I needed $15/hour to pay my bills, and that I was living off of the money I'd saved for California. He commented that I may want $15/hour but that the church couldn't afford that much. I clarified that I needed $15/hour as it was the bare minimum I needed to earn to pay my bills. I started crying, I talked about my family situation--that my parents were in no position to help me financially, and that I had no safety net whatsoever. He had a very sad look on his face, and said that he'd make some calls, talk to the Bishop, do whatever he had to do and find the money. In the interim he suggested I look for another job. This was the day before Thanksgiving. I cried all the way home and fell asleep on my horrible futon.
At this point I started my job search. Before I had planned to do a few months at the church, maybe even a year, so long as I was being paid decently and could write on the side. However, this plan was completely changed upon my confrontation of Smith. The event left me shaken and questioning organized religion. Let me explain. I was raised Catholic. My mom's side of the family is Catholic. My Uncle is a priest in Ghana. My dad is a non-practicing Lutheran. In regards to religion I know the basics of the majors: Catholism, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Mormonism. But when it comes to all the little denominations of Christianity I don't know a Methodist from a Baptist. What's the difference between a Presbyterian, a 7 Day Adventist, an Episcopalian, and a Pentecostal? I have no fucking idea. Smith's church was Christian Methodist Episcopal. [History lesson: The CME church was originally the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church founded by black preachers in the late 19th century. In the 1950s they changed the name to Christian Methodist Episcopal to put the emphasis on religion instead of race]. So you understand where I'm coming from I'm going to explain my point of view. We're not having a religious debate here, and I'm not calling the Roman Catholic Church perfect -- I don't think it's possible for organized religion to be perfect. These are my thoughts; here it goes. I was raised Catholic. In the Catholic Church, (hold your molestation jokes, please), the Priests are poor. They don't own anything. They live on the church grounds, and they have no money. They can't get married, they don't have sex (keep holding), and they take a vow of poverty. Priests are trained at a seminary. (Cyznski, maybe you have some insight as a Polish Catholic). In comparison, Pastor Smith had nice suits and a blue Mustang. He didn't have a completed bachelors degree and had never gone to a seminary. He started as a preacher, and by started, he began when he decided to be a preacher. This meant he went around "preaching the word of God." Okay fine, that's what Jesus did. It's just that in this day and age people can and sometimes do use the word of God to justify all kind of horrible shit. It was hard for me to work with someone who was constantly pushing Christianity (and trying to convert me to his brand of it) while being a tremendous hypocrite in the process. Each week he would harp on tithing to the congregation and then not pay me. He always wanted new members to join the church so that he could "touch more lives." "Touching more lives" was also explained to me as: more church members=more tithes=more ministries=bigger church=Eileen gets paid. He blamed the congregation for his "not being able" to pay me, saying that he couldn't fire the current church secretary (a sweet old chain-smoker with a gross wet cough and no computer skills) even if she was incompetent. His having to pay her prevented him from paying me. He had other schemes to supplement my pay. He wanted me to "spearhead" a tutoring program that utilized federal No Child Left Behind money (don't get me started). The only problem was, it would take months to get the program off the ground and there was no guarantee I'd get paid.
After the Thanksgiving blow up I learned I couldn't trust the church. I had thought, gee, moving to L.A. it will be good to be with Christians who won't fuck me over. At least the industry scum would have paid me minimum wage. At the same time, it's not like I blamed God for any of this, on the contrary I started regularly going to a Catholic Church in my neighborhood. Smith told me to keep track of my hours and backpay so that the church could pay me back someday. I refused to come in 5 days a week anymore, cutting it down to 2 as they wouldn't be able to pay me back. Pastor Smith cut me a check for $250 in the middle of December. I'd agreed to settle for $10/hour at this point and was actively going on job interviews. This saddened him as he wanted me to stay. (HA! Yes, the man is/was delusional). By the middle of December they owed me roughly $1300.
With the help of Craigslist I got last minute Christmas airfare to Philadelphia at low rates. I snuggled in my Mother's bosom for 10 days and took a vacation from Smith. Over break he called me to say that the old secretary was retiring and that he would love for me to work at the church full time. They could afford to pay me $525 every 2 weeks and they would continue to pay me until they paid me what they owed me. Upon my return to L.A. I let him know there was no way I'd work for the church full time when they still owed me money from October! I told him he'd agreed to pay me twice already and thus far, I'd only seen $250; why would I ever agree to work there full time and be fucked over more? To top it off, he made it seem like I was obsessed with money and always harping on it! I told him that I only had enough money for the month of January. I needed a new full time job of at least $15/hour by the end of the month or I would be out of money. That was the bottom line.
Scary times.
In the meantime, my Grandmother had had dinner with my father's cousin, Debbie, who lives in L.A. Grandma harped on me to call her and see if she had any connections. I emailed Debbie (who does contract DVD sales out of her condo) my resume, she passed it on to a man she knew, and I was hired at the Motion Picture Licensing Corporation before the end of January! I peaced the fuck out to Smith and Company (as of today they still own me $1360) and took the MPLC job with 35K /year + health + dental + screener copies of 1st run movies + 401K. Amen.
On MPLC: I'm a licensing representative, have my own office with plants and movie posters, nice co-workers, an hour lunch break. I also have a quasi-horrible commute to Culver City, but I'm only a few miles from the beach, so I go there for lunch (in winter!). Basically, what we do: when you watch a movie and that FBI warning comes up, it means is that you can watch your copy of Showgirls in a private setting, but that in a public setting you must have a license. Example: movies playing in the Bank of America waiting line, movies at a daycare, movies at a church, movie clips in a motivational speaker presentation. We provide licenses for all these people. We're the middleman between the non-theatrical distribution department at the studios and groups that want to hold a public screening. Make sense? I want something more creative long term, but based on the hell I've escaped from this does for now.
Considering all the shit the church put me through, I could be a great deal angrier with them. I'm just so greatful to be out of there. Thank God. Now how long until I get my $1360?
posted by Eileen at 2:01 PM
2 Comments:
Incredible story. Glad to hear it worked out (to some degree, git yo money!) in the end though.
Sorry I haven't been keeping up with everyone. I always thought the whole "losing myself to the daily grind" thing was urban legend they tell office workers so they'll go to sleep at night.
-Sonya
Aha! This again confirms my belief that Christianity is evil!
Post a Comment
<< Home