Tom Neglects You |
Issue 11
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Dream/Nightmare
There was a public design event. I attended it and saw Tom, someone I had my design internship with. “Hey, you’re Tom, right?” He responded, “Yeah, so what?” “Tom? Tommy? I had an internship with you.” “So what? I don’t care.” I was hoping to see if there were open opportunities, while being part of this professional setting. He was neglecting me. We didn’t get along well when I interned with him at his company, Superorganisms. Awake When I got up in the morning, I received a phone text from Ann-Sofi. She’s an architect at Dunsmuir Institute Architects and had contracted me to work as a designer. She asked for my new address to send me my wage and tax statement. I wondered if she was annoyed that I had tried to claim unemployment with her. Working with Ann-Sofi and Tom was not enjoyable. I didn’t perform well because of my natural tendencies to be thorough and deliberate. With Tom, it was a design build internship. We built together a backyard fort made of wood studs. I remember the bulk of our time was centered on an intense argument over painting. My aim was to cover any areas of wood—whether it meant the bottom of the floor or the space between adjacent studs. At the following job, with Ann-Sofi, I didn’t have sufficient knowledge of a drafting and modeling software, and so communication between the architect and me was always unclear. It was hard to focus. With Tom, I left to focus on my senior thesis. With Ann-Sofi, I got fired. It was the shittiest time of my life. I was not able to sustain living in Los Angeles and had decided to leave. I moved to Miami Lakes, Florida. I first met Tom when I was working at Woodbury University Hollywood Outpost (WUHO), the school’s center for experimental exhibitions and multi-disciplinary collaborations. He attended a gallery event, and my job was to sit at the entrance and make sure nobody did anything funny with our art. If anyone sought information relating to the school or WUHO, I’d hand them a flyer or jot down their contact information. I took this opportunity to inform Tom I was looking for work. We later connected and I started my first day chipping away at the ground. The mission was to dig a hole five feet deep with a five-foot diameter opening. This would eventually house a trampoline. Part of this design build internship was to also assist a fort’s construction and finishing it with paint. Digging was straight forward. It was one thing to do, over and over again. The duration of this felt longer because it demanded more physical energy and was repetitive. Eventually, my mind would drift, and I’d imagine being a miniature me using a shovel as a spoon—carving scoops of rocky road ice cream for a giant human being. The rocks were the marshmallows. Most of the time, Tom expressed frustration during our fort construction. This part of the internship required craftsmanship and technique. Most of our conversations were about film, people filming in Los Angeles, and the progression of my senior thesis. I listened more than I spoke. These were conversations I didn’t enjoy. After leaving this project uncompleted so that I could continue developing my senior thesis, I’ve never revisited the site nor spoken to Tom. I hadn’t worked until I graduated in 2015. My academic interest guided me to pursue film. I was involved in multiple film projects that didn’t compensate with money. Instead, they provided lunch, reimbursed gas/mileage, and most gave me my IMDB film credit. After giving that a good run, securing a stable job was my focus. I took a month’s break and flew to my uncle, who lived in Florida. My dear friend, Omar, had told me about a job opportunity in Los Angeles I might be interested in. Ann-Sofi and Scott (her husband), and I organized a Zoom video call to see if we’d be the right fit. Everything rendered a shot worth taking. I returned to my home in Burbank and started at Dunsmuir Architects in November 2015. Not being able to meet most work expectations, I felt worthless. This impacted me emotionally. These moments had shaken my self-confidence and I wondered whether this industry was right for me. I questioned my belonging in this professional pursuit—both in the field and with the company. They were going to bring a new person into the office to work with us. She was competent. Her workspace was positioned between Ann-Sofi and Scott’s desk. The three shared plenty of joyful conversations while I sat at the opposite wall, assessing my work performance. As the days went by, I had doubts about my future and negativity filled my head. I fabricated ideas and opinions the architect may have had about me. I sensed her avoidance of me and thought she had become brief in our conversations. Eventually, they told me I would be helping out Scott with their cabinetry line, Dunsmuir cabinets, which was another part of their company. I didn’t like it because I was taken away from the work I originally was contracted to do. Sometime after, I helped—during a work shift— prepare Ann-Sofi and Scott’s twin adopted sons’ birthday with props and decoration. I wademoted. Finally, they wanted to sit down to talk. I was let go. I was treated to a lunch. Scott, the new girl, and I went to a banh mi restaurant, the Los Angeles Banh Mi Company. Driving back, my playlist song had played: “Cheek to Cheek” by Fred Astaire. Scott had memory flashbacks. We drove around this neighborhood at least an extra lap. It allowed him more time to sing along. Both of them shared memories evoked by this song. He didn’t want to go back to work too soon. We later—along with Ann-Sophie—shared glasses of white wine/champagne. I felt the pressure lift. The day was gorgeous as the breeze rattled the leaves. I looked out of our studio’s window at the right. It didn’t have a wire mesh screen window, nor the tempered glass label. Scott commented that Ann-Sophie had specified that seal wouldn’t be placed on the glass pane . When I think of my first job in architecture, their neighborhood in Los Angeles, the architect’s name, and their derivatives, I’m reminded one of heaviest feelings ever felt: incompetence, disregard, exclusion, and depression. I remember the exact moment when I decided to open up my feelings and situations when I called my mom and uncle. I recall dreading work. During my drives to work, I’d play Jack Johnson’s From Here to Now to You on repeat. His songs offered positivity and elevated my feelings closer to neutrality. That had been how I started my day. The day would end by rewatching Aloha because how can you be sad when in Hawai’i? |
STEPHEN M. NGUYEN lives in Southern California. He graduated from Woodbury University in 2015 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree majoring in interior architecture. He currently works at an international design firm. His hobbies include making cocktails, detailing his roadster while fighting the sunrise, and focusing on the happiness life offers.
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