In my 23 years of life, February 13, 2013 has taken the cake for being the worst day ever, so far. I literally look back on it and think that if someone paid me $5,000 to re-live it… I wouldn’t do it. When I begin this story, you’re probably going to think, “WTF?! I would have killed to do that!!!” Yeah, well, I thought that too when I was presented with the opportunity. (due to the fact that I was going to be working for Justin Timberlake… sort of.)
Just about a week before that dreadful day, I was up late, searching on the internet for internships. This was a school requirement for me, and I wanted to get more things on my resume for the day that I applied to my actual internship. So I was willing to take anything I could get.
Specifically, I applied to one that read “Looking for an L.A. local who owns a car and GPS, to work as an assistant for stylist, _____ _____, who is also the contributing editor of ______ Magazine. NO PAY.”
(I won’t name any names, but the two people I would be working for will be know as “Mr. Stylist,” and his friend, “Miss Stylist.”)
At this time, I dreamt of one day working/writing for a magazine, so I thought this would be an awesome opportunity to make a connection with someone who actually works for a big time magazine.
On February 11, 2013, I woke up to an email from Miss. Stylist, asking if I was available to work the next day on a commercial shoot.
I jumped right out of bed with excitement, and replied that I was available without hesitation… (even though I was going to have to find someone to substitute the classes I would be teaching at the dance studio I work at.) So yes, I gave up work, where I get paid $25 an hour to instead, work for free for people who were going to walk all over me for the next 2 days.
My call time for the next day was 6:00 am. But I was so excited, so waking up was easy. I get to the location, and right away I start working. I start unloading heavy bags filled with clothes and shoes. Steam and iron every piece of clothing, and hang them up in Justin’s trailer. Lay out all of the shoes, etc.
(This was the picture I had posted on instagram when I still thought it was going to be a great experience. lol)
I then meet Mr. Stylist, and this is where it all begins:
Him: Did you steam and iron these?
Him: Well re-do it, I still see wrinkles.
Me: Oh! I’m so sorry
I re-do every one of them, and then I wait for his approval. He takes all of the collard shirts off of the hangers and says he still sees wrinkles. I iron/press them all once again, but he still wasn’t happy with the results. He starts ironing one himself, and realizes he can’t get the microscopic wrinkles out, either.
Then my chore of driving around began. I was asked by Mr. Stylist to go to Target to get V-neck shirts in white and gray… Size SMALL – 3 packs each. (Every time he would give me directions, I wrote every word down to make sure I wouldn’t forget anything.)
And let’s just keep in mind how congested the traffic is in LA.
This Target didn’t have it’s own parking lot, and instead was in a mall. So I had to park 3 floors underground, wait for an elevator, find Target, and get the shirts. I head back, hand them to Mr. Stylist, and he replies:
“Where are the black shirts?” (Even though he only said white and gray)
I go back to Target, repeat the parking process. Including the whole ‘press the button & grab a ticket for the bar to go up so you can enter’ thing…… I get the 3 packs of black shirts in size small as he asked for in the beginning, and go back.
Mr. Stylist: Ugh. Why did you get all of the shirts in a size small?! Justin wears a medium! Go back and return everything. You also need to get dark gray V-necks.
I go back to Target for a THIRD time to return all of the shirts and exchange them for the correct size, and get the extra pack of dark gray.
I return to Mr. Stylist with his bag of shirts. He looks at them and says:
“You forgot the crew necks. I needed V-necks AND crew necks.”
In my head, I’m like, ARE YOU F^@&!(* KIDDING ME?!
But on the outside, I’m all smiles saying, “Okay! No problem!”
FOURTH trip to target, and I was hoping it would be my last. (But don’t worry Hayley, you’ll be going again in an hour.)
Once I get back to the trailer, I un-package, steam, and hang each shirt. Once I finish, I am asked to make a trip to Sherman Oaks (45 minutes away from where we were) to drop off a huge bag of dresses he used to style people at the Grammy’s a few days before this. This huge bag of dresses is in Miss. Stylist’s car, so I go to her car to transfer the dresses to mine. Little did I know this was a massive amount of dresses, to the point where I couldn’t carry them. And of course, I wasn’t offered any help. I grab all of the dresses, and am walking like a hunch back over to my car. There is a security guard watching me struggle, too. Does he offer to help? No.
I make it to Sherman Oaks to give the dresses back, and the worker tells me there is one missing. I call Mr. Stylist and he tells me that the missing dress was in his car, but he forgot to tell me. So I drive 45 minutes back to get the dress, and drive 45 minutes back to Sherman oaks to return the dress… And then another 45 minutes back to the lot!
Whatever food truck was there for everyone to eat was gone by the time I had gotten back… But don’t worry, Mr. Stylist saved me some peanuts and a bag of chips. Too kind.
I eat my “food,” and relax for a total of 5 minutes until Miss. Stylist asks me to go to Target to get her a cable for her printer.
Seriously? Yay for my 5th trip!
I get her damn cable…. Then she asks me a question I would later regret answering:
“Are you free tomorrow?”
Stupidly, I say yes.
Then, a lady, who I won’t name, or say what her job was, comes up to me out of nowhere as I’m walking out of the trailer, and starts yelling at me. Asking me who I am, what I’m doing, and why I’m here. (Whenever people of higher authority are mean/rude to me, I always make sure to answer in a calm, and nice manner.) I explain to her that I was working as an assistant for Mr. Stylist, but she didn’t believe me, and asks me who gave me that title. I’m trying to explain to her, but every time I would, she would cut me off, and just start yelling. Thankfully, Miss Stylist came to the rescue and saved my face from being chewed off. lol (She had even warned about this lady before she arrived.)
I then go to Miss. Stylist’s car to get every garment bag out of her trunk and back seat to put all into my car. The garment bags were the tour outfits of Justin’s backup dancers AND band members. You guys have no idea how heavy this was. They were never ending bags of, take a wild guess….. suits and ties….. I’m talking HEAVY suits. Along with other random outfits of Justin’s, and two duffle bags filled with shoes. And again, I had no help. My car was in a separate parking area, and I couldn’t pull my car around to park next to hers because –
1. she parked on the street which constantly had cars driving through
2. there was no room for her car where I was & there was no room for my car where she was.
I took about 4 trips from her car to mine, just trying to transfer all of these bags. And the security guard is again, just standing there watching me struggle… These garment bags filled my entire trunk to the point where I could barely close it, the entire back of my car, and the front passenger seat
At least once I finished this 20 minute process, the security guard finally let me cut through to get to the trailer. Rather than going all the way to the front of the building, and through 5 different doors, just like I did the whole first part of the day every time I had to leave and come back, I now only had to take 3 steps to get to the trailer… not even joking. He said, “Cut through here, I’ve seen you struggle all day, and I don’t want you to have to walk all the way back around for a 50th time.” How grateful I was for that kind moment where someone actually cared. (Honestly.)
By this time, it was the end of the commercial shoot, so I packed up all of the outfit choices, and the shoes, and put them all in their proper bags. Then had to make 4 trips to the girls car to put them all in there. (Luckily, the security guard continued to let me cut through by this point.)
It’s 10 pm, and I’m thinking I can finally go home, but instead, I have to drive over to Mr. Stylists apartment in West Hollywood to drop half of the bags off. I get there, and the bell hop guy asks if I need help getting them out of my car, and I obviously say yes.
You guys… Even HE struggled to pick just HALF of them up! He had to call someone over to help him because he couldn’t do it. I hope this gives you a better idea of how heavy this all was to carry by MYSELF. So the fact the two grown men had trouble??? I mean come on. I had even called Mr. Stylist to let him know I was here, and he just says “Okay, go ahead and bring everything up.”
Um. Thanks for offering to help…. But he did let me use his credit card for gas since I had no gas to get home.
11 pm, I get in my car, and realize I never ate a meal. The only break I was given to eat was when they so graciously saved me peanuts and a bag of chips. I was starving, but was dying to get home. Luckily there was no traffic at this time of night, so I made it home in 40 minutes.
My back, feet, knees, everything, was in so much pain. My mom made me a late dinner, and all I could think about was the fact that I had to go back the next day. WHYYYYY did I agree to come back the next day?!
If I didn’t have most of Justin’s outfits in my car, I wouldn’t have gone a second day, but unfortunately I’m a good person. lol.
The next day was even worse. THE WORST.
I’ll wrap this day up a little quicker:
This day, I was mainly working for Miss. Stylist. I met at her apartment at 9 am, and we started packing up all of the suits into different luggages for their European tour. I’m thinking “today should be easy,” until I look to see Miss Stylist typing up an entire list of errands I need to run for her. -__-
These errands took a total of 13 hours. THIRTEEN HOURS!!!
I won’t go through every single errand, so don’t worry.
One of the worst ones was having to go to the 5 story Barney’s in Beverly Hills to return the second half of garment bags full of clothes (Remember how heavy the first half was? The one two men could barely carry?) Naturally, I can’t find parking close to the place, so I had quite a walk with these bags. I make it to Barney’s, carrying the bags that weigh more than I do, I’m sweating, and I have to go to the 5th floor. I was so lost that I couldn’t even find the elevator. But I finally do, I make it to the top, and we begin the return process. There were so many outfits that the entire return took the lady 30 minutes.
Then I had to go back to that place in Sherman Oaks to give the owner yet another piece of clothing, but when I get there, they’re closed. The sign literally said “Closed on Wednesday’s.” So I drove 45 minutes out of the way for no reason, because Miss Stylist forgot they were closed on freaking Wednesday’s.
I continue with the rest of my errands, and I finally return to Miss Stylist’s apartment to give her a few things. It’s now around 9:30 pm, but she tells me I need to go to Mr. Stylists apartment to run one more errand for him, and give him his credit card. (I’m on the verge of tears, but I hold it in until I get into my car.)
I sit down in my car and immediately break down. The next day was Valentine’s Day, and all I had been looking forward to all day was making red velvet cupcakes for Cody… PLUS I still had to drive to San Diego THAT NIGHT. Yeah, I know. (Cody went to college in San Diego, so we lived 2 hours away from each other for the first year and a half of our relationship.) The surprise I had planned for Cody required me to get to San Diego that night, because if I had gone the next day, I wouldn’t have been able to get into the apartment, since Cody would be at school.
So back to my breakdown in the car: I call Cody and I cannot control myself. I am so angry, tired, upset, and HUNGRY! Thank God I had packed a box of cheese it’s just incase, because I was yet again not given a chance to eat, and I didn’t even realize it until then. (I made sure I ate breakfast before, though.) He tries to calm me down, and I am just going off saying how much I hated these past two days, but this day was by far the worst. I start driving to Mr. Stylist’s place and then I call my mom so I can let it all out again, and I also had to ask her to make the cupcakes for me. She told me not to worry, because she already made them. (She’s the best.)
Anyway, as I am at a red light on Hollywood Blvd, a girl knocks on my window. I roll it down and she asks me if I’m okay. I say yeah, and that I just had a bad day (yes, this really happened on Hollywood Blvd. at a red light lol)… Then she hands me this:
A year later, and I still have it. The girl was so, so nice to me within those brief 10 seconds, and she honestly brought some happiness to the rest of that night with that small act of kindness.
Anyway, I get to Mr. Stylist’s place, and he has me go to Target to return EVERY EFFING SHIRT I got for him yesterday. I come back to give him his card and receipt and he says “Oh, wait. I also need you to go to American Apparel and get 3 packs of dark gray medium V-necks. Once again, I smile and tell him it’s not a problem.
Finally, I finish at 11 pm. When I returned, I handed him everything, said thank you, and was picking up my stuff to leave. Until he said, “Hey Hayley, you’ve done a great job these past two days. Honestly, great job. Thank you.”
I literally thought that there was nothing I could do to please him, and that he hated me, but I’m glad we parted with those words he said.
These two days were for sure the worst I’ve ever had, and this entire explanation of the two days doesn’t do it justice, AT ALL.
During my drive to San Diego, (after going home to finally eat and pick up the cupcakes) I began to rethink my entire career. Not that I wanted to ever be a stylist, but I was completely turned off by the whole entertainment industry after this experience, and I seriously contemplated changing my major. I didn’t want anything to do with Hollywood, or the people in it. But then I realized that these were just two people I had a terrible encounter with, where I was doing something completely opposite of my career path.
Yes, I did get to meet Justin at one point on the first day, and he was extremely nice! But I was so busy running around everywhere that the only 3 words I said to him were “Hi! I’m Hayley.”
The one thing I did get out of this experience was the fact that I could talk about working for this stylist/magazine editor in my cover letter. And it scored me two internships shortly after!
But when someone asks me the worst day of my life, I will always respond with “February 13th, 2013!”