playa lane
I went to a house on Player Lane (strangely enough, it didn't intersect with Baller Boulevard); it had the look of the home of a late-'80s coke dealer to the stars with high ceilings, colorful artwork from unknown indigenous peoples and a pure bred show dog pacing out back.
It was a business meeting and I think I probably still stunk of bar from night before. I had a dream about missing the meeting and woke up just in time to put on mostly new clothes, brush my teeth, scrub off the black ink hand stamp and call a cab. I still got to the office before anyone else, even before my boss, who was supposed to go with me to the meeting and was also out partying--harder than I was.
The couple we had to speak to was nice enough. I'm not entirely sure they were a couple, really. The man was more-or-less the typical business man who made his wealth around the dot-com boom--white, approaching middle age, still vaguely hip. He said he listened to the local hard rock station. He spoke of money only in large sums--thousands, millions--I'm not sure if tens and twenties were in his vocabulary. He also gave us an impromptu seminar about business practices and how he's applied these things to his own success.
The woman was mature and not afraid to show it. She didn't try to look younger, but she did look younger than she probably was. She was fit and well-dressed. She didn't say much, but did her best to reel in the man when he went off on a tangent, which was often, reminding him of what we were looking to know for the story we were planning on writing about him. She was the VP of his company and added insight on occasion, when she was quiet, she toyed with her sandy blonde hair or smoothed her thin skirt over her thighs. I kept drifting off and thinking she was shooting me flirtatious glances; I was tired, hung over, and none of these people were speaking my language. I had nothing better to do.
It was interesting to hear the man talk about business models, plans and strategies. He used terms like product, venture capital and branding. I'm not the most organized person, so it was kinda like peeking into what amounts to an alien culture for me.
After about an hour and a half, the woman got up and began conducting business. A host of random people began wandering in and out of the house, pulling up to the driveway, lingering in front of the house but never coming in. I wondered how many people actually lived there. I wondered how long we'd be there. The meeting ran two hours and the man and my boss were chopping it up about something. When the man was speaking to me, I nodded, looked attentive, when he turned, my eyes would wander to the high vaulted ceiling, the backyard that led to the creek, the abundance of windows, the empty dining room, the loft that was turned into an office.
We were there two and a half hours. Afterwards, I got to go back to work.
It was a business meeting and I think I probably still stunk of bar from night before. I had a dream about missing the meeting and woke up just in time to put on mostly new clothes, brush my teeth, scrub off the black ink hand stamp and call a cab. I still got to the office before anyone else, even before my boss, who was supposed to go with me to the meeting and was also out partying--harder than I was.
The couple we had to speak to was nice enough. I'm not entirely sure they were a couple, really. The man was more-or-less the typical business man who made his wealth around the dot-com boom--white, approaching middle age, still vaguely hip. He said he listened to the local hard rock station. He spoke of money only in large sums--thousands, millions--I'm not sure if tens and twenties were in his vocabulary. He also gave us an impromptu seminar about business practices and how he's applied these things to his own success.
The woman was mature and not afraid to show it. She didn't try to look younger, but she did look younger than she probably was. She was fit and well-dressed. She didn't say much, but did her best to reel in the man when he went off on a tangent, which was often, reminding him of what we were looking to know for the story we were planning on writing about him. She was the VP of his company and added insight on occasion, when she was quiet, she toyed with her sandy blonde hair or smoothed her thin skirt over her thighs. I kept drifting off and thinking she was shooting me flirtatious glances; I was tired, hung over, and none of these people were speaking my language. I had nothing better to do.
It was interesting to hear the man talk about business models, plans and strategies. He used terms like product, venture capital and branding. I'm not the most organized person, so it was kinda like peeking into what amounts to an alien culture for me.
After about an hour and a half, the woman got up and began conducting business. A host of random people began wandering in and out of the house, pulling up to the driveway, lingering in front of the house but never coming in. I wondered how many people actually lived there. I wondered how long we'd be there. The meeting ran two hours and the man and my boss were chopping it up about something. When the man was speaking to me, I nodded, looked attentive, when he turned, my eyes would wander to the high vaulted ceiling, the backyard that led to the creek, the abundance of windows, the empty dining room, the loft that was turned into an office.
We were there two and a half hours. Afterwards, I got to go back to work.
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