Santa Monica

My second interview out of college was at a walk-up townhouse off of Wilshire Blvd in Santa Monica. I drove around for 15 minutes until I found someone leaving on the street and disembarked from my car swiftly, yet grateful for the 30 minute buffer I had given myself to arrive. It was a long march up the street in my tan pumps and more than once my heels got stuck in the pavement. I was ushered to a couch of the living room/office for the interview. The session went fairly well, although I was interviewing for a publicist position, had rarely watched television for the last three years, and couldn’t name a single celebrity. At the end of the interview, the boss woman laid it out to me. “Look, honey most of the girls working here have some alternative source of income. I don’t pay very much. Will you parents be supplementing your salary here?” Heels or no, I ran, not walked out.

My second encounter with the beach town came years later. I played sick in the middle of a work day, and drove up to 100 Wilshire from Irvine, for an interview to be the So.Cal GM of a tech start-up. The interview was on a high floor and my nervousness seemed to increase the higher the elevator climbed. The office was one of the company’s investors, since their headquarters was in San Francisco. The conference room was gorgeous. Floor to ceiling windows and a view of the beach that stretched out to Malibu. I sat with the Head of Marketing and CEO and presented a business plan for winning the hearts and minds of baby-wearing surfers and bugaboo-strutting starlets alike.

The next time I would report to that sun-drenched place came a little over a year later. Another new job and a first day. I walked into an empty office in Ocean Park, filled with a random collection of mid-century modern furniture, blank walls and music blaring from the Sonos. I called out, “hello?” But no one was there. Had I reported to the wrong place? 15 minutes later, another woman walked in for her first day as a consultant. She also had no idea where anyone was. Shortly thereafter, the CEO texted me that he was on his way back.

It was an unlikely beginning, but over time we filled the walls and filled the seats. We filled Google Folders and Trello cards and slack channels and inboxes.

And as we built something great, I began to picture myself staying in this Santa Monica long term. I’d buy a shack near the office, fix it up, send my kids to the (well-ranked) public school. Make that dizzying, lovely city home.

Then today, I said good bye for now to this golden town. So long, Santa Monica, until we meet again.