I have pretty poor recall when it comes to events in my life, so this post is just to capture one odd event in Los Angeles when I was there in 2008. This post is prompted by the fact I Googled one of the people from that summer, and a 1988 LA Times article about that person appeared: "
Two Accused of Running Ten-Million Prize Scam." Woah, that hadn't been digitized & indexed previously when I first met this person.
I was renting office space--just a desk, computer, & phone really in the main reception area of a 3 room suite to work on my dissertation--I think it was $200 a month. It was on Sawtelle Blvd., a few miles from my apartment, I found the space through Craigslist. I never realized it was next to a medical marijuana facility until the end of the summer, those places do a good job at being subtle.

I first met JR (the woman who leased the office suite & posted on Craigslist looking for a sub-letter) in the parking lot of La Salsa on Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. This is the coolest looking La Salsa I had ever seen. I was meeting her there because I wanted to sign a sublet agreement, and her fancy Lexus roadster was in the shop (so I would pick her up because La Salsa was near her Malibu home and we could chat/talk about lease while driving to Santa Monica together so she could get her car.)

JR was like a cartoon character crossed-between Ghost World and the Simpsons--a punky-gothic misfit of sorts with an over-the-top townie personality. She was in her 50s, had a brusque East Coast sounding accent, was very talkative, and decked with a spiky faux-hawk, she looked like this random person from the Internet except older.

She boasted about her talents throughout the drive from Malibu to Santa Monica. She had written a hit pop song in 1973 and was a highly-desired organizational consultant, brought into large companies to help them restructure their business plans and improve bottom lines. She also said she was a pioneer in a new form of advertising called 'live advertising'--which was essentially having digital screens outside of businesses. She was a self-made wealthy woman with a home in Malibu by the beach, a dog she loved, a Lexus, and cool-hair. That was the story she told, anyway.
The ensuing 6-months that I leased the office space were bizarre to say the least. The self-described organizational consultant appeared to me to be running a low-rent headhunting firm (there was only a single client--some friend of JR's that needed pharmaceutical or sales reps of some sort). From 10am to 4pm each day, JR would be on the phone with unsuspecting young ladies with resumes on Monster, where she would pepper them with questions such as:
"Based on your college graduation date, it looks like you're probably in your late 30s. Can you doll yourself up and look younger? The client really needs women who are lookers."
"Do you have kids? The client needs women who have flexible schedules and aren't running off to pick up their kids all the time. Is that going to be an issue?"
When JR wasn't on the phone asking inappropriate interview questions, she was on the phone with Monster, yelling at their tech support for something being wrong with the web site ("I PAY A LOT OF MONEY TO YOU GUYS EACH MONTH! WHY ISN'T THE SITE WORKING/GIVING ME THE RIGHT SEARCH RESULTS?!?!).
She also seemed to get into a lot of screaming matches with people who I thought were calling to find out more about her business and whether they might hire her (JR). Since I could only hear one side of the conversation, I never could figure out what would set her off, but these calls would end with a low growl and she'd be shouting "LOOK, YOU CALLED ME BUDDY. DON'T CALL HERE AGAIN, I WILL BE CONTACTING MY LAWYER ABOUT YOU."
I sat out in the main reception area with an unfortunate-young-lady-of-the-week who was desperate enough to have taken a job with JR directly. This unfortunate-young-lady was tasked with doing the same work as JR, except she was paid practically nothing and her salary was supposed to come from a commission for successfully soliciting other girls into the sales rep positions for the client.
I'm not sure how legitimate the sales rep positions were because there were about 6 unfortunate-young-ladies who came through in a single month to flex their headhunting skills, lasting only a few days each. Marci lasted the longest at about 1.5 months working for JR, though she seemed to leave on the verge of tears at the end of each day.
And then the weirdest person to ever have a stint in JR's office was someone I'll just call Bob. I have no clue what his name was, he had many. He kind of looked like this random person from the Internet, though without a genuine smile and more of a creepster air about him.

I arrived one day, and Bob was sitting at the spot typically reserved for the unfortunate-young-lady-of-the week. JR said he was just going to be here for a few days borrowing space. OK, whatever, I was used to random faces at this point.
I was not, however, used to such a LOUD person. JR could be loud at times, but Bob was LOUD FOR 6 HOURS STRAIGHT. And just vile and weird in all his conversations; he was trying to sell something, and for each lead he would call, he would take on a fake accent and fake name while being super aggressive. So if he was calling an Arab guy, Bob was now Mohammed with some rendition of an Arab accent. "LOOK MON, I GIVE YOU GOOT PRICE!"
If it was a Jewish guy, he was Shlomo; Italian? Maybe Vinnie. I wish I could say I was being facetious, he really did this--I had no clue parts of the world operated this way.
I don't have any great build-up to this story, except I think I now can guess a bit more of the shadiness that happened right in front of me after reading the LA Times telemarketing scam article from '88. My hypothesis is that this was a multi-level marketing scheme and the sales rep girls were used to help lure in new "investors." Hence, the high turnover rate of these sales reps and constantly needing to stock new ones (who wants to do this job once you realize it's scamming people?).
In all fairness, I have to say that JR never bilked me out of any money (my security deposit for the keys was returned in full without issue) and she never tried to involve me in any of her dealings. I suspect I must have had some smell of nerd-snitch about me that made me less desirable for the picking.
2008 ended on a positive note: Julie and I had a great vacation to Mexico City and Mazunte, and then I moved to San Jose -- though it would still take me another year to finally complete that damn dissertation.
I look forward to Googling JR in a few years to find out the latest installment of her saga.