It was, in fact, my e-mail that gave me the first good news of the day. In desperation two days before, I had gone onto a job hunting website and signed up, putting in applications for anything that might let me still make auditions or studio sessions. If that hadn't worked out, I'd have been playing guitar or violin on the street corner, busking for my food. I heard that you could get good hauls at the LA Zoo, and outside some of the busier train stations, or at a decently trendy Starbucks.
Instead of worrying about how I would sweet talk a coffee shop manager into letting me cadge off his electricity, I had a reply to one of the jobs I’d applied for. I clicked the link, double checking which job it was, and grinned. It wasn't the worst job I'd applied to, and it was a decent wage, just over twelve bucks an hour. If I wanted an interview, I could have one the next morning. Of course, I didn’t have much of a choice.
The Japanese American National Museum was in downtown Los Angles, in the Little Tokyo area of the city. I'd applied simply because as a child I loved museums, especially the kind where you could go around and actually touch the exhibits. Science museums were a ton of fun for me, and if it hadn't been that I loved music so much, I would have gone into engineering. I'd been in science museums all over the country, from Portland to New York to Houston, and really loved the entire idea behind them. The JANM wasn't the branch of the air and space museum, but a job was a job.
I smoothed my hands over the only decent set of interview clothes I had, a skirt and blouse set that I thought matched well with my hair and went inside. I was surprised to find that the person who interviewed me wasn't Japanese at all, but I guess when you look at hiring a girl like me for a tour guide position, ethnicity isn't all that important. Then again, California was unique in that race was both totally unimportant and a constant factor in relations between people all the time. I don't think in any other place did you have to be simultaneously hypersensitive and relaxed about it to the degree a person in Los Angeles had to.
"Miss Banks?" the man, who was probably in his mid-forties, asked me when I was escorted into the back offices. "Hi, I'm Harry Takahashi."
The name took me aback, I guess the guy did have some Japanese blood in his family tree somewhere. In looking closer, I guess I could see it in his facial features, but it had to be a couple of generations back. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Takahashi. I'm actually surprised you'd take the time to interview someone for a position like this. It's just a tour guide, not a curator or anything."
"Not at all Miss Banks," Harry replied, gesturing towards a chair. I sat across his desk from him, separated by what could only be described as a fortress of stuff. Papers, books, and folders were stacked so high I couldn't even see the man's keyboard, all of these mini towers topped with coffee cups, little figurines, balls, and other knick-knacks. I felt like I was interviewing inside a kid's play fort. Maybe Harry Takahashi was insecure, and liked the physical separation, or perhaps he was just chronically behind on his office work — I had no idea. Either way, he cleared his throat, picked up my resume to glance over it again, and asked his first question. "So what made you apply for a position here at JANM?"
I swallowed my immediate answer, which was that I needed the damn money, and launched into my best interview speak. All in all, I felt things went pretty well.
"Your background. I saw on your resume that you’re also a trained musician in piano, guitar, and violin. In fact, you were trained in the Suzuki Method, yes?"
I nodded, surprised for once that my mother's insistence at classical training was paying off in a rather unique way. "Yes, my violin and later piano teacher were Suzuki trained. In fact, my violin teacher actually studied under Dr. Suzuki himself, at least that what she said."
"I see. Well, while I'm not looking for otaku, we do have a high number of people who have some connection to Japanese culture, as you'd expect. Being Suzuki trained will give you some, what's the term, street cred? Yes, street cred with the visitors. Are you still actively playing?"
I shrugged, rolling my shoulder. "I am an active electric guitar player, but I haven't played piano or violin in a long time. Personal reasons."
Harry nodded, not probing deeper, which I appreciated. While I wasn't going through anything like PTSD symptoms any longer, I still wasn’t comfortable talking about what happened to me eight years prior. "Okay, Miss Banks. Well then, I think you can tell, I'd love to have you come on board as part of JANM. I do have one more question, and this has no bearing on the offer for tour guide."
I was so happy I couldn't even think straight, my smile spreading across my face until I was sure it stretched earlobe to earlobe. I could actually buy food soon, and not scout out dumpster diving locations. “Go ahead, whatever you have to ask."
"Well, I can assume from your work history and what you just said, you're trying to make it in the music business?"