saving money in a money pit

Brazilian cheese sandwich @ Wild

Guess how much this plate of food costs. Well, first, let me tell you what it is. It's a vegan "cheese" sandwich, made out of cashews, flax, every kind of veggie you can think of and a few types of vegan sauces. That misshapen magenta disk is a fancy beet. So basically, this thing is made out of legumes, seeds, and water.

It was TWENTY DOLLARS, PEOPLE. TWENTY. All the world to sit in a damn cafe with good WiFi and outlets, write my blog, and grab a bite to eat in between jobs, am I right? But I'm learning that that's what you do here - make money just to see it evaporate into nothingness - unless of course you own a company and make enough to afford a $3,000 apartment, or, plan on living off Cup of Noodles and dollar store zebra cakes your whole life...

So what have I been doing to make money? Well, right now, I'm holding down two part time jobs. (Three if you count writing, but [surprise surprise], that doesn't pay.) Walking dogs and personal assisting have been the names of my game recently, which totals to about $300 a week. That would work just fine in, say, the outskirts of Houston, Texas, but in the city of angels? Not so much. I'm here to tell you guys: if you're planning on picking up and moving with almost no money to your name, go ahead and do it (as long as you're a VERY social person.) Let me explain.

When I first moved here, I was paying nightly for an AirBnB on San Pedro Street. It's the street famous for the flower vendors that line each side, and equally as famous for being the street that intersects with Skid Row. A perfect mix of derelict and lush. D, the building host, is always a fairly calm guy. He spends most of his days playing video games or checking people in and out. I spent $25 a night to sleep there, and occasionally when I found a cheaper AirBnB, I'd move everything out for a couple days and stay there, all for the sake of saving about $15. (Which, in perspective, is the cost of a 10-mile Lyft ride if you aren't sharing it with anyone else. Yeah, I know it's disgusting.)

My day consisted of getting up at 6am, walking as many dogs as possible (or spending the day answering emails for a Hollywood small-wig) and returning at about 4 or 5, sneaking food into my room, holing up and falling asleep. 0% interaction outside of saying "Hello" and "See you tomorrow" to my clients. As a friendly introvert, I was okay with that. One day, I decided to venture out into the living room where D sat playing video games with a bunch of others who I suddenly realized had been there for way longer than the average 7-day AirBnB stay.

"Well well well! Look who decided to grace us with her presence."

"Yeah," I laughed nervously. "People give me anxiety. I don't like them." (Los Angeles has brought out the bluntness in me. Sorry in advance to all my Midwestern folks if I offend you over the holidays.)

D and I became friends almost instantly. I can't describe it, but I decided to make it a point to go into the living room and spend some time each day with the other misfits and travelers who happened to end up in the same part of town as me. There was A , from Berlin, an aspiring model; J, an app developer from Brooklyn; Z, from Minnesota (...I still don't know what he does...); K, a fashion photographer from The Bronx; DL, an actor from St. Louis (holla!), and JT, the coder from I don't know where who spends most of his waking moments at the library. Eventually B joined our group, a street photographer from Denver. And before I knew it, D, like a jealous high schooler who whines at her cheerleader friends for sitting with the techies, was giving me grief for looking at other AirBnBs.

"Well I don't see any open spots on your site."

"That's because I've saved your bed!"

Well okay then! I found myself renting out my last few weeks there, for a few dollars less than what I was paying before. Even when I was short on rent, he never brought it up, and thanked me ever so graciously when I finally handed him the cash. I only bought food a handful of times, because everybody shared. Not just food - Uber rides and job leads and how to apply for government aid too. It was a little family. We even had a kitten, C. (She's insane. She eats trash. We love her.)

When my roommate W and I finally did find a possible apartment, I was beyond nervous. I told myself we were going to get rejected because his credit doesn't exist, and mine...well, mine is fucking terrible, to be honest; but I remember the conversation we had with the property manager, AP:

"So are you two dating?"

"No. We both recently moved here from Illinois and Missouri."

"Oh! Why?"

"Change of scenery. We just finished college. Not a lot of family around."

"Okay. Do you both work?" "Well, yes. Kind of. YES. Odd jobs. We make enough to rent." (Somebody fucking cut out my tongue.)

AP laughed, "You know it's tough out here."

"Yes."

"Hmm. Okay. Well let me run your socials and your credit and I'll get back to you by morning."

I was sure we weren't going to land the place, but the next morning, around 11, a text from an unfamiliar number popped up:

"Hi, this is AP. We'll let you sign the lease for an increased deposit."

YES!! Will it cost me everything I've been able to save since moving here? Absolutely. Will I have a roof over my head, my own room, and a bathroom bigger than a silver dollar? Absolutely.

The day after we moved in, W worked a double. I decided to explore Monterey Hills, stopping at some above-average hole in the wall and ordering food. I was probably the only one who wasn't super interested in the transpiring football game on the gigantic TV screen above the bar; but hey, it was something to distract me from the fact that I was minus $1 --(use your imagination).

About half an hour later, a man, probably in his sixties or so, wandered in and sat one stool down from me. I could feel him looking in my direction.

Please. Don't, I thought.

"I haven't seen you in here before..."

(Oh great.)

"Nope, I'm new."

"Okay, new. I'm T." He extended his hand. "Hi T. I'm Megan."

"Megan. So, are you new to Los Angeles, new to California, or what?"

(I gave him the exhaustive version of what was basically my last blog post.)

"Wow!" was his response. "I've got a daughter, probably about your age. What are you, 19?"

"26."

"Okay! Well anyway, me and my daughter, we don't talk much."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

And here he opened up his own can of worms. Although I do my best at maintaining anonymity for the characters in my life while staying true to the events in which they were involved, I don't feel quite right relaying T's full story here, even without using his name; but rest assured, he had been an asshole to his daughter, his ex, his brother, and he was very decidedly alone.

"I don't know what you're out here to do, but it takes a lot to make it, and people will throw you under the bus without batting an eye just to get themselves ahead."

"That's what I've heard. I'm trying to surround myself with good people."

"Well, you seem like a good person." At this point, we'd been shooting the breeze for no less than two and a half hours.We had closed the space between ourselves. He was on his third beer and second shot of something that looked like Windex.

"I got work to do," he said, after draining the last of his Guinness, "but I wish you the best of luck." He pulled out his wallet and handed his card to the bartender, then pulled out some cash and handed it to me.

"I appreciate you listening."

"Oh...no...I can't take that."

"No, you're gonna have to because you're going to need it. Believe me." He set the cash down on the bar by my plate and signed for his drinks. With an almost disinterested wave, he walked out. I looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed an almost complete stranger handing me cash. The bartender caught my eye and shrugged. "Take it!" he said, maybe hoping I'd spend at least some of it on his shift. I did take it. I paid my phone bill, and I bought shampoo and toothpaste.

So what's the moral here? Am I telling you to rely on sheer luck, the energy of the universe and the kindness of strangers to get you through your first month in a new city? Eh. Only sometimes. I would, however, definitely suggest being a useful citizen by getting a steady job, and not eating out - ever - until you have a decent amount of digits on your paycheck (seriously.)

I'm on my third interview tomorrow. Wish me luck!

xoxo

PS: If you are in the Los Angeles downtown area and do want to try the Brazilian cheese sandwich pictured at the beginning of my post (or any other vegan goodies they offer), please go for it. The cafe is called Wild. They're located on Main & 8th. The food is great, just pricey (although the vegan ice cream is DEFINITELY worth its salt, and they give you huge servings.)

http://www.wildlivingfoods.com/