Strike Two: Baking the Pie.

I should be at Fox Plaza right now with over 3,000 other writers, enjoying free Starbucks and bagels handed out by agents while Tom Morello of Rage Against the Machine performs his acoustic set.  I even specifically had someone cover my shift at the gym in order to do so.  However, after walking the picket lines from 9am-3pm, rushing home, shoving food down my throat and then running back out to work, working 'til 9pm, running home, making dinner and finally getting to see my husband for two minutes, I managed to sleep through two alarms and a host of construction going on outside my fourplex.  Whoops.

Yesterday, I donned my fancy strike shirt, hopped in the car, and made my way to the west side to go picket at Fox. 

I realized I was precariously low on gas so I swung into the Mobil at the corner of Beverly Blvd. and La Cienega to fill the tank.  As I swiped my debit card through the reader, a large black man got out of a dilapidated Subaru and approached me.

Hey, are you a writer?

I wondered if was a bright move to don my shirt before heading out to the picket.  Yes, yes I am, I told him.

I wanna shake your hand, he told me.  We shook hands, and he continued.  Y'know, it's bullshit.  It's like you  bake this big pie for the corporations, and they eat it.  They don't even let you eat a slice of the pie that you baked!

I looked at him, amazed.  That is absolutely brilliant.

You go get 'em, girl.

The Fox picket was slightly larger than the CBS-TV City one.  Hundreds of writers carrying signs walked in a loop in front of the studio, while others took the the crosswalk at the gate. 

My friend and mentor, S. and I carried signs and caught up.  During one turn in the bend I heard a familiar voice tell me good job! and I looked up to realized that Mindy Kaling was working the line, along with Kal Penn.  I refrained from having a moment, although my inner fangirl desperately wanted to.

Bored with our trek to nowhere, S. and I headed down with some other picketers to the construction gate where teamsters, delivery drivers, and other varied workers were  driving in and out.   Some Teamsters aren't crossing the picket line, but we all realize that people gotta earn a living.  Our ultimate job was to convince them turn around, but failing that, to lay on their horn to disrupt production or go around the block once or twice to add a time delay.   As our shift grew to a close,  one of the Strike Captains told us that there was a Dreamworks film shooting on location about a mile away.  Were we interested in trying to shut it down?

That sounds like a dare, S. said.

They were shooting inside a dog boutique on the corner of a somewhat trafficky street.  As we walked to the set, a security guard pulled us aside.

I don't want to be here, he told us, but I gotta.  But if you shut 'em down....

We joined the three other writers who were walking amongst the cables and the lights.  Don't touch anything, one of them told us, but make sure to walk in front of the lights.  It'll screw up their lighting inside.

Oooh, smart, I replied.  How's you figure that out?

One of the crew guys suggested it.

The other tactic was to get the cars driving by to honk their horns in order to disrupt the sound recording.  I stood on the curb like a teenaged girl at a charity car wash, trying to get the passers-by to make some noise. 

Our group of five soon grew to twelve as we were joined by more writers, a teamster, and some members of SAG.  Alas, three  o'clock drew near and I had to get home, eat, and go to work.  I bid everyone goodbye and good luck.

I grabbed a quick bite, had some Daisy the Wonderdog time and then it was back in the car and to the gym.  My throat was raw and my feet were sore.  I  headed down to the Starbucks before I opened to grab some hot tea.  The guy at the counter noticed my shirt as  he took my order.

You picket today?

Yeah, I croaked.  I dug out two bucks to hand him for my tea, but he waved me off.

It's on the house.

I thrust the bills at him but he still refused, so I thanked him and put the money in the tip jar instead.  As I hobbled up the stairs, I thought about how frustrated I've been with my career, how depressed and angry and upset I've been with this whole industry, and yet I'm now feeling somewhat hopeful.  Maybe it's because it's not just me who's not working at the moment.  Or because S. was able to talk me through some strategies to get things back on track.  Whatever it is, I'll take it.  After I take another nap.

Check out the Strike Captains' Blog, United Hollywood, as well as the video below, which explains what this whole mess is really about.