I always thought that these things happen as both the blessing and the curse of a Halloween birthday. However, in recent years, I have stumbled on others who share this Halloween birthday with me and none report having any similar weirdness on their birthdays. So I don’t know what it is with me and Halloween but something strange always happens to me on Halloween. I don’t know whether it’s because I wasn’t supposed to be born on Halloween. Or maybe it’s because I’m Irish. After all, as I noted in my essay last year, Halloween originated with Celtic pagan harvesting customs.
But ever since I was a little boy, I cannot remember a Halloween when something very very odd did not happen. When I got to be around 30, I noticed a definite pattern had developed and I wrote an essay that year chronicling the history of all my Halloweens going back to high school, then kept updating the essay every year until, during the depths of the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I no longer had the strength to document it. Besides, the CFS was bad luck enough by itself. During those years, it was hard to distinguish between CFS and Halloween.
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Probably the most blatant example of Halloween weirdness came in 1979, my third year living in Hollywood. After two years of not seeing the guy, out of the blue I ran into Tim’s friend Peter High on Hollywood Boulevard. He pulled me into his car and we drove around town together for a couple hours. This was odd enough by itself, since I had never had the impression he liked me very much. But, on this particular day, he acted like I was his long lost best friend. He and his wife had been invited to a costume party that evening up on Franklin Avenue just a few blocks from where I lived. The party was to start at 8 p.m. and I was invited.
He dropped me off at my house just off Hollywood Boulevard at about 5 p.m. and I started very excitedly getting ready. I had the good fortune of living with a theater director who was using our garage to store props and costumes for his little theater troupe that did plays in a hole-in-the-wall on La Brea. So I went to town pouring over hundreds of costumes, finally settling on being a court jester.
Shortly after 8 p.m., I took the short walk to the house he had pointed out where the party would be held. Keep in mind that this was my neighborhood, I knew it very well, had walked the area every night since moving there two years ago. Tonight I went to the exact spot he had pointed out.
It was a vacant lot.
The houses on the left and right that I easily recognized were still there all right. The house where the party was being held did not exist. On the oft chance that I might be on the wrong block, I walked around for a while to see if there were any other houses that looked familiar. There were not. But, as I said, this was my neighborhood. I knew I was not mistaken about the location. I went home and put the costume away. The next day, I went back to the same location and, sure enough, the house was there this time. Halloween weirdness in spades!
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That 1979 Halloween was undoubtedly the most mystical one. Others were more in the realm of convention but no less weird. In 1984, Leslie, a woman who used to be a housemate in Hollywood and with whom I’d been good friends for seven years, took me to a bar to help celebrate my birthday. Then out of the blue she blurts out quite seriously that she has no interest in me whatsoever, just wanted to make sure I was clear on that in case I was thinking otherwise, and did so despite the fact that I did nothing to solicit this. Well, I no longer wished to be in her company. I waited about half an hour so it wouldn’t be obvious that I was leaving on her account, then made my excuses and left. The next day she was back to being her usual lovey-dovey self as if nothing had happened. But, of course, something had happened and I stopped socializing with her after that. The fact that she never sought me out again was proof enough that the sentiments she expressed to me that night were her true feelings. Five years later I’d receive a very strange 20 page letter from her telling me all about her new life in Egypt where she now lived and acting like she wanted to start our friendship over again even though she was half a world away. Very strange.
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In 1986, my very good friend Iris and I organized a Halloween party for the entire finance department at McDonnell-Douglas. It was a huge success. But right after quitting time, we were both called into the boss’s office, a boss who was ordinarily very fun-loving, and told us both quite sternly that we were to have no more parties. Iris had worked very hard on it and was just floored by the criticism. We went out for drinks that night. She was very depressed and I tried comforting her by telling her that it was just the Halloween curse at work and she should ignore it. Everything would be fine tomorrow. Of course, she didn’t buy that one at all, thought I was really reaching to try to find a way to make her feel better. Needless to say, the next day the boss was back to his old jovial self and told us to start planning the Thanksgiving party, again as if nothing had happened. Iris bowed out of the Thanksgiving planning and transferred out of the department a couple months later.
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Probably the most humorous example of weird was Halloween 1987. I had been layed off from McDonnell-Douglas the prior February and had now had nine months of hardcore unemployment. Hundreds of resumes, dozens of interviews, not a single offer.
Well, that’s not quite accurate. The summer of ’87 was truly weird. One company after another at which I made the top cut, meaning that starting with 150 applicants for a given position, it was now down to me and one other person. Then the other person always got it. This happened more times than I cared to count. I indeed felt cursed. Even Dad commented that it was almost like someone was purposely sabotaging me.
August was by far the weirdest. In August, in the space of two weeks, I had three excellent job offers. One was my dream job: a senior financial position with Disney in Paris. That was the job that would have launched my film career too. Then one by one, I was told that the position had been eliminated and they had to withdraw the offer. The loss of Disney was a particularly crushing blow. It wouldn’t be the last crushing blow. I was to remain unemployed until April 1988, fourteen long painful months, but in November I landed another huge opporunity – another senior financial position but this time with MGM film studios right at their Culver City headquarters. This was another dream job that could have launched my film career again. The woman who would have been my boss even told me I was by far the strongest candidate, which is why it was particularly devastating when she phoned to inform me that she had been forced to give the position to an internal candidate.
But August 1987 was quite unique with three dream jobs lined up all at once. The third was with a company in Anaheim called CalComp, a computer company, not a dream job like the others but still very solid and certainly well paying. This company was really extreme. I had never interviewed with any company before that asked me to come in more than twice nor subjected me to more than three interviews before making the decision. CalComp had me come in four times and subjected me to no fewer than twelve interviews. And they all went amazingly well. The woman who was to be my boss was so impressed with my technical skills based only on our dialogues, that she did not even require me to take their basic technical proficiency test. After all, if you can play a Beethoven concerto on the piano, why ask someone to play Chopsticks just to see if they can play at all? You already KNOW they can play. So I got through their whole process with flying colors, even being excused from their standard testing. I was told I was not only their top candidate but they had no one else who was even close.
There was only one hitch. If I got the offer, I would have to start immediately. Well, August of 1987 was my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary and they had a big bash planned for Sunday afternoon, August 16th, at a restaurant in West Bloomfield. Being unemployed for so many months, I had long since booked a flight for the entire week of the 16th. But when CalComp happened, it was obvious that if the offer came through, I would be starting on Monday August 10th. I couldn’t ask for vacation after only one week. So I had no choice. I had to change my flight to go out Friday night August 14th, and return right after the party on Sunday afternoon. The only flight available Sunday afternoon was to John Wayne Airport in Orange County so I booked that flight. It was the only way to attend the party and still be at work in Anaheim on Monday morning.
Well, I said the interviews went amazingly well. But obviously the final one did not. It was with the Vice President of Finance and I thought I impressed the hell out of the guy. I was so optimistic that I honestly believed there’d be a message from Human Resources with a job offer before I even got home twenty minutes later. I couldn’t have been more wrong. There was no message, not then, not a week later. A week later, I was at a loss. I was supposed to start on Monday. What were they waiting for? I phoned Human Resources and was told the job was filled. Then I phone the lady who would have been my boss and she told me the truth.
The job was not filled, but the V.P. had been so turned off by me that he ordered her to pick the next candidate. No way did he want me! When she told him there was no next candidate, that I was by far the strongest choice so it was me or no one, he said then it was no one. He ordered her to start the search over again from scratch. She wanted to know – what did I do? I could offer no explanation as to how this could have happened. I didn’t have a clue myself except to tell her that she had given me the very definite impression that the offer was set and that meeting the Vice President was strictly a formality. I was expecting a brief hello, a handshake, and goodbye, five minutes max. After twelve interviews, I wasn’t expecting another one. The way she had specifically phrased it, "You’re our top pick but our Vice President would like to meet you briefly before we extend the offer."
I told her it took me twenty minutes to even realize that he was actually interviewing me. By that time, it was too late to salvage anything so I decided just to go with the flow. But he seemed to be responding very well to all my answers, even laughed quite heartily at my jokes. I admitted my answers might have been a bit long-winded, but that was only because I didn’t know I was being interviewed. Besides the whole tone of the meeting was much more conversational than formal. I actually thought it went very well, but evidently it didn’t. No it didn’t, she said. And now she finally tells me, "Yes I should have warned you that it was an interview, not a meeting. And I should have warned you that this guy doesn’t like long answers. That’s probably what did you in. Sorry."
Yes I was sorry too. I really wanted this job. It was devastating – three very close offers lost in just two weeks. I was out of prospects. It was back to square one. I got on the phone and rebooked my flight again, this time staying in Michigan the entire week.
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To any of you who recall the great airline tragedy at Metro airport on the evening of August 16, 1987, I can tell you that when I woke up on Monday morning August 17th to the news, I immediately appreciated that this seemingly inexplicable stream of bad fortune that had befallen me had in fact proven to be the biggest blessing of my life. The flight to John Wayne Airport that I had originally booked had crashed immediately upon takeoff, killing all passengers and crew save one small child who was miraculously thrown from the fuselage when it broke in half and was found badly burned but still alive hundreds of feet away in a field. This little girl survived.
This was called either the second or third worst air disaster in history, certainly the worst at Metro. John, now a reporter for a Florida newspaper, was immediately summoned by his boss to report to Metro and cover the story. I settled back, now having a completely new perspective on the "misfortunes" of my job hunt. Being the eternal optimist, I had always believed there was a reason for everything. Nothing in my life did more to confirm this than waking up to this news on Monday morning, August 17th. Had I not so badly botched the interview with the Vice President of Finance a couple weeks earlier, I would have been on that plane and killed. Yes, everything happens for a reason.
So I took the week in Orchard Lake to recharge my badly depleted batteries and hit the job market fresh again right after Labor Day. In September, I had a great interview with Ducummon Steel, one of the oldest steel companies in the U.S. and, at 150 years old, THE oldest company of any kind in Los Angeles. I was to be a senior manager in their regional finance office, and the best part was that it was only a mile from where I lived. No more getting up at 5 a.m. to go to work. With this job, I could get up at 7:30 and still be at my desk easily by 8. After two interviews, on a Friday in late September I was told I had the job and that Human Resources would contact me Monday with the formal offer. On Monday morning, the big headline in the Business Section of the Los Angeles Times was "Ducummon Steel Bankrupt After 150 Years." I immediately called the guy I interviewed with and the number was disconnected.
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How was it that all this weird stuff was happening and it was not yet even the Season of the Witch? I was perilously close to being broke so, October 1st, I changed my strategy. Forget the MBA jobs for the time being. I needed money. Now! I started the rounds of all the temporary agencies in town. Every one of them was totally impressed, told me they would have no problem placing me, I’d have a job in a couple days. These were the Reagan boom years. It wasn’t like it was a bad job market. It was probably the most explosive job market in history. But then I never heard from them again and every day when I called I was told, "Nothing yet." The most explosive job market in history and I couldn’t get in on it.
Was it any wonder everyone thought I must be doing something wrong? The thought had crossed my mind too, but I had no clue as to what it might be. In my experience that has always been the second most difficult thing about job hunting and why it is so stressful. However it goes, good or bad, when it goes well, you don't know what you did right; when it goes wrong, you don't know how you botched it. And the MOST difficult thing about job hunting -- after a point in time, usually several months, if you still haven't gotten any offers, everyone blames you. Or I should say everyone blamed me, convinced there must be something I wasn't doing right. Not trying hard enough, not being aggressive, being too focused, not being focused enough, not having the right answers, having too many right answers. One person actually criticized my resume for using the initials "CA" instead of spelling out "California" in my address, insisting I was being unprofessional. Yes, everyone had a hundred speculations as to what they thought I was probably doing wrong. You find out who your real friends are when you're unemployed and I found out most of those I thought were friends weren't. That was by far the hardest part of job hunting.
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The rounds of the temp agencies went on for four weeks. Finally, the morning of Friday October 31, 1987, I had an interview with my 25th temporary agency. With me right in the office, they got on the phone and within ten minutes I had an assignment starting Monday morning in the finance department of Denny’s Restaurants International Headquarters 20 minutes from where I lived. As far as they knew, the assignment would be indefinite. Denny’s even agreed to my request that I be allowed to continue my MBA job hunt and be given flexible scheduling so I could go to interviews.
It would be another six months before I had my next professional level MBA position at Northrop but, at least as of 10 a.m. on the morning of Friday October 31, 1987, and with only $200 left to my name, nine months of no income had ended. Last Halloween, I had been chastised for throwing a party at work. Every Halloween, something bad or just plain strange had happened. I was exhausted. I implored the gods of Halloween - please spare me this year. I can’t take any more bad luck right now. For the first time in nine months, I actually get to relax for the rest of the day and weekend. No desire to celebrate my birthday.
Not that there was anyone to celebrate with. All of my so-called friends at McDonnell-Douglas had long since turned their backs on me, given no job offers after so many months. My so-called best friend David even got quite rude with me, telling me sharply just a few weeks earlier to get my act together before I ended up on welfare and he’d have to support me with his tax dollars. Women who’d been flirting with me at the office for five years had by now stopped returning my calls. Even Iris considered me an enigma and stopped speaking to me. My very good friend Julio, who had been my jogging partner and 10k racing partner for five years, had even gotten upset with me after he had lined up an interview for me in the finance department at Univision, the Spanish language television network in Los Angeles. When I did not get the offer, he called me up. "Mike, I had that all lined up. What did you do?" I did not hear from him again for another year. Ahhh, the corruption of corporate politics. For five years, I had been a fast-rising corporate star, everyone jumping on my bandwagon on my way up the ladder, then equally anxious to jump ship and act like they don’t even know you when on the way down.
By the time I got my MBA position at Northrop in April of 1988, fourteen months after the layoff, there were only two people from McDonnell-Douglas who were still in my network – my good friends Lionel and Nancy. And both were more than just speaking to me, they were actually quite supportive. Lionel had used his influence to find me a much better temporary position after only six weeks at Denny’s. And Nancy had been a faithful mentor to me all along, giving me the crucial strategic advice that proved instrumental in landing the position at Northrop. Of all my many friends and colleagues during a five year career at McDonnell-Douglas, they were the only ones left and I remain in touch with them even today. About four months after I started Northrop, Julio did call me to congratulate me and apologized for the way he had treated me on the Univision matter. I accepted Julio’s apology and we became friends again. But I lost touch with him after I returned to Michigan. I never did hear from either David or Iris again and I considered both of them good riddance.
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So on that particular Friday, October 31, 1987, I had no one to celebrate with and preferred it that way. I just wanted to be alone and relax for the first time in months. I was hoping for no more surprises. But Halloween wasn’t over until midnight. There had been some years when the whole day had gone quite normally, then at 11:30 something really weird popped. Nope, not out of the woods until midnight. I spent the evening entertaining myself with some tacky horror videos. At 11:55, nothing had yet happened. Gee I think I’ve made it this year. The gods had heard my plea and answered, "Yeah, you’ve had enough this year. We’ll take it easy on you today." I think the job offer from Denny’s this morning was my Halloween treat and there wasn’t going to be any trick this year.
So at 11:55, I get ready for bed and go to the toilet. Reaching for the toilet paper, I discovered the roll was out. Ah well, reach under the sink and pull out a fresh roll. I had just shopped a few days ago and knew I had a fresh four-pack. I opened the cabinet door underneath the sink and pulled it out. What I found there was completely unbelievable. The four-pack of tissue, which I had not yet opened, was now opened. AND ALL FOUR ROLLS OF PAPER WERE COMPLETELY SOAKED WITH WATER!!!
I’m not saying that the cabinet was wet or that even the plastic wrapping around the rolls was wet. No! Only the four rolls were wet and they were more than wet, they were completely saturated. The cabinet was dry as a bone. The pipes immediately above the package of toilet paper were dry as a bone. Even the plastic wrapping around the rolls was dry as a bone. How could this be? Forget the fact that the package was inexplicably open in the first place. And I know I didn’t open it because I have never in my life opened a package of paper without taking at least one roll out right away. But all four rolls were there. There was absolutely no logical explanation as to how four rolls of toilet paper became sopping wet without a single drop of water getting on anything else, including the plastic wrapping.
But I knew immediately what the significance was. The gods of Halloween were telling me, "Well, we couldn’t let you completely off the hook. We took it easy on you this year but we still had to let you know we’re here." And, except for the "spooky" thing that happened this year, that was by far the most comical surprise I’ve ever received on Halloween.
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Which finally brings us to this year. As I’ve been writing in my daily tweet, I’ve had a yen for waffles since I took Tim to the airport at 4 a.m. on Monday morning, October 17th. Unfortunately, on the drive back from Metro, I couldn’t find any restaurants that opened before 7 a.m. Every morning since, I had the hankering for waffles but had things to do and couldn’t get to a restaurant.
Finally, Monday morning the 31st, I decided to begin the celebration of my 58th year of life by going to the Village Palace for waffles. Having never been there for breakfast before, I was amazed at how packed they were. I told the waitress that I’d been yearning for waffles for weeks. She immediately recommended their pecan waffle special with fruit and whipped cream and I said no, I just want plain waffles, I’ve been drooling for weeks for plain waffles, just butter and syrup. She said no problem. I also ordered an orange juice. She said she’d put my order in and be back in just a minute with the OJ.
About ten seconds after she left, I had a change of heart and decided that the pecan waffle special sounded pretty good after all. It was a couple dollars more than the plain Belgian waffles but, heck, it was my birthday! Let’s splurge. She was supposed to be back in a minute with my OJ, so I’d wait for the drink and then ask her to please change my order. Well, she didn’t come back in a minute. She didn’t come back in five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen even! Twenty minutes later she shows up with my waffle order and the OJ. "Gee you told me you’d be right back with the OJ. I was kind of depending on that because I changed my mind about the special as soon as you left and wanted to tell you. I guess it’s too late now."
Until last Monday, I had never in my life been in a restaurant where I’ve made a complaint like that and did not get an immediate apology and an offer to take my order back and get me what I really wanted. Not this waitress! She gave me a dirty look, said "Yep, it’s too late now," practically threw the waffles at me and walked away. To make matters worse, the waffles were cold and could not even melt the butter. And she only gave me three small slabs of butter that were not even close to enough to cover this waffle that was at least 8 inches in diameter.
Needless to say, it was a VERY unsatisfying birthday breakfast. And I simply wrote off the waitress’s rude behavior to the gods of Halloween. Unprovoked rudeness is something I’m not at all accustomed to. Every other day of the year, people are quite nice to me. There’s just something very weird about Halloween. Something like this happens every year.
Then I got the bill and practically fell out of my chair. If I had come in to the restaurant planning for this, I don’t think I could have made this happen. The total bill was $6.66. This was so strange, I started laughing. On my birthday, I treat myself to breakfast for the first time in years, order waffles for the first time in many years, and end up with a bill on Halloween for $6.66. I forgive the waitress her rudeness. If she had actually been doing her job and had gotten me the special, the bill would have been closer to $9. Only because of these uniquely unpleasant circumstances did I end up with this highly unusual bill on my Halloween birthday of all days.
I knew no one would believe this so when I went to the cashier, I asked for a copy of it, laughing about it and saying no one would believe it so I wanted a copy as proof. The cashier was happy to do this but there some doofus in line behind me who didn’t understand why I thought my bill was so hilarious. "Why are you laughing? What’s funny about getting a bill for $6.66?" "Are you kidding me! It’s Halloween and I get a bill for $6.66? 6-6-6, the mark of the devil, it’s in the Bible!"
"Oh, I thought that was 999."
"Nooo, look it up in the Book of Revelations, 666!"
"Oh, you did that on purpose. You came in here looking to order something that would come to $6.66?"
"Not really. I just came in here to get waffles not knowing what the price was, and even tried to upgrade the order but couldn’t get the waitress’s attention. No, this is highly unusual."
It’s amazing how quickly this guy went from not even knowing what 666 means to accusing me of staging the whole thing. People and Halloween! Well, I could relax now. It was still only breakfast-time and the gods of Halloween had already sprung their surprise. And it was a pretty good surprise this year. And a very funny one, assuming you’re not superstitious. As I said at the beginning, not to worry, it’s been a week and nothing bad has happened. Yet! … spooky …
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After breakfast, I met Paul at the AMC Livonia for a matinee of the very charming new Seth Rogen film, "50/50," then dinner at Champps where Paul gave me another birthday surprise of a book about piano. I got home just as the trick-or-treaters were winding down but decided nevertheless, for the first time in years, to get into my spooky ghoulish makeup.
I believe I’ve mentioned this get-up of mine in the past. I have this makeup kit that transforms me into a very realistic looking zombie. I put on a white base all over my face, then mix in some gray to make my skin look like I’ve been dead for three days. Add some stage blood and rotted teeth. But the piece-de-resistance are the plastic bulging bloodshot monster eyes that fit very nicely inside my eye sockets. I put my glasses on over them and, from more than a few feet away, they don’t look like fake eyes anymore, they look like the real thing.
When I was in California, I gave out treats every year and used to scare the crap out of all the trick-or-treaters. I could understand the kids being taken aback, but I was always amused that even the parents didn’t catch on to the fact that this was makeup. Here it’s Halloween and trick-or-treat, I answer the door all ashen-faced and covered in blood, and even the adults think I really look that way. One Halloween in L.A., there was some little boy who came to the door and just stared at me frozen. "Momma, momma, what’s wrong with his face!" And the mother who was perhaps ten feet away just at the bottom of the landing said, "Johnny, you’re not supposed to say things like that." Yup, Halloween and people! Even the mom thought this was really the way I looked.
I went next door to show off my "new look." Les opened the door and I stared at him all covered in blood and said through the rotting teeth, "I don’t feel so good." And Sue responded, "You don’t look so good." Poor Ally, I scared the crap out of her and Todd had to immediately reassure her it was just Mike. We had some wine and talked about movies. It was the perfect ending to one of the better Halloweens on record.
I opened this post with a "ghostly" photo I took of my "spooky" look. Since I don’t think any of you have actually ever seen a photo of my notorious Halloween costume, Todd snapped a really good photo that I have posted above.
Speaking of a perfect ending for a Halloween birthday, I found this one-day only special on Amazon Saturday - a $350 Stuhrling Swiss watch for $60. Ain’t it gorgeous!!! So I decided to buy it for myself as one final birthday gift. I’ve been looking to buy a fine dressy watch for some time, especially when interviewing starts. I spent Saturday researching Stuhrling up the wazoo and could find nothing but praise. They are a long established maker of fine Swiss watches. Granted, I probably wouldn’t have to pay $350 for it anywhere, but I found many places that wanted $150 for it. Even the Amazon "special" price was $125, reduced to $60 for one-day only Saturday. So I got it for half off even the discount price. Pretty spectacular timepiece for $60!
Hope everyone had a happy and "spooky" Halloween. See ya next year!
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