Now I'm bleeding

The next day Ursula called me up and said Ms. Davis had decided not to hire me on the grounds that I was an actress and that she would end up feeling responsible for helping me and introducing me around. She also said that I had not been forthcoming on my application. Still bruised and battered from her tongue lashing the night before, Ursula needed a scapegoat. Ms. Davis was thoroughly pissed off because I had the audacity to work for a living and it needed to be somebody's fault besides hers. It would have been much better for everyone had Ursula acknowledged she was dealing with a difficult, eccentric person and a very young girl. Instead she "Positioned" herself as the victim and me as a scheming little liar to cover her butt.

I called Ms. Davis in tears telling her I had quit my job and that I was a terrible actress. She hung up on me. I called Randal and told him what happened. He was so angry he called Ursula and her business partner, canceled both their appointments and told them never to grace his salon with their presence again. Everyone was in a complete uproar just because a little old lady was having a difficult time adjusting to a new servant. I found later that she had hired and fired approximately ten women before and after me trying to find the right person. The soap opera was completely unnecessary, and it got even better. After Randal canceled her appointment, Ursula called me in a rage telling me I was a poisonous little Scorpio and that I would never work in this town again. I swear I'm not making this up. She went on dropping names at break-neck speed to make sure I know how goddamn important she was.

"And by the way, you misspelled Acapulco's on your application!" she said and hung up. I would like to report that I uttered a scathing retort before the line went dead. I did not. I cried inconsolably for a day. Then I picked myself up, Randal gave me a smart new haircut, and I went out looking for a job.

Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "She never would have made it. She was the wrong person for that job." You're right. I was definitely not ready for it. But I never got a chance to prove my incompetence. It's okay. I got to hang out with Bette Davis and ruin her clothes. I got to talk to her and listen to her swear. And the cool thing is, I know she really liked me. And I her, despite the fact that she was a spoiled diva and totally human. I was in awe. We were both women who were crusty on the outside and soft underneath. Her crust was just older than mine and it had an Oscar. My friend Randal and I both eventually ended up back in the Northwest, me temporarily and he forever. Randal died in Spokane with only his mother at his side when my son was about a year old. My family and I made the trek across the state to see him and say goodbye. Nobody from his Hollywood life was there to see him off. A famous songstress, client, and supposed close friend sent him a copy of her new cd as he lay on his death bed. Hollywood is such a warm, loving place. Anyway God bless you, Randal. I love you, miss you, and haven't had a decent haircut in years. You were the best.