Processsss
Process. Process. Processsss. A wall covered with flip-chart tear-sheets. Yellow, green, purple, and pink Post-It notes. Flow, direction, decisions, process, process, process.
My life for the past two weeks has been documenting and analyzing business processes. My teacher is Greg. My material is TMSI. My tools are pen and paper, Sharpies, stickies, Visio, and Word. Specific to intermediate to generic and back again. Abstracting and mapping and locating gaps and systems and areas for improvement. This is the nitty gritty, baby.
Los Angeles was Los Angeles again—filled to the brim with cars, would-be starlets, and homeless people. It is a vast, unfathomable place, stumbling around in a daze, in search of an identity and a soul, and doomed to found neither. I do not like it.
We stayed in Beverly Hills on Rodeo Drive, which is more dead than Urbana, Illinois at night. No shit. Everything closes at 5, since the clientele of the exclusive boutiques prowls Rodeo only during the hours when the working class is off muddying their hands. But Fendi (across the street) and Valentino (next door) had cute window displays!
On the last night of the trip, Greg and I hooked up with a friend of his and another guy and saw an L.A. Kings game. We arrived like consummate L.A. types, with 6 minutes remaining in the second period, but hey—when in Rome, do as the Romans do, right? (And c’mon, it’s hockey.) Homeboy works for DirecTV, which is a primary sponsor of the Staples Center, so our $87.50 seats were suh-weet—like, 14th row suh-weet—and free, like $0.00 free.
But the pinnacle of the night was our two separate trips to The Dresden, an old Hollywood joint made famous by the movie Swingers (among others). The Dresden was a remarkable place: remarkable for its decor (late 60’s lounge), waiters with extensive knowledge of the moisture of grilled fish (the man should really write a book), and the inimitable and legendary musical duo known simply as Marty and Elayne. This duo can crank out “Livin’ La Vida Loca” and “Stayin’ Alive” like no two on the planet, although Greg and I were unfortunately unable to stay to hear the former (pesky plane to catch). Suffice it to say, however, that Marty and Elayne made an impression on us TMS boys, and the Dresden—with its old Hollywood charm and inimitable ambience—left us begging for more like a teenager at a peep show. A strange peep show.
December 12th, 2003 at 3:18 pm
Good to have you back.
I was on Rodeo Drive back in ‘91, visiting friends who live out in Cali. This was during the day, so it was a tad busier than it sounds like it was when you were there.
My mom swores she saw James Caan, but I don’t think it was him.
I *know* that Ms. Suzanne Pleshette strode past us, however, her big-as-the-sun dark shades thrown as she walked past. I’d never seen someone literally stick their nose up at people, but I did that day.
It’s like, “Please, Suzanne, nobody wants your stupid autograph.”
Hehe. Oh well.
Hey man, where’s my beer?!
Later.