You Can’t Be Serious(91)

There’s no denying that being asked to give that speech and having it go well felt like a special moment for me. My parents, who watched with Josh from a special seating area in the arena, were proud. In the big picture, the convention and the campaign were about making America a fairer place to live. While my primary motivation for delivering a kickass speech lay squarely in my belief that Barack Obama and Joe Biden deserved a second term, I felt like my professional journey had come full circle.

Unlike all the silly “White Castle to the White House” headlines, my government coworkers didn’t see it as a hindrance that I came from the world of entertainment. Being in DC thankfully hadn’t made me lose my voice as an artist. I’ve always believed in the power of thinking creatively and discussing serious topics at the same time—in many ways, that was the essence of an administration that prioritized the input of a younger generation. If nothing else, at least after this I had one more credit on my Google search results: #SexyFace.


1?And left the nails for the next person, don’t worry.

2?Actual quote.

3?Except for winning a Pulitzer.

4?When President Obama signed the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, we made sure that soldier was invited to the ceremony.

5?I did not describe it this way. But I might have if they let me.

6?Willie Robertson from Duck Dynasty spoke at the 2016 Republican National Convention. They really do love that show!





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE HOW TO DO BUSINESS WITH GANGSTAZ




A few years ago I was offered a small part in a tiny independent Indian film shooting outside Mumbai. The dark, dramatic script offered me the opportunity to play the type of brooding role I hadn’t done before, so I welcomed the challenge. It wasn’t going to be the kind of payday people often think of. For two months of work, I’d make $11,000, before taxes. On that pretax eleven grand, I would need to pay a ten percent commission to my agent, another ten percent to my manager, and five percent to my lawyer.

Compared to Hollywood (universally known as the capital of morality), what you should know about Bollywood is that Indians tend to abide by their own set of contradictory standards in business. Yes can mean no, No can mean no, and the infamous Indian head wobble can mean “yes I understand,” which can also mean… no. If you’re unfamiliar with these rules, I assure you they are both infuriating and impressive—you might want to pull your hair out and high-five someone at the same time. Doing business in India is a bit like playing mind games with the world’s best poker player.

I am terrible at poker.

After you accept an offer for an independent film, it’s standard practice for the producers to quickly wire-transfer your salary into a third-party escrow account that is released to you according to the filming schedule. After I accepted, a week went by. Then another. Three weeks before I was set to leave for the shoot, instead of a confirmation of the escrow transfer, I received an emailed first-class ticket on British Airways from LAX to Mumbai. This seemed so fancy!

I called Spilo. “Dude. Can you ask them to give me the money they spent on that ticket instead? I can buy myself an economy seat and pocket the rest!”

My manager laughed. “I think the airline might be a partner of the production. Companies can write off certain expenses, and they have financiers who cover others, so unfortunately, you can’t take the ticket cost as cash. But their $11,000 wire transfer will come through soon; it has to show up before you get on the plane.”

Fair enough. I had work to do. In the weeks before the flight, I prepped for the project: doing Skype rehearsals with the director, creating my character’s backstory, and breaking down beats in the script. Three days before I was set to leave, an update from my team: “Just a heads-up—the salary escrow hasn’t arrived. The producers said there were two bank holidays back-to-back in India, so it didn’t get out in time. They’re begging us to let you get on the plane on Monday anyway. We obviously can’t do that.”

This wasn’t good. Leaving from LA on Monday would get me to India on Wednesday for rehearsal. We were to start shooting on Thursday. “If I wait for the money to come,” I told Spilo, “I’ll lose that valuable rehearsal day with my director and cast.” My manager was insistent: “Kal, you’d also lose any leverage in getting paid if these guys turn out to be shady. You can’t get on that plane.”

I got on the plane. This project was never about money; it was about pushing myself creatively. I really didn’t want to lose the only rehearsal day I had before we started production. I decided to trust my new bosses. With no more bank holidays holding things up, the money would surely arrive by the time I landed in India. I put my bag in the overhead bin and settled in for a long flight.



* * *



This first-class cabin, man oh man, I had never seen anything like it! The British Airways flight attendants had posh English accents like on The Crown and constantly came around to ask the passengers if we needed anything. They’d also apologize for everything.

“May I take your coat, sir?”

“Oh, sure, thanks.”

“So sorry I didn’t come to take it earlier.”

This is how rich people roll?

A woman appeared by my side as I buckled my seat belt. “Can I get you a drink, sir?” She handed me a six-page menu of fancy, unfamiliar beverage options.