The day I got fired was the same day I got scammed out of $2000 (estimated) in an apartment scam. This meant I still had to live out of my car and thug it out on the streets of LA.

Next kitchen situation I landed myself in was for this really sketchy guy. His name was Raj. Only it wasn’t, his name was like David or something but he went by Raj.

I have no problem breaking anonymity with this dude, he was a scumbag.

The year was 2019 and I responded to a craigslist ad looking for kitchen help. This guy owned two RVs and a loft downtown. He agreed to let me stay in the RV and he’d pay me as long as I worked x amount of events and hours for him.

Seemed reasonable at the time.

I didn’t particularly want to live in an RV, I was more interested in the
loft, but I was told the loft was in a state of disrepair etc.

So this Raj guy was friends with these dudes who owned a bar and he would use their kitchen for prep work before the bar staff opened up the place. Which meant me and this dude named DJ would be up at 6am cutting fucking Zucchini and making whatever dishes we were going to hawk at the Mar Vista Farmers market.

Because I was on board, it allowed us two booths at the farmers market. I was hawking vegan lasagna while DJ was across from me selling vegan queso. We would then take our equipment and food to store at a different location in Venice and spend the rest of our time just chilling in the RV.

I had to share the RV with DJ.

DJ was from Hyderabad, around my age perhaps a stones throw older, and
he was on the lam from the long arm of his stern Indian parents. They sent him to the states for college, but they didn’t know he dropped out years ago, left NYC and thumbed it out west. We got along quite well. He was a gambling addict, I was a drinker and habitual weed guy, real match made in heaven.

Raj had the brilliant idea of expanding his empire by buying a food truck. He stole another chef’s recipes, had both of DJ and myself train under that other chef for a day, and then we were back to back in a food truck on Abbot Kinney slinging vegan Mexican food.

We worked the food truck on Cinco de Mayo in Venice and some drunk guy gave me $20 for a free sample. That was a shining moment of pride for my jaded ego.

When we weren’t in the food truck, we were in the RV. Once or twice a week we had to move the RV to avoid street sweeping tickets.

Sounds easy, but it wasn’t. Imagine playing Tetris but with cars and parking spaces.
One night I’m chilling alone in the RV (DJ had a very interesting and full schedule) and I hear a knock on the door. This drunk dude wielding a bag of El Pollo Loco is like “You want a burrito?” So I invited him in, and we were shooting the shit. This guy- total stranger- has the balls to criticizet the way my wrists go limp when I sit. He tells me “this is how a man keeps his wrists!” The reason my wrists go limp when I’m at rest, is I play a lot of guitar. I play other instruments too, but those muscles are extremely tight, and any chance I get to keep them at complete rest, I take
full advantage. He said some other stuff, but I don’t remember and because this guy was wasted. I woke up the next day and I found he forgot his keys in the RV. I met up with him later to give him his keys back and he was a
completely different person. Very shy, reserved and embarrassed about his
behavior the night before. I was cordial and laughed it off. He didn’t seem to
share the same sentiments.

I had people over at the RV a few times, sometimes more successful than others. But it dawned on me after a month and a half, this Raj guy hadn’t paid me a dime. Living in this RV was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth. I took my grievances to Raj.

Raj had his hands full because he had hired this bald guy named Clint, who ended up quitting in less than a week and we were supposed to be working some big festival that we did not have the manpower for.

That Clint dude was like in his 30s and his mom came with him to the job interview. He stayed in the 2^nd RV until he quit.

I walked into our RV one day and saw Clint playing my guitar and I about fucking ripped his head off over it. I was ranting on to the tune of “just ask first, if it’s not your don’t touch it” shit.

Well I tell Raj my grievances and he comes at me with the energy of a sad puppy, “Well I need you for this festival this weekend. Does your girlfriend want to work the festival too?” I was like bro, don’t drag anyone else into this shit, are you gonna pay me? He said yes, I held my breath and said, “Okay lets go”

DJ and I drive the RV to Joshua Tree, Raj drives the food truck. DJ and I get there mid-day and I’m immediately fraternizing with all the hippies. There’s a lot of women there. I ended up getting so many phone numbers it was disgusting. When I was washing the dishes in the communal
dish area I also stumbled across a horse head mask which I took. I found out
later that the horse head mask was definitely a furry mask, and I have since
given it to someone else along the journey of life.

The festival in Joshua Tree centered around yoga and meditation. It’s an alcohol free event, which on day 1 Raj’s girlfriend shows up with a bag full of Bud Lights. She ended up running off with some Indian dude “on some spiritual walk” yeah my ass.

I drank all her Bud Lights and when she was a little put off by my
boorishness, I explained this isn’t personal, your boyfriend has not paid me
and this is where we’re at. Well I bent the right ear. At the end of the
festival, despite arguing every possible claim he could against the hours I
worked, he did pay me about $100 less than what he really owed me. He claimed to deduct for bathroom breaks and smoke breaks. He then told me I smell like beer as I washed my hands clean of the fucker.

The next day I borrowed some money from some friends and left LA to move across country and drive a sixteen seater party bike.

To be continued.