Wrong Guy.

On Monday I received a most unexpected call. I'd applied for a runner position with a big recording studio down here with several branches. I had a few friends who'd worked with them so I thought I might have a chance at getting in on the ground level but the woman on the phone was talking like I was an important person. In fact she was seeing if I was able to come in and engineer a session! What? Me? I mean, I have some experience with this stuff but these people had never met me. They'd never even emailed me a response to my runner inquiry! This was all happening so fast!

Woman: Hi David, this is [important studio].
Me: What? Oh, hi!
Woman: I don't know if you'd noticed but we put your profile up on our website.
Me: Um... no, I didn't notice that... [pulling up the website to see what she's talking about]
Woman: There's a session in a couple of weeks, a 17-year-old girl is laying down some pop vocals. She saw your profile and requested you. The pay is $25 an hour. Are you available?
Me: Well... sure, but I've never been in the studio before. Which one is it?
Woman: It'll be in Studio A.
Me: [wondering what I'd thought that question would answer] OK, well I don't know if I'd feel comfortable getting paid for a session if I have no experience with the board. Is there any way I could familiarize myself with the studio before the session?
Woman: Sure, why don't you come in Wednesday morning and I'll show you around?

Clearly this was madness or providence. Or both. I knew I was in over my head but if I could get a passing knowledge of the studio itself - what equipment they have, what plugs into what, etc. - I could probably engineer a pop vocal session. I mean, tracking vocals just requires a good mic, a preamp, a compressor if you want it and some patience. I'd just spend the next couple of weeks re-familiarizing myself with ProTools, get a cheat sheet of some hot keys and walk tall like I knew what I was doing. For all I know this is a Rebecca Black situation - I bet this girl's parents just bought a shmancy session for their pop-star wannabe daughter and no one will even know the difference. And if I screw up... well, I can't be double-unemployed.

So I braved rush hour traffic this morning in what felt like an inaugural sally into the ranks of working Los Angeles. The studio sits near Hollywood and Vine, imposing behind its wrought-iron gate and non-descriptiveness. The buildings around it scream for the attention of passers-by but this place is clearly a Members Only club. I try the door and press the intercom. Though I can't really hear the voice on the other end over the noise of the street it doesn't sound like I'm expected.

After some back and forth they buzz me into a lobby, all modernist furniture and gold records. The woman behind the desk is confused. Why am I here? I was told to come check out the studio, I tell her. I have a session in a couple of weeks. "Yes, I know," she says, "I set up the session."

Before things can get completely Kafkaesque it becomes clear that this woman had actually scheduled the session with an actual engineer over email but had made the initial phone call to me, not realizing we weren't the same person. You seeee, she thought I was Dave Dominguez, who made his name engineering Papa Roach's Infest and Staind's Break the Cycle. He also engineered Guns n' Roses' Chinese Democracy, Tupac (posthumously, I'm guessing) and, most impressively, Weezer's Pinkerton.

That is not me. I have never engineered Pinkerton and I would've felt stupid standing there but I just smiled and nodded because it all made more sense than what had previously seemed to be happening. Upon realizing her mistake the woman came and gave me a hug, which wasn't exactly what I needed at that moment but a nice gesture, I guess.

"Do you have any runner positions?" I asked. "I, uh... went to school for this stuff and I've worked in a studio before." She promised she'd put my resume at the top of the pile. And I'm calling that progress!