The Bold Italic (November 2019)

Working Three Jobs Nearly Killed Me

but it made me fall in love with San Francisco

One Sunday evening, I ran up and down the stairs of Zuni Café for six straight hours, delivering roasted chickens to guests who thought it was hilariously original to point to their empty plates and say, “I hated it.” Upstairs, Clive Owen devoured two plates of gigante beans. Downstairs, Yo Yo Ma asked for appetizer recommendations. I left sometime after midnight, exhausted, with $200 in my pocket. When I got home, I rode the elevator up to my apartment and collapsed.

But at 6 a.m. my phone rang.


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