It was with great enthusiasm that I sent Bill a message in mid 2004. He had recently left his position as President of Marvel Comics and launched a new company, 360ep, which specialized in intellectual property development and licensing deals. When I sent my resume through a contact page on the 360ep website, I never expected to hear back from him.

A few days later, I received an email from Bill. He was interested in finding out more about my background. We communicated via email, and he sent me 360ep's business plan (a HUGE document that outlined their mission statement and all their goals). I was excited at the prospect, and Bill suggested we take a look at an account manager position to see if it was a fit.

Bill first called me when I was busy driving a crate truck full of $30,000 worth of filming equipment around the streets of Hollywood. I was in Los Angeles with Conrad (heard on the AudioShocker's AFI 100 Movies 100 Years podcasts) to work on a short Fox Searchlab film about naked zombies and frat hazing. I hated it. On the other hand, Conrad liked the naked zombie production experience so much that he decided to move out to LA.

My big phone interview with Bill happened when I was apartment hunting in Brooklyn less than a month later, and it was awful. I was horribly unprepared and completely out of my league. Bill was gracious and inquisitive, but I just wasn't up to his standards. I didn't really read the business plan, and I had no idea what intellectual property development and licensing meant.

In one of my previous notes to Bill, I had mentioned something about how impressed I was with Kevin Smith and Joe Quesada's Daredevil relaunch. What a load of shit! I'd barely even read those issues, and it certainly wasn't a run I had on my list of life-changers. During our phone conversation, Bill asked me about my admiration for these particular Daredevil comics. Suffice to say, things went downhill from there.

What began as an opportunity for an account manager position was downgraded to the role of Bill's personal assistant. But Bill felt my college GPA was too low and I simply didn't have enough experience to work for 360ep at all. My opportunity for personal assistant to Bill Jemas became an opportunity for "let's talk in a year and see where you're at."

By the time it was one year later year, I still wasn't even close to being qualified. My employment of the previous 12 months consisted of three failed DC Comics interviews, getting fired from a high-profile NYC comic shop, quitting my job at Robert DeNiro's Tribeca Grill after four hours of unpaid work, interning as a receptionist at a music production house, and working as a summer camp counselor teaching kids how to make 2-D video games.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

As you may already know, I first tried out for the part of DC Comics editorial assistant, and my last audition was for MAD Magazine receptionist. But this second interview was for a spot with the DC Comics pre-press production team, something I was actually qualified for.

Basically, the job consisted of collecting artwork from artists, making copies of said artwork, spreading the copies around to editorial, and getting the finalized art ready for print. This was by far the best opportunity I've been up for in the comics industry, and I'm proud to say that I didn't royally fuck it up.

Since I had already interviewed once before with DC, I knew where to go and pretty much what to expect. I also had some college-level training with digital imaging so I was confident in my abilities to successful take on a pre-press position.

I met with one of the guys in charge of the print production efforts at DC. Honestly, mistake number one is that I forget this guy's name! (I should try and dig up his business card.) Anyway, he was a great person to interview with. No excessive pressure and he maintained a comfortable, conversational tone the whole time.

I probably spent more time talking about my personal life than my employment qualifications. In retrospect, that's what I think my interviewer wanted -- someone who could fit in with the print production atmosphere that was already established at DC Comics. As I've learned in subsequent interviews, landing a job is often more about present attitude than previous accomplishments.

While I certainly wouldn't say I nailed it, I know that I had a decent interview. But I didn't leave a lasting impression. The decision was down between another applicant and your truly. Obviously, the other individual won out.

Why? Because I didn't bring any schwag to my interview, because I didn't tell them exactly what they wanted to hear, because I didn't heavily research the responsibilities of the position, and because I didn't play up my interests that would have really sold me as the right guy for the department. I didn't do anything wrong, but I didn't do EVERYTHING right.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

Anyway, back to that diary thing... where was I? Ah, I remember. Something about leaving it at the bus station. That reminds me of the scene from The Ladies Man movie where Leon Phelps (a.k.a. Tim Meadows) encourages a lonely woman to hang out at the bus station with no panties on so she can meet a good man. Do you think there are women who do that? Ever since I watched that movie, bus stations have held a fascinating sexual allure. Maybe I'll have a sensual rendezvous at the bus station because Tim Meadows wasn't just telling a joke -- he was relating a time-tested method that sexy women have been using for centuries. They show up without panties on, and then I get to go home with them and trade sexual fluids. Maybe that's how I'll meet my future wife.

Okay, back to the analogy. Leaving the diary out for people to secretly manhandle -- that's what a blog is like if you're not getting direct feedback from online readers. I mean, people read this blog. I know they do. I see the webstats. But they don't leave comments, or link back to me from their own tedious blogs. So are they actually reading this? Or are they looking at the title, hoping for some sort of revealing photos of me at the bus stop with no panties on, and leaving when they don't find any?

Only a higher power knows. If there's one thing that religion has taught me, it's that God / gods / Jesus / Moses / Krishna / Buddha / Vishnu / Confucius / The Beatles are always watching us here on Earth, and in particular they are reading our blogs. Sort of like an omniscient group of Wikipedia editors. Except their Wikipedia is the entire Internet and the experiment is to see what happens when everyone on Earth is given the opportunity to share knowledge simultaneously. Early on, some people banded together to form a "group" to stop certain things from being put on the Internet, so the gods created Napster. Then other people formed an "RIAA" and thus the gods created the Gnutella network. And when other people joined up to start the "MPAA," the gods gave us BitTorrent. Now some people have gathered to pass the "Prioritizing Resources and Organization for Intellectual Property Act" to protect their horrid pieces of shiny plastic containing one to three hours of sequential still images (which, when shown one after the other at high speeds, create one long and continuous moving image), and the gods will give us something new. GnuTorrapster? I think so.

You're probably reading this and thinking, "What the fuck? When is this going to turn into a story about how Nick had an interview at Marvel Comics, but he showed up half an hour late and forgot to wear pants?" Well, you would be right for thinking that. That's what the first seven episodes of this column have led you to expect. And this installment is just like those others, except you're here to see history in the making this time. Instead of relating a past experience about how I wasted an opportunity to get into the comic book industry, I'm bringing you along for the ride. Every moment I spend NOT working on Time Log (my comic book currently in production) or Zombie Palin (my weekly webcomic that'll be outdated in about five to six days) is a wasted opportunity that will ultimately continue to push my dream of making comics for a living farther and farther away from me until it appears as a light at the end of a long tunnel and I won't know if I'm about to finally reach my goal or if I'm dead and the gods have come to take me away and send my remains across the information superhighway.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

If you know me, this might be hard to believe: I am currently on an advisory board for a student internship center. That's ironic because I've only been an intern once (with Man Made Music, a small music production company) and it was long after I finished college. Therefore, I am no expert on how to be a successful intern.

However, I am an expert on how to be a failed intern. I've applied with both DC Comics and Marvel Comics (numerous times). I've let great connections at publishing companies like Random House and Ingram slip through my fingers. And I even botched a shot with Nancy Cartwright, the voice of Bart Simpson.

Both of the Big Two comic book publishers posted their internship opportunities much later that I expected. I thought they would be locking down interns in March or April. Not the case. DC and Marvel waited until late May / early June. And I would have been a great candidate... if only I had waited for their postings and not given up earlier.

I think the best way to get a resume to the right Big Two people is to pass one along through an editor. As a college grad, I managed to have some light communication with editorial. I once sent Andy Schmidt a resume back when he was with Marvel, and I think that would have been a great "in" had I been eligible to be an intern (you have to be a student).

As for publishing companies, my dad actually used to be the head of Ingram's digital printing division. Think of the great connections I could have made there as an intern. Instead, I decided it would be better to work as a YMCA summer camp counselor. That was one of my worst ideas ever. Later, a connection of mine from Ingram became the President of Random House. And what did I do? I blew that connection too! I called him up once and I failed to sell myself whatsoever. Another week, another blown opportunity.

The biggest and best shot I ever botched was a chance to intern for Nancy Cartwright. She works out in Hollywood, so naturally the internship would have been spent in Los Angeles. She needed someone who could navigate the city and get around easily. I should have said, "Okay, Nancy. I don't know Los Angeles that well… yet. But give me a month to research the city and I'll know it like the back of my hand!" Instead, I rushed off the phone and promptly lost her number.

So here's what I learned from all this: 1) Be patient. If the opportunity doesn't come along right away, stay vigilant. I called Marvel Comics every week for four months, but I never got a response because the internships weren't being offered yet. By the time they were available, I had stopped calling. 2) Be enthusiastic. Prove you're a necessity by being assertive and resourceful. 3) Fucking intern ANYWHERE!!! If I had interned at any one of these places, I would have been well on my way. Instead, I spent my summers earning minimum wage while working sucky, depressing jobs.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

To say this was my most demeaning DC Comics interview would be an overstatement. My first interview experience with Joey Cavalieri and Joan Hilty was far more soul crushing. Not because of my interviewers -- they were great. Rather, the interview made me realize how savagely unqualified I was for the job.

Though not as bad as my first time at DC Comics, this interview with MAD was still pretty fucking bad. As if to prove that I learned nothing from my earlier shot at assistant editorial, I failed to research my MAD Magazine interviewer. Only being a casual reader of the magazine, I failed to even research MAD's publication history.

At my interview, I should have taken the time to grill the outgoing front desk receptionist. He was sitting right in front of me for a good ten minutes! Instead, I sat silently and looked at the large cardboard cut-outs of cartoon sound effects hanging down from the ceiling while he sat silently and answered a couple phone calls.

I'll never forget what my interviewer said the moment I sat down in his office: "Hi, Nick. You got any schwag for me?" He wasn't asking for weed. He was asking for stickers, art, music, CDs, DVDs, or anything I may have brought as a gift. Since that time, I've learned that bringing a gift to an interview - no matter how ridiculous - makes an excellent impression.

So, schwagless, I sat there and tried to keep up with the interview. I couldn't. The guy was asking me questions I was totally unprepared to answer. I barely knew the duties of a receptionist and I didn't know how to represent myself as a capable individual. Suffice to say that I never even heard back from Warner Bros HR. I called them for weeks only to find out that someone else already got the job.

Here's what my MAD Magazine interview taught me: 1) Be prepared!!! Research the job and research your interviewer. Practice responses to potential questions. 2) At the interview site, make conversation with anyone you can find. Ask questions about their job and make a friendly connection. 3) Bring some goddamned schwag!!! Cookies, candy, music, illustrations… fuck, even a funny hat! If I'd only taken the time to buy a little something for my interviewer, I could be writing this column from a cozy desk at MAD Magazine headquarters.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

It was early 2005. I had been emailing humormag@yahoo.com for a couple weeks after finding a vague posting on Monster.com calling for humor submissions. I suggest you check out those emails (a.k.a. my wildly inappropriate attempts at employment), and then come back and finish this story.

In some sort of twisted way that I'll never understand, the emails worked. The voicemail Tom left started something like this: "Nick, this is Tom DeFalco. How the hell am I supposed to hire you if you don't pick up your phone?"

Incase you don't know or need a quick refresher, Tom DeFalco is a seasoned comic book creator who served as Marvel Comics' Editor-in-Chief during the wildly successful years of 1987-1994. Tom currently writes Amazing Spider-Girl and other MC2 comics.

When I started sending my bizarre emails, I had no idea I had no idea that I'd be getting a personal call from a living comics legend. All I had to go on was an incredibly cryptic job posting for a new magazine.

In actuality, Tom was heading up a revival of Cracked Magazine, the ugly stepsister of MAD Magazine. Ironically, MAD Magazine was the reason I was on the phone with DC Comics (a.k.a. Warner Bros) HR in the first place. I was scheduling an interview for the job of MAD's front desk receptionist (more on that in a future column).

Eventually, Tom and I connected. He explained that Cracked Magazine was gearing up to turn into Cracked.com. They intended to keep the same irreverent style of humor but the delivery was going to be more like the cheeky pages from the front of Maxim.

For help, I called up my writing partner, Pete (of the AudioShocker column, Culturology). Our new standout idea was a fake ad for a "Puking Wand." The piece was a satire of the mass media tendency to promote physically dangerous habits as beauty trends.

After pitching throughout the spring of 2005, our Puking Wand idea was tentatively accepted. Our other concepts were not so lucky. Since I'm here writing this column and not a new piece for Cracked.com, I think you can guess what happened.

Here's what I learned the hard way: 1) If you come into contact with a guy like Tom DeFalco, keep the connection alive and don't lose his contact info; 2) Don't stop pitching until an editor gives in and publishes your work; and 3) never tell your prospective editor that you'll be a "cheap date" when it comes to freelancing (even Tom told me that was a bad idea when I said it to him). As you can see, I made a lot of mistakes while pitching my work to Cracked.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

from: nickmarino@gmail.com
to: humormag@yahoo.com
date: Thu, Mar 3, 2005 at 10:39 PM
subject: Humor Mag - hire me you bitches

Hey -

I found your info on monster.com. I am all about this Humor Mag thing. I kid you not. This what I do. I'll send along my resume, but to really get a feel for why I am the new Renaissance man of comedy you need to see my videos, my music, read my articles, and see my cartoons. I could help getting multimedia for the website going, and I do A LOT of comedy music work (and my production skills are mint). I really would like to learn more about this, and I'm positive you would like to learn more about me.

Thanks, Nick

from: nickmarino@gmail.com
to: humormag@yahoo.com
date: Fri, Mar 4, 2005 at 12:30 PM
subject: Humor Mag - you still haven't hired me

Hey "Humor Mag" -

Listen, I'm emailing because you still haven't hired me. You should give me a mail address so I can send you some writing, music, video, and cartoon samples. Trust me, you really want all these. Hook me up. Then hire me.

Nick

from: nickmarino@gmail.com
to: humormag@yahoo.com
date: Mon, Mar 7, 2005 at 10:26 AM
subject: Re: Humor Mag - wait... hire me

Hi Humor Mag -

Just saying whats up, seeing how you're doing. Hope you had a good weekend. I know I did. Oh by the way, just wondering what you were doing Wednesday night. There's this little restaurant I know. kind of a hole in the wall. It's real romantic tho, I mean that is if you like that sort of thing. Anyway, hire me.

Love, Nick

from: nickmarino@gmail.com
to: humormag@yahoo.com
date: Thu, Mar 10, 2005 at 12:47 AM
subject: Re: Humor Mag - about hiring me

hi.

i missed you.

hire me. i need a job.

from: nickmarino@gmail.com
to: humormag@yahoo.com
date: Fri, Mar 11, 2005 at 3:45 PM
subject: Re: Humor Mag - i wasn't cheating on you

i'm so sorry i missed your call, baby.

i swear it wasn't another Humor Mag i was talking to... OK, maybe it was. but listen - she's nothing compared to you. she doesn't have your easy to remember email, or your same sense of mystery. i can forget about her, really i promise.

listen, i left you a message. all you have to do is call me back. you know the number.

i'll be thinking about you.

passionately yours,
Nick

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

I'm not exactly sure who helped push my status along to help me land the interview. It could have been the DC editor that I had been communicating with via email. It could have been my dad's friend who worked for Time Warner and passed along my resume. It could have even been Neal (of the AudioShocker), who interviewed with Warner Bros around that time and possibly mentioned my name to HR.

I was up for the position of Assistant Editor to Joey Cavalieri and Joan Hilty, both in working in the DCU proper at the time (Joan was also running the Johnny DC imprint). The physical application process with Warner Bros was daunting, akin to taking a standardized test. I had to dig so far back into my own personal history that I actually couldn't remember some of the addresses, phone numbers, and names that they wanted to see.

Afterwards, Warner Bros HR sent me over to the DC Comics offices, part of a large building nestled into the upper edge of Times Square in New York City. I can't speak for how they look nowadays, but the interior hallways were covered in giant paintings of DCU heroes with huge smiles on their faces. It was both awesome and unsettling at the same time.

My interview with Joey Cavalieri could best be described as uncomfortable. I was totally unprepared. I went out of my way to complement him on his editing work on Kyle Baker's Plastic Man, only to find out that the comic was so low maintenance that Joey's involvement consisted solely of checking for spelling errors on the lettered pages.

Meeting with Joan Hilty went slightly better, though still unspectacular. While I felt like I would have worked well with her, I also felt as though I offered nothing special or out of the ordinary to entice her to choose me as her assistant.

Of course, I didn't get the job. The biggest lesson I can pass along is this: do your homework before you go on an interview. Research the hell out of the position you're interviewing for and the people you're going to meet. I should have prepared a speech extolling my virtues as a copy editor. I should have complimented Joey on the comics he wrote, not on the ones he barely edited. Instead, I made minimal effort to sell myself as an attractive candidate for employment.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

Everything about my interview went smooth like butter until I was asked, "Do you read any online comic book reviews?" Not reviews, I told him, but I read news and interviews on Newsarama. A look of shock washed over my interviewer's face as he asked, "What?! Why don't you read Pop Culture Shock?"

I didn't have a good answer for the guy. Maybe because I barely knew anything about Pop Culture Shock. Maybe because Newsarama was more comics-centric back then. Either way, there was an air of sadness in his voice that made absolutely no sense.

Eventually, I got the job. This was around the time that the Countdown to Infinite Crisis cover image was being teased. Everyone speculated that Batman was holding a dead Nightwing. As I was stuffing poly bags with back issues, I made an offhand comment about the Jim Lee art.

"Psssh, who cares if he dies?" I said jokingly, figuring that my sarcasm was inherent in my tone of voice. "Nightwing sucks anyway."

"Don't let Dave hear you say that," another employee whispered. "Nightwing is his favorite character."

"What?!" Dave shouted from across the room. "Who said Nightwing sucks? Nick, Why would you say that?!"

History repeated itself only a couple days later when I was part of the Tuesday crew carrying Wednesday's new books up the painfully long staircase leading up to the store. Warlock was the topic and I made another offhand comment.

"Psssh, who cares if he never has another series?" I said, jokingly. "Warlock sucks anyway."

"Don't let Andy hear you say that," another employee whispered. "Warlock is his favorite character."

"What?!" Andy shouted from the top of the stairwell. "Who said Warlock sucks? Nick, Why would you say that?!"

At that point, I should have just quit and saved myself the degradation that would follow. If it wasn't already bad enough that I was carrying heavy boxes up a double-long staircase in the middle of a harsh NYC winter, I was also getting yelled at for writing a quick note on the back of a store business card and getting my headed farted on by another employee.

A couple days later, I was suddenly called into the back office. "Nicholas," my boss said (he had an annoying habit of calling me by my full name), "we're going to have to let you go. It's just not working out." Fine by me! The bastards never paid me the raise they said I would get after my first week. Plus, I was tired of getting farted on.

Still, this was another opportunity blown. I never got to work at a comic creator signing, and I never got to understand the intricacies of major market comic book sales. If I had kept my mouth shut and stopped making wisecracks about B-list superheroes, maybe I would have had a future in comics retailing.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.

My first truly formative experience took place (I think) in 2002. I caught wind of a gallery opening in New York City honoring the artists who worked on Heroes (Marvel's charity book benefitting the September 11th cleanup efforts). Not only was this a great historical moment in comics, but it was a terrific venue to meet professionals outside of the convention circuit.

The event was put on by the New York City Comic Book Museum (NYCCBM), an effort run by David Gabriel (before he was Marvel's Director of Sales). It was a terrific show, with tons of great original art from the Heroes book and even greater comic book legends in attendance. Early on, I approached a table of distinguished elderly gentlemen (who had to be silver age comic book greats). Ignorantly, I asked them if Jim Steranko was at the show. They shrugged their shoulders and looked at me like I was nuts.

And I was nuts. There's no better proof than when I ran into Gene Colan later on. In one of my more embarrassing moments, I shoved my Essential Captain America vol. 2 in front of his face and asked him to sign it. Was I out of my freaking mind? Have Gene Colan sign a black and white reprint book made of newsprint?

I was out of my mind and extremely excited to meet the artist who helped create the Falcon. To my surprise, Gene didn't recall being the first artist to draw the Falcon. In fact, I don't think he remembered the character at all. I had to kindly explain to him that yes, he was the first artist to ever draw Sam Wilson. And then I had him sign the crappy copy of the cover of the Falcon's first issue in my newsprint reprint book.

After a couple hours, my sister was sufficiently tipsy from the cash bar and she was determined to help me network. She struck up with Bill Jemas, then President (a.k.a. Publisher) of Marvel Comics. Bill imparted an excellent piece of advice that I now pass along to you: if you want to work in comics, get in on the business end. Even if your end goal is creative, work your way up through comic book sales, production, or admin. Bill used himself as an example, noting how he was an executive with Fleer and worked his way into one of the top spots at Marvel publishing.

I haven't taken Bill's advice. Don't get me wrong – I've tried, numerous times. I just never got my foot in the door and kept it there (those are, of course, the subjects of future columns). Point is, I went to one of the world's greatest comic book networking opportunities and all I left with was a confused signature and advice I didn't follow.

And that's just another reason why I'm going to have to sneak into the comic book industry if I ever want to make it in.