Chapter 36: Photo Studio

After finishing his bank errand, Henry ran another trip to the photo studio. This type of shop, nearly vanished from every street corner in the 2020s of the 21st century, was still quite common in the 1990s of the 20th century.

Especially in Los Angeles, the city embracing Hollywood, the capital of cinema. At the storefront of every photo studio, there were presentable beautiful photos and artistic portraits.

It might be an exceptionally exquisite beauty, or a charismatic man comparable to a male magazine model. Some photo studios even displayed photos of current stars or young photos of veteran stars at their storefronts.

Everyone wanted to use such beautiful photos to attract men and women coming to this capital of cinema.

If they are tourists, then leave a most beautiful memory of their youth.

If they are young men and women chasing dreams, then even more so; to stand out in an audition, the crucial first impression of visual appeal is paramount.

Without first providing a beautiful photo, one doesn't even have the qualification to climb the red sofa. Behind this glamorous world lies such reality and filth.

For Henry, beautiful photos were secondary, but he indeed needed to get himself an ID photo.

That thing Old Tang Mu took for him in Alaska had terrible lighting, making him look like he had just crawled out of hell, with a face that repelled both humans and ghosts.

With a height chart behind him and a nameplate in front, it could serve as a photo for before entering prison or for a wanted poster.

Looking at that visage, Henry didn't even have the thought of asking for the negative. Since the photos on driver's licenses and passports are stamped with steel seals, otherwise he would have definitely changed the photo immediately.

However, coming to Los Angeles, wanting to register with the actors' union or mix with talent agencies, a basic ID photo is still needed. Otherwise, applying for other jobs also requires a headshot. So he needed to get a photo taken.

This isn't the world of two or three decades later, where one holds a mobile phone, finds a white wall as a background, snaps a bunch of shots, then transfers them to a computer, edits the image, and prints it in color to finish the job.

In the 90s, digital cameras were still stuck in the laboratory. Moreover, due to the volume of electronic components, they had no comparability with traditional cameras at all. As for image quality, that goes without saying.

The mainstream of this era was still traditional cameras using film, and most people did not possess the skill to develop photos, so they had to bring them to the photo studio.

So if you want to take a photo, finding a photo studio is a must. The photo studio Henry found was very close to the motel where he was staying, convenient for picking up the photos later.

Just as he stepped inside, he saw an oily old white man approaching him. With a big belly protruding, he chuckled and said, "Welcome, what kind of photos does the customer want to take?"

"A set of wedding photos for newcomers is six thousand six hundred dollars, a set of family photos is four thousand two hundred dollars, a set of actor audition photos is three thousand eight hundred dollars, and a set of personal artistic beauty photos is two thousand two hundred dollars."

"Outdoor shoots require adding the photographer and assistant's one-day salary, guaranteeing over three rolls of film for you to choose from. If you can bring a second customer, the price gets a twenty percent discount. Want to shoot, do it fast."

Damn! What is the deal with these sets?

This feeling is like I want to buy a small electric scooter, but as soon as I walk in, I see a row of Ferraris, Porsches, big Bs, and Maseratis; who is this trying to drive to death?

Dumbfounded, Henry said with slight hesitation, "Um, I just came to take an ID photo."

"Hey, young man, not considering leaving some memory of your youth?" the chattering old white man continued to pitch.

"No, just an ID photo." Henry said this time decisively.

"Hey, think more, youth only comes once. When you get old and wrinkled, with all your teeth gone, you will regret not letting me take photos today." The old white man refused to give up.

But Henry retorted in his heart: I have experienced two youth periods!

But he didn't want to start an argument with anyone; Los Angeles has more than just one photo studio. Henry decisively turned his head and left, preparing to find another one.

"Wait, OK, OK, just an ID photo, no artistic photos. It's a pity for my skills; you know how many people have begged me, and I haven't agreed."

If this old man hadn't shouted out prices of "no business for three years, business for three years after opening," Henry might have believed him.

Just compare a number and you'll know; the average monthly salary of American blue-collar workers is roughly three to four thousand dollars. When he got his ID done at Old Tang Mu's place, his initial asking price was only two thousand dollars.

Comparing like this, it's not hard to understand how exaggerated this photo studio's asking price is.

However, since the other party asked him to stay, Henry stopped and listened to the other party's price. He said, "I want twelve 2-inch photos and twelve 1-inch photos. How much is that?"

"One fixed price, sixty dollars."

Henry didn't bargain, just turned his head and walked away again.

"Wait, wait, wait, if you're still not satisfied, then you tell me how much you want?" the old white man asked anxiously.

"Thirty dollars, pay half as a deposit first."

"Fuck, are you a Jew? Go find other photo studios, see if anyone will give you such a price."

"What a pity, I'm sure I'm not a Jew." Damn it, I'm an alien!

"Fifty dollars, can't go lower."

"Thirty dollars." Henry was too impatient to play the game of both sides giving a little. Take it or leave it.

But the old white man didn't give up, shouting, "Forty dollars, these are just material costs; I'm doing the labor for free."

Henry turned his head for the third time, not planning to stay.

This time he left again, and the old white man really got anxious. He hurriedly shouted, "OK, thirty dollars, I'm losing money helping you take the photo. Fuck, I actually hope you really are a Jew, then the Führer should have been more responsible back then. How great it would be if there was no D-Day."

Hmm, although I don't know the market rate for ID photos. But judging by the old white man's reaction, Henry felt he was still overpaying.

He rummaged around on his person, gathered fifteen dollars in bills, and slapped them on the counter.

Standing right in front of the counter, Henry saw something that made him very nostalgic. He pointed to the computer desk behind the counter, where there sat a brand new big-butt traditional CRT computer monitor, and underneath lay the horizontal computer case.

Seeing the brand name STARK, Henry asked curiously, "From Stark Industries? What grade of CPU does this computer use?"

The old white man, who had originally shown a disappointed expression, suddenly beamed and said, "Yo, kid, you know your stuff. This personal computer uses Intel's latest i486 processor, with built-in 4MB of RAM and a 120MB hard drive."

"The display adapter is a VGA card. Not the 4-color CGA, nor the 16-color EGA. Can you imagine? A 256-color VGA card can display such beautiful images."

"And it's equipped with 5.25-inch and 3.5-inch floppy drives and a CD-ROM drive, running efficiency so fast it flies. A masterpiece of Stark Industries, ordinary people can hardly buy it. What about DELL or IBM? At the same price point, their personal computers lose to Stark's."

... Hmm, suddenly I don't know where to start retorting.

Henry said dryly, "Yeah, no bluffing, I'm about to pee myself from fear."

New book seeking continued reading, favorites, and recommendations, thank you~~

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(End of this chapter)