December 13, 2008
You know how when you listen to NPR, they have those little blurbs from their sponsors, instead of commercials? I heard the most ridiculous one this week, it was a new double-bill at some theater (not a MOVIE theater, the other kind). I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP:
The evening was to open with a piece for four hands. Not… piano, not quatre-mains, but, like, HAND DANCING! Against a backdrop! Not a comedy!
And then the main event was a gripping one-man re-enactment of the Apollo moon landing. Also not a comedy!
YES. WHERE DO I BUY TICKETS.
Another thing that happened last week was that I had a meeting with a producer, and you will be happy to know that I was totally calm and NOT SWEATY OR PANICKY.
Because I have pretty easy-to-achieve standards for what’s exciting, one of my favorite things about meetings is that you get free water (or a Diet Coke, but if you get the Diet Coke you have Cold Damp Hand Due To Condensation On The Can to deal with when you go to shake the guy’s hand, and do you really need more caffeine? Probably not.) Basically, FREE WATER? SIGN ME UP.
Another thing I like about meetings is that when you get there the assistant is all “Elana? Right this way.” and polite and clearly thinks that you’re some variant of Real Writer instead of a fellow assistant who asked if she could maybe duck out of work for a couple of hours if she got someone to cover her phones. (Thank you, Lauren.)
After you have a meeting, you have to call your rep-type-people- you know, so they can find out how it was, if you did something awful or came off like a genuis, etc. So I obediently called Manager-Guy.
Hey! How was it?
Good, I think.
(paranoia kicks in)
WHY. WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD?
…nothing. So it went well?
I think so.
So you didn’t insult any of his movies?
…no. Also, that was that ONE TIME.
The other thing I must mention is my friend B–, who is EXTREMELY HILARIOUS, so hilarious that sometimes people at work give him the stink-eye for being funny when they think he should be stressed out, but he can’t help it, hilarity just leaks from him like… okay, I guess there’s really nothing nice that leaks from people.
ANYWAY. Early in the week he told me that we should run away and become hobos and ride the rails. I agreed that this was an outstanding plan, and said that if he would take care of the threadbare brown suits and raggedy handkerchiefs (for tying jauntily about the throat) I would bring the bags-on-a-stick. And then later he said that he thought that assistants, like hobos, should have a CODE, where you could mark the desk with secret signs that would mean things like “Good food in this office” or “This executive is crazy”, so the next person would KNOW.