No work recently....I mean the tumbleweeds are blowing down my street. I haven't wished for the phone to ring this badly since 8th grade when I had a crush on Billy Olson. Of course he didn't like me back. Gosh, he was cute...
Where was I?
Anyhoo, with no work comes no witty and insightful commentary on the state of the industry today, so I thought I'd regale you with a story from my past.
I'll pause for those of you who want to slip out to see what Blood, Sweat and Tedium is blogging about today.
Still here? Great!
Many years ago, I applied for and got my first movie job as an office PA/receptionist. On my first day the production coordinator (who I would later learn was the most evil, vile, demon spawn to ooze the earth... but that's another story) haphazardly showed me how to use the phone. I was so nervous, and this new environment seemed like a war zone. But I was determined to hang in there.
At lunch time a call came in, "God, damn it, where the fu** is my God damn car? Get the coordinator on the fu**ing line!!!" (note: he didn't say the asterisks, he was dropping the f-bomb. Just making sure you're following)
I started to tremble. I had never been spoken to in that way my whole life. So, I pressed the transfer button and then Ms. Evil Production Coordinator's line as instructed.
Then another call came in. "Don't fu**ing put me on hold!!! I want to know where my fu**ing car is!!! Get me the coordinator!!! And don't fu**ing put me on hold!!!"
Now, I really was nervous so I carefully hit transfer and her line again.
As expected the phone rang again. "How fu**ing stupid are you? Don't put me the fu** on hold!! I need to talk to the fu**ing coordinator."
So this time I did not press transfer, instead I laid the phone down (I could still hear him screaming obscenities at me) and I ran down the hall to the evil coordinators office. "Um, Ms. Evil Coordinator, I have Mr. Douchebag Producer on the phone and for some reason the transfer button keeps cutting him off." I meekly say. She replies "Just hit transfer and give the call to me"
So, I tell Mr. Effinheimer what I am going to do and that she is waiting on the other line to pick up.
He says, "Well, that fu**ing better work!"
I transferred the call and the phone rang again.
"How the fu** hard is it to fu**ing transfer a fu**ing call!!! I need to find my fu**ing car!! Tell her to fu**ing come down to your fu**ing phone and answer my call. Don't fu**ing put me on hold!!!
Oh, and to add to the stress the other phone lines were ringing off the hook with innocent, non-douchebag callers.
So, I took a chance, and a deep breath and put Mr. Effendouche on hold, ran down to her office and said "Excuse me please, but the transfer is not working, and he really needs to talk to you do you think you could come to my phone and answer it?" She sneered at me (I'm pretty sure flame shot out her nostril's too), and then commanded her assistant to follow me to my phone.
Her assistant picked up the line and the conversation went as follows: " Your car? It's parked on level two just outside the door... yes. You are on level two? Yes, it's there on level two just outside the door ....OK, you found it? ( He had walked right past it several times) What? Sorry about that, it's her first day."
I did not get fired....
Instead I was forced to work for three long tortuous months with this evil coordinator, her side kick, and the vile Mr. Effing Producer. To this day, working on that movie was my worst film experience.
Karma you ask?... Mr. Douchenheimer Producer is doing quite well for himself, working on blockbuster films and Ms. Evil Demon Spawn Coordinator still manifests herself from time to time and seems to make a good living making PAs' lives miserable.
And me? I'm just here waiting for a call from a much nicer coordinator.
...or Billy Olson.