I can remember the exact moment I decided
to move to Paris. Hard to believe it was only
a few short weeks ago. I was sitting through a
job review with my then-boss, a handsome,
ambitious senior manager newly transferred from
the Southern headquarters. I was his executive
assistant and we worked for a famous film studio
in California. Having played the movie game right
out of college, I'd spent the last twelve years
climbing to the top of my league, both in salary
and reputation.
I was a professional miracle worker.
You want four, front-row tickets to a game that's
been sold out for months? No problem. Want me to
convince accounts payable that ten kegs of
unsalted butter are a 'normal business expense'?
Done. Need me to get United Airlines to change
the Miami flight, thus rescheduling hundreds of
people, just so you don't miss your manicure?
Hmm, yes, well, sit here and sip this while I
gently explain why (1), that can't happen and,
(2) why you will not even think of firing me over
it.
In short, if it had Hollywood printed on
it, I was your girl. With all I had seen and
done, the people I knew, the celebrities I wished
I could blackmail, I was far too jaded to be
thrown by one little evaluation. Thus, you can
imagine my shock when instead of demanding a lock
of hair from the mummy in King Tut's tomb, my
boss revealed to me his truest desires. I bolted
right up in my seat, blinked and swallowed hard.
Did I…did I just hear him correctly? Did he
just ask for what I thought he asked
for?
I stared at him, curiously. I'd figured
out months ago that instead of the usual
razzle-dazzle, triple-latted, let's-do-lunch
executive I'd come to know and ignore, someone in
Human Resources had sent me an actual 'human
being'. At the time I thought wow, a human being
in Hollywood. Who knew! I mean, we'd always heard
about them outside of the industry, but inside,
well, it just never could be confirmed.
And now here one sat before me, smiling,
making plans. At first I was floored, then
momentarily inspired. But even six months of
working with this alien creature hadn't prepared
me for this. As he talked on about future goals,
I tried to agree, tried to rationalize things as
best I could. Maybe it could work, this getting
down to business stuff. Maybe I did have more to
learn about videos and DVD's. But then words like
"analysis", "spreadsheets" and "percentages"
began tripping from his lips, and my heart sank.
It was worse than I could have ever imagined.
The alien, it turned out, wanted…math.
