Up & Out - Ariella Papa [98]
I call my first boss at ARCADE. He’s big at a women’s network now. I actually get put through by his assistant when I say who I am. I think my heart would break if I didn’t have any clout.
As a boss, he was okay. He definitely had some control issues, and now, when he hears my voice, he chuckles.
“Rebecky Cole…” He thought it was funny to call me Rebecky?!
“Hi, Jake.” When I got out of school and had my first job, I started out by calling him Mr. Sullivan and learned that didn’t fly.
“How are you?”
“I’m doing okay.”
“I read great things about Esme and I thought I taught that girl everything she knows.” I swallow, not able to mention that at twenty-seven, I’m actually a woman and I’ve taken responsibility for my own career up until now. So, I sort of laugh myself.
“Well, I was actually calling because I was wondering if you were hiring at all.”
“You’re not with Explore! anymore? I can’t believe Matt Hackett would let you leave.”
“Yeah, I got laid off.” Let him think whatever he wants about why. I hate pitching myself. “So I just thought I would give it a try.”
“Oh, Rebecky, it’s a tough time.” I think that even if he did offer me a job flat out I would have a “no Rebecky clause” written into my contract.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Well, we don’t have anything right now. Of course, you can send me your reel.” This is karma payback for the way I treated Paul Perry. I know that the reel is the kiss of never being called back. “Of course, if you wanted to pitch us some show ideas, I would love to take a look. Have you been developing anything?”
“Yes,” I lie. “But, nothing for your audience. Mostly kids’ stuff.”
“Well, if you can rework something or come up with a new concept, I’m always on the lookout. And I would do anything for my former PA.”
I love being reminded of my humble beginnings, but I guess this is the shit that’s par for the course when you are pounding the proverbial pavement.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Why don’t you give me a call in a couple of weeks or when you’ve fleshed out some ideas or even if you want to pitch your kids’ concepts. Maybe we can have lunch.”
“Okay, I will, thanks.”
Next I call Jennifer Juliano at Playtime Kids Network. She was on a list that Don gave me. I get her voice mail and I leave a stupid introductory message. I’m sure I sound like an asshole and all I really want to say is, “Please hire me, my severance runs out next week…please hire me.”
I work my way down the rest of the list, leaving either pathetic voice mails or making small talk with the live ones. No one knows of any jobs, but I wind up confirming “We should hang out soon” with a number of people who will probably never be able to hang out.
For the most part, no one gives me much hope about other jobs, although I do get more names of people to call who I have similar bleak conversations with.
Jennifer Juliano calls me back. I’m amazed that she would because she is the creative director at Playtime and you’d think she would get one of her people to do it. She sounds really young and nice.
“I have to admit, I’m a big fan of Esme. The market needed a character like her.”
“Thanks.”
“I wish she didn’t lose the glasses.”
“Me, too—that’s part of the reason I’m looking for a job.” Why did I say that? I know that means I sound like I’m not a team player. I listen to see if Jennifer picked up on my subversive tendencies, but she seems unfazed.
“I will definitely consider you for any jobs that come up over here. I would love to get your reel. Also, if you have any show ideas, send them over.”
“Yes, I’ve been working on a few things.” What have I been doing with my summer? Why haven’t I been writing the next show?
“Well, we skew very boy heavy. And, don’t quote me, but the more aggressive and gory and gross the better.