LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You feel better able to handle your people today — in fact, you may decide that the best thing for you to do is to let them wander off on their own while you take care of the stuff that’s better done alone.
First day on the job went without a hitch. Well, almost. I spent the morning filing and taking notes on Internet ads for bakeries (background research for a new account). Barry Lisduff called me into his office after a meeting about a new ad campaign for an adult contemporary radio station and I commented, “Just tell me they’re not going to shoot another commercial with old Phil Collins songs.”
Barry’s mouth dropped. Oops. Obviously that was the plan. “What’s wrong with Phil Collins?”
“Nothing, I guess. But all the people who still want to hear ‘Sussudio’ are already listening to the station. To all the other people watching the commercial, it comes off as an oldies station.”
“What would you suggest?” He wasn’t being defensive. In fact, he smiled and seemed genuinely interested.
“Focus on the DJs.”
“But they want to highlight the music.”
“With ‘Sussudio’?! Or something by Michael Bolton?! Or old Mariah Carey? People don’t need radio for that. There’s YouTube, iTunes, Sirius Radio. Songs on demand. No DJs. Or very little. It’s the DJs make radio different. Personally, I don’t like all the talk, but others do.”
Barry’s smile broadened. He nodded. He wanted more. “So what do we shoot?”
“Not the hokey stuff. You know, like DJs mugging with a pet monkey against a white background. That’s been done. Just film bits of the morning show. Two DJs laughing it up, raising a coffee mug, informally talking to each other and us looking on. Nothing cute. Just real. Fun.”
“Something to think about,” he said. That was the cue. Thank you very much. We’ll call you. (And, by that, we mean we won’t.) Still, I sensed he liked the fact I gave it a shot, thinking on my feet. A good start.
Walking out of his office, I nearly collided with Derrick. Hello, hitch.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” he asked. He made a face like I was a massive pile of feces. (Sorry. Really no other way to describe it.)
I offered an undaunted grin and announced, “I work here. I’m the new assistant.”
More horrid reaction. Like that massive pile of feces was lunch. “How the fuck did that happen? What moron hired you?”
“Talk to Barry,” I said as I deked him and headed back to my desk.
“Count on it.”
I tried not to worry, but I had a three-month probationary period. Something told me Derrick wouldn’t let up until I was shown the door. Or maybe a fourth floor window.
“I’M COMIN’ OVER.”
“NO, KEN. LEAVE IT.”
“YOU TALK TO JERRY? ABOUT THE POT?”
“YES.” IT WAS TOO QUICK & TOO QUIET. MY SISTER WAS A HORRIBLE LIAR.
“BULLSHIT. I’M COMIN’ OVER, SARA.”
“NO!” SHE SOUNDED MORE DESPERATE THAN EMPHATIC. AND IT WORRIED ME.
“YOU GONNA TALK TO HIM? I MEAN, TODAY?”
“YES.” QUICK & QUIET.
SURE, I’VE GOT LOTS OF MY OWN SHIT TO DEAL W/TODAY. MORE BUTT-UGLY, OVERPRICED CONDOS TO SEE. A MTG W/CARL(A) & MARTY OVER THE RENOS. I HAD TO LET SARA BE. FOR NOW.