“It’s just for today,” he says. “I’m sure Dutch will do your scene tomorrow.”
“I’m not worried about it, Mi—”
“—or another scene,” he interrupts. “You know, I know sometimes they like to shoot scenes for a movie out of order and I didn’t want you to be concerned if the s
cene you did tomorrow was the one you were supposed to do today.”
I just look at him.
Someone pays this man money to do things. It’s incredible.
“Thanks, Mick,” I tell him. “You’ve put my mind at ease. I think I’ll be able to muddle through without undergoing too much psychological damage.”
One more thing about Mick is that he doesn’t understand sarcasm.
“Well, I certainly hope not,” he says. “Do you think that’s a possibility? I’m sure we could talk to Dutch and he could—”
“Mick,” I interrupt. “You’ve got to learn when people are joking. It’s becoming a problem.”
“Right,” he says. “So you’re going to be all right if your scene gets pushed to another day and you do a different scene tomorrow—not that that’s necessarily going to happen, but it is a possibility, and—”
“Bye, Mick,” I interrupt, and start gathering my things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”
Again with the thanks.
“You’re welcome,” I answer, not knowing what else to say.
“So, I’ll go ahead and tell Dutch that you’re all good to go and that we don’t need to worry about a thing,” he says as he slowly makes his way out of my trailer.
“You probably don’t have to tell him anything,” I tell Mick. “I think he probably assumes that everything’s going to be okay.”
“All right,” Mick says. “Should I even tell him that we talked or—”
“It’s really simple,” I interrupt. “Go back to doing whatever you were doing before you were doing this, and if Dutch asks you if he talked to me, tell him you talked to me. If, for some reason that would absolutely baffle me and anyone else within earshot, he asks if I’m going to be all right not doing today’s scene today, you can tell him that I am perfectly fine and that it is no trouble whatsoever. Got it?”
“…no trouble whatsoever,” he repeats. The jackass is actually writing this down.
“Good boy,” I tell him, and send him on his way.
Looking at the time, it’s probably a good thing they’re not going to try to squeeze my scene in today. I still have my radio interview to do and I’ve got just enough time to get there a little early and chat with the DJ before the show.
Talking to the DJs can do a great many things for your performance during the interview. You learn little things that are on the interviewer’s mind, so you can often prepare your response a little, or if you come across as friendly, an otherwise hostile interviewer—and you’d never believe how many of those a person gets—might soften a little and ease up during the interview itself.
It’s just a good idea.
I get to the radio station and walk up to the front desk. The woman sitting on the other side is chewing gum and tapping the eraser end of a pencil against her forehead as she looks over a half-complete crossword puzzle.
I clear my throat and she doesn’t look up.
“Excuse me,” I start.
“Hold on,” she says. “I’ve almost got it.”
“Almost got what?” I ask.
“Hold on,” she repeats.