Totally Unauthorized

A side of the film industry most people never see.

Why I lie.

Sometimes, when someone asks me what I do for a living, I make something up. Usually, it’s something boring, like data entry, telephone customer service, or prostitution.
I can usually get a feel for when I need to lie – but today while I was at  the gym I missed it, probably due to fatigue after having worked out.
I’ve seen the lady many times before, both in the locker room and on the gym floor, and she’s always seemed nice enough. Today, she waited until I was naked, then asked me what I did for a living, and due to oxygen deprivation after a swim I told her I worked set lighting.
She paused,  then asked me if there were any way I could get a script to Past Her Prime Starlet.
I tried to explain to her that PHPS would likely not even speak to us dirty toolbelt people, and probably wouldn’t even hit her brakes if she saw one of us in a crosswalk, so my attempting to get a script to her was futile at best and a fast track to the ‘don’t call her to work any more’ category at worst.
She just kept telling me I should help her out, and I kept trying to explain to her that she was, as they say, barking up the wrong tree.
Remind me next time someone asks to tell them I pull cans out of the garbage for a living.

Filed under: cranky, Non-Work

9 Responses

  1. Burns! says:

    Sure, but can you help me get a script to the guy at the recycling center?

  2. Chip Beckett says:

    And that’s why my friend Peter and I always say we’re janitors.

  3. John Krill says:

    Speaking of screen writing how are your efforts going?

  4. boskolives says:

    When I’m approached on a set by an apparent neighbor, relative, or friend of a wannabee film maker, one who won’t take “it’s not all sunglasses and autographs” as a warning, my fall back reply is either “I break into parked cars” or “I produce gay porn”. If these don’t work I resort to telling the truth, I’m a location sound mixer, and that usually will have them shrug their shoulders and walk away knowing that I can’t be of much help to them.

    http://www.boskolives.wordpress.com

  5. Dave2 says:

    And that’s why I never get specific as to what companies I work for. It always, always, always ends badly for me.

    Heck… remember when I was in L.A. and a group of us met up for dinner and bowling? I made the huge mistake of mentioning which company I was in town to meet with. I figure, what’s the big deal? We’re all blog-friends… there’s no business here! Well, it wasn’t even TWO HOURS after the dinner was over before I got an email from somebody wanting to know if I could give them a contact name at the studio I had been working with. TWO HOURS! And I work with the MERCHANDISING department.

    I guess you exploit whatever contacts you have in The Biz… no matter how remote. But TWO HOURS?!?

  6. geekhiker says:

    …but when I’m outside of L.A. and trying to flirt with a cute girl, oh, yeah, I tell them I still work in “the biz”. ;)

  7. JCW says:

    All too true. What I get most is “what is so and so like in person?”, as if so-and-so would give the time of day to the extras… we’re the lowest rung in the on-set food chain. Best I can say is so-and-so seems nice… I didn’t see him throw any fits.

    Usual best case scenario is they’ll smile or nod at you as you pass each other – worst is they’ll give you a dirty look for daring to make eye contact.

  8. JoePerrythePlatypus says:

    In a related note, whenever I’m on a local location, like, say Venice Beach, and somebody asks me what we’re shooting, I usually say a tampon or mayonnaise commercial. There are usually no follow-up questions after that.

  9. ironrailsironweights says:

    I tried to explain to her that PHPS would likely not even speak to us dirty toolbelt people, and probably wouldn’t even hit her brakes if she saw one of us in a crosswalk

    You’re wrong on the second count. Striking a pedestrian can result in significant damage to a vehicle, so PHPS surely would stop. Unless she was driving someone else’s car.

    Peter

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