Sit. SPEAK!

Suffering from an acute case of Stockholm Syndrome, I panicked at the blinking red light on my cell phone – an eerie demonic glow emanating from my purse indicating a missed call from one of three potential new employers…

I had come to identify with my current captors, knew exactly what was expected of me in order to sustain a regular feeding schedule and prevent psychological trauma, and had finally grown accustomed to the physical long-term bladder control required for staying on stage at all times and keeping my owners happy! 

So at the sight of the red light, I couldn’t help but cower at what fresh new hell might await me on the other end of the voice mail, what rolled-up newspaper awaited my puppy nose, what “rules” my new “family” might demand if they snapped a leash on me and eventually adopted me as their own…!

Eager to please as always though, I returned the call salivating like a Great Dane at the opportunity for continued employment, and hearing the voice of a Producer who actually hired me back in the nineties, I slobbered all over her in a desperate attempt to help her remember who I was.  She had 22 episodes of a Network series lined up which she dangled in front of me like a Milk-Bone; but refusing to hand over the show until I essentially rolled over, showed her my soft underbelly and agreed to take a meeting at Sony Pictures Studios, I drooled relentlessly while she checked her calendar for a free moment the following Tuesday.

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Whilst I vaguely recalled the general path to Culver City and the Overland Gate (where Cecilia (my car) had died twice due to an old battery); I mapped out to the best of my abilities the general direction we needed to go.  “Since we shared a bit of drama together there, I suspect you’ll know the way” I told Cecilia, as we headed confidently into traffic an hour and a half early.  (I’m a Capricorn, shoot me.)

And sure enough, familiar sites came to mind as we motored along.  Tooling down one street to the next, here a 7-Eleven convenience store, there another one I recognized a few blocks further, a third popping up from my olden days of always stopping for a Big Gulp of Diet Coke in the morning; clearly we were on the right path.  And making a right at the light which seemed so, well, right at the moment, Cecilia idled most satisfactorily pleased with herself as I read the sign above:

“Twentieth Century Fox”

Crap!

With another ten minutes or so ahead (felt like an hour), I eventually wheeled Cecilia into the Sony main gate; identification at the ready for the Security Check.  And with an “I’m-an-idiot-newbie-on-the-lot” orange high-lighted zigzag map in hand, I meandered on foot in the heat (lost again, until a kind maintenance crew took pity on me) towards the designated Barrymore building.  And passing Stage 30, I happily recalled the sense memory of spying a set being built for “Men in Black II” in 2002; the “he can do no wrong in my book” Mr. Will Smith’s luxury trailer parked just outside back then.

“What’s he like?” I had Ethel Mertzed a crew member who was taking a smoke break away from his construction team.

“Helluva nice guy!” the builder had smiled. 

So with renewed puppy-like joy at returning to a studio lot so often filled with Real Live Movie Stars, I traipsed over to meet with my potential new employer, only to horrifically discover that she wasn’t yet in the office and I was a solid half hour early…

Crap!

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With the meeting going as well as could be expected –- me presenting her with my most recent job line-up like a loyal Labrador bringing her master’s (mistresses’?) slippers -- she shook my paw appreciatively for fetching myself all the way to Culver City. 

“We did interview one other person” she spoke gently, “but let me discuss this with our First AD and hopefully I’ll get back to you by the end of the day” she smiled, Milk-Bone balanced precariously on the tip of my nose, leaving me hungry and somewhat cross-eyed.

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By late afternoon, the texts from friends who had rallied to my support were already flooding in, each one affectionately sniffing around to find out if I had booked the job; but as I was still in the process of chasing my tail I had nothing to offer by way of good news or bad. 

“It will be what it will be” I replied, adopting a Zen-esque attitude, focusing on nothing more in the moment than completing my previous blog post; my content kitty companion napping carefree by my side.

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Hearing the cell phone emit a “restricted” ring tone at 8:30pm, I knew it had to be my Federal Agent friend “Rose”, and answering with a casual “hey” I immediately asked if we might chat in fifteen minutes or so, as I was rapidly close to publishing a new entry on my blog.

“I guess I could call you back in fifteen minutes…” the Producer from my meeting at Sony suggested.

Crap!

Explaining that I only knew one person with a restricted caller I.D., I apologized profusely (slobbering once again), as she laughed at my antics and metaphorically patted me on the head approvingly.   

“I’m at a friend’s house, an Actor actually, who’s the only person I know with the same ring tone set-up!” she added apparently amused.  (Did my heightened olfactory senses perhaps detect a glass of wine on her breath over the phone?  We shall never know.) 

“So we’d like to offer you the series, if you’d be willing to take it” she continued pleasantly, as visions of squeaky chew toys danced in my head.

“I’m all yours!” I responded happily, finally bouncing the imaginary Milk-Bone joyously off my nose and clutching the treat eagerly between my teeth.

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Looking forward to learning new tricks, excited to meet my next “family”, but already missing my last master’s (mistresses’?) voice,

~Stockholm Syndrome Sheltered P