Spooning (7 page)

A
week later, I had yet to cash in on my multimillion dollar idea, but the mere lightning bolt of inspiration put me in the mood to rewrite my résumé a few days later. New York City rent would not allow for slacking off on the job hunt. Truth be told, I wasn't actually rewriting my résumé, but rather playing around with the format. Center the name? Ten point or twelve point font? To bullet or not to bullet? Bold the job title? Yes, “Camp Counselor” looked much better in bold print. How many tenths could I add to my grade point average without inflating it to a questionable level? After the six weeks of unemployment, I decided I would take any job thrown my way.

It wasn't that I hadn't been actively searching for a job. In fact, I'd been working every angle. First, I went the college alumni route, but that didn't really pan out. One thirty-some- thing alum had informed me that she received an average of thirty phone calls a month from desperate recent grads. She estimated that I was lucky caller number one thousand in the current calendar year. In any event, she sounded hassled. (I could guess that her next “to-do” in her Palm Pilot would be to call the university and tell them to take her off the alumni phone distribution list.) She seemed to be taking her exasperation out on me because first she said that I had a “lack of work experience,” and then she informed me that I didn't come off as “professional enough” on the phone! Rewind. First of all, don't give me shit about the work experience, lady—I just graduated. And second, I might not be CEO material, but I was sure as hell fit to be an “executive assistant.” Obviously, she wasn't down with collegiate nepotism and therefore didn't
help me. It was clear that I needed a totally different approach to the rat race.

My next tactic was much more successful and ultimately helped me land my first real interview at a television show called
Sunshine & Sensibility. Sunshine & Sensibility
was a daily nationally syndicated show seen by millions upon millions of viewers who consisted mostly of stay-at-home moms. It was a cross between a
Romper Room
episode and an Emma Thompson movie. A style show for the home entertainers. I was learning that friends of family can be great job connections, and that friends of family friends can be helpful too! Thank you Macie's dad, and thank you Macie's next-door neighbor's dad's coworker's sister.

“The neighbors on the right,” emphasized Macie. “Not the ones on the left—they let their dog do his business all over our lawn, which drives my father crazy. But the MacCombers are wonderful. We share a volleyball net with them in the summer, and Mrs. MacComber lets my mother cut her gorgeous flowers anytime she wants.” Point being that the MacCombers were generous people. I realized just how generous when Mr. MacComber called on his coworker's sister who worked at
Sunshine & Sensibility
. Mr. MacComber, without meeting me, went out on a limb and asked this kind woman to arrange an interview with human resources for me. Ta da! I had an interview at
Sunshine & Sensibility
with the head of HR at the network the very next day.

“
C
harlotte Brown, nice to meet you,” gushed the HR woman. “You come so highly recommended from Ms. Jones” (aka, Macie's next-door neighbor's dad's coworker's sister). “You also
have a well-rounded academic background. But tell me about your work experience.”

Gulp. Obviously my inflated grade point average hadn't overwhelmed her enough to skip the rest of my résumé. Which illustrious work experience should I attempt to elaborate on? Sailing instructor, babysitter supreme, or house cleaner (“Good money under the table,” my mother had rationalized). Think positively! Think positively! I glanced around at all the useless certificates, not diplomas, on the walls documenting the special HR conferences that she had participated in, hoping to find some inspiration.

“Now Jane—Jane Dough that is,” she paused to make sure I knew who Jane was. Jane deserved a single name like Cher. Jane Dough was the quintessential homemaker-homemaker turned gazillionaire. She had taken the stay-at-home woman's endless house chores and had turned them into “domestic arts.” The rubber gloves with the diamond band … think Jane.

“Jane needs a new production assistant. Now, the person who takes on this role of production assistant will have many complex duties. She will have to organize the extensive tape library.” I nodded. Little did they know that I could recite the alphabet forward and backward.

“She will need to make packets each day for the powers that be containing articles relating to our show and the network. Jane likes to read the latest about the industry first thing in the morning. The production assistant will also transcribe and log tapes from the shoots, file scripts and any contact information pertaining to guests on the show, and go on runs for any materials that we might need.” Bonus! Time out of the office.

“She will aid the senior producers and the director for each and every shoot, especially when it comes to scheduling— arranging everything from arrival times to the lunch breaks for the crew, hair and makeup for Jane, the minutes allotted for equipment setup and breakdown, and such. And Jane likes it all printed on a Word document using Helvetica font.”

“She will have to digitize the tapes for editing too,” she continued. Digitize, what?

“Charlotte,” she paused. “I'm just not sure you are tough enough. You seem like such a sweet and genuine person, but Jane can be, well she's demanding. She has the highest standards. She won't take no for an answer. I'm just not sure you can get the answers she wants and she expects….” her voice dwindled as she looked down at my Payless loafers. What the hell did my choice in shoes have to do with getting this job? I crossed my legs and tucked my sturdily clad feet under the chair.

“617–555–1630,” I said.

“Excuse me?” She replied with a confused look on her face.

“617–555–1630,” I rattled off the number with the perfection of a well-trained kindergartener. “My parents' home phone number. Call them and ask them if I am tough and if I can argue to get my way. My mother always said that I would be a worthy opponent if God ever came out of the sky and told me no.” And suddenly, the HR woman smiled.

I got the PA position. “PA” sounds so official, just as “administrative assistant” is now chic-ed down to “admin” (note the lowercase
a
). Why can't people just call it like it is? An admin is a secretary; yes, a secretary. Anybody who does not recognize this fact is fooling his or herself. Now a “PA” (note the capital letters!) is a production assistant, but in New
York reality PA stands for “PissAnt.” At least secretaries have their own official day, Secretary Appreciation Day. Not so with PAs. I would soon find that my hell was called logging. Basically, I would spend my days grabbing videotapes from the library, cueing them up to particular random snippets, then rewinding, and then finally returning them to the library. Log, baby, log! But my name would be in the credits and that was all I needed to prove my worth to my grandparents.

Sunshine & Sensibility
had a devoted following like few other shows. The host, Jane Dough, was not only the personality, she was also the creator and the CEO. As a true entertainer, she was also a moody diva—hence her nickname, “the Diva.” Let's just say that “sunshine” did not radiate from her cheerful ass. Yet, she was sensible. How else would she become the poster woman for housewives around the world? She guided her cultlike audience through crafty yet chic household ideas with grace and ease. She tirelessly marketed herself in magazines, interviews, and board meetings with confidence and style, and to top it all off, she was as tough as a bull. Basically, the Diva was the perfect recipe for success.

Feeling as if I had been anointed by Jane Dough herself, I walked home that afternoon and into our second official Cooking Club meeting with my head held high. Five minutes later, in walked Wade (always early), and five minutes after that, Sage (always tardy).

“So … I got a job,” I happened to mention. Immediately, the room went into an uproar.

“Congratulations, Charlie!”

“Here, here! Way to go.” They hadn't even asked where.

“I'm going to be a PA at
Sunshine & Sensibility
.” A hush enveloped the room.

“J. Lo religiously watches that show,” Tara reminded everyone. I nodded.

“So, can you snag me some of that chic wrapping paper she always uses?” Syd asked. “Oh wait, the other day I saw her doing a segment on this fancy satin ribbon, could you get a couple yards of that?”

T
he Cooking Club. God, it sounded so official. Well, so far it was proving to be anything but. You could call us the Bitch Buddies, the Whining Women, the Catty Cathys, the Chaotic Chefs. Those names seemed more fitting. Still, we had all tried to step up to the challenge. We all squealed as we revealed our dishes.

I had put a spin on my grilled cheeses by using garlic butter and roasting slices of tomatoes before placing them inside of the cheese envelope; Tara had made quesadillas; Syd had nuked some “baked” potatoes and diced some toppings (including a finger dish full of raisins); Sage had made banana bread out of her rotten bananas; and Wade had invented a nine-layer dip, an alternative to the popular seven-layer dip.

“Quesadillas?” Macie looked at Tara questioningly.

“You got some problem with my ethnic dish?” Tara challenged.

“No, but did you put anything inside besides cheese? And speaking of cheese, Charlie, I hope you wrote down every step of your complex recipe.”

“Hey! I used cookie cutters to create these uniquely shaped finger foods! I call them Toasted Cheese Fingerettes.” I had cut the toasted cheese sandwiches into the shapes of hearts and
stars using the cutters I'd found at D'Agostino. I would forever stand by this signature dish. Watch out, Jane Dough!

“Sounds dirty. Yes, you brought the good ole Brown touch to this Cooking Club soirée,” Tara joked. But we lost all spitefulness and began to ohh and ahh when Macie pulled out her delectable Ever So Creamy Cheesecake. To give her credit, she was the only one who had gone above and beyond, giving our Cooking Club an ounce (note the use of cooking terminology) of legitimacy.

“I've never seen so many forms of cheese in one room,” moaned Skinny Sage. “Cheese for the cheese on our thighs,” she muttered. But that notion was soon an afterthought as we all (at least five of us) dipped in eagerly. We hadn't taken to the cooking part enough yet, but we sure were good on the eating part.

“Hey, is cream cheese really a cheese?” asked Syd.

“Does it matter?” Tara responded with her mouth full.

“Just wondering,” paused Syd. “I mean it is in the dairy aisle at the supermarket, but it doesn't go through the aging process that most cheeses do to get to moldy perfection.”

“Syd, I truly appreciate your efforts to cultivate your culinary expertise!” applauded Wade. “We might actually get somewhere with this group.” She beamed like a proud soccer mom.

After a quick toast, we all gathered around the coffee table munching away, and our conversation instantly went from sugar to spice. Yep, in less than ten minutes we managed to change the topic from food to men.

“So has he called?” baited Tara. She knew the answer but was playing pop psychologist. She knew it was better to get me talking versus stewing in my own boy wasteland.

“No. I did see him the other night though,” I replied.

“Just see him?” Tara questioned.

“Well, I saw an awful lot of him,” I smiled.

“So have you had a date yet?” Wade asked. “Or even a sober hookup?” Macie gasped at Wade's bluntness.

“Wade!”

“Sorry, I guess I just want to make sure Charlie isn't sugar- coating this,” she mumbled as she took a spoonful of Macie's cheesecake.

“It's good. I mean we've hooked up twice now—”

“How romantic,” gushed Sage.

“Phone calls?” Tara quizzed.

“No—at least not that I know of. Is my outgoing message friendly enough? Maybe my voice is too high and childlike.” The girls nodded yes then shook their heads no in response. “He's sweet and cute, but just a tad, well, guarded I guess.” I knew I was backtracking so I switched gears.