You all know who she is. You know her songs, and you know her name. She was an International mega star, and, after a brief stint in the tabloids, is now all over TV. Here is the story of how I wound up chatting with her in her kitchen at 11:30pm...
Some of my guardian angels at my former internships still look out for me, and occasionally send me job leads. I received a notice at 1PM that a celebrity and her Producer husband were looking for a personal assistant to manage their affairs and travel with them to England for a few months. Must love kids, must be accessible at random hours when they call from Europe, etc. A positive, "can-do" attitude is a must.
Hey, I thought. I've got a can-do attitude! That's me!
I sent them a personalized cover letter challenging them to call me at 5AM, or whatever insane time they wanted. I told them that I love to travel and have spent time in England before. I explained that I'd worked as a theme park performer and had a history of entertaining children, and that anyone who willingly dresses up as a tapdancing starfish is pretty much guaranteed to have a "can-do" attitude.
A man called me a few hours later, told me that Pop Star and Producer loved my cover letter, and asked me if I'd be willing to meet with the couple and discuss the job further. He said they needed someone right away. They were only interviewing 6 people, but could I please come that night after they were done filming. At 11:30pm. That same night.
Sure! No problem! Weird times? Can-do attitude!
At 11:20, Jay and I pull up to the classic "gate." Jay rolls his window down, and the silver intercom speaker next to him says "Can I help you?"
We identify ourselves, and, like Open Sesame, the massive gate glides silently open, disappearing into the manicured hedges.
We drive up a long driveway and see a gorgeous house- huge windows, oversized luxury door, ivy growing on the walls... this is the guest house.
The ACTUAL house is breathtaking. Everything I'd want to quickly get used to and take for granted.
Suddenly, a giant comes out of the front door- Security. He explains that they're interviewing another candidate- could I wait in the car?
No problem. Can-do!!! See??? CAN-DO!!!
After a few minutes, a confused-looking frumpish girl walks out, and the Giant waves me in.
I walk into their house, (which is amazing, by the way) and there they are- the same people whose photos I'd been googling earlier. Standing in sweat pants in their dazzlingly bright kitchen.
She looks beautiful, but tired. He looks frustrated and annoyed.
I've learned from meeting enough crazy rich people not to try to shake their hand unless they offer it first. He did, she didn't. She looked up to smile briefly and say hello, then became intently focused on her blackberry phone.
"You're married?" begins the Producer. "You don't want this job."
I guess the Giant told them my husband drove me...
Producer explains that their last two Assistants left because their spouses gave them ultimatums after the crazy hours started to affect their marriage.
Producer asks me what my husband will say when I tell him I'm going to England for 4 months.
I said, "He'll probably say I'm getting even at him for going to New York for 4 months."
I explain that we're used to separating for the Greater Good- that we love each other but we're very focused on our careers right now, and we understand the occasional need to... no one is listening.
Pop Star is totally engrossed in her blackberry at this point. She's pressing buttons on the phone, and her massive canary yellow diamond flashes laser-like sparkles into my retinas.
Producer asks me how long I've been married, then sighs when I tell him the answer.
Producer looks at my resume and asks me what I'm doing working for porn. It does not SAY porn on my resume, but he recognized the company's name, which tells me that he's probably OK with porn.
I explain that I got hired through a friend of a friend, and that I was grateful because it provided me with health insurance.
He asks how much I make each week, and how much he'd need to pay me for paying for COBRA.
He's also never heard of COBRA, and starts to look more tired as the Giant chimes in to explain it to him.
I tell him I'd just be thrilled to have a job that wouldn't make my mom cry.
Pop Star looks up and says, "Oh, your mom might cry over this one, too..."
We talk briefly about my resume, and he warns me that their Assistant will not have an easy job.
I tell him about bailing out mosquito-infested larvae-water from my boss's fountain, and scraping spider webs from her Doc Martins.
He's about to ask me something else when Pop Star thrusts her phone an inch away from his nose. The small LCD screen illuminates the bags under his eyes- this man is tired.
"Look at this," she says. "Number 10."
He says nothing, but she is unfazed.
"Number 10," she insists again. "'Cause they think I'm fuckin' amazing!"
She resumes her position, hunched over her phone, leaning against the marble countertops. A supernova of light radiates from her ring.
Producer sighs. "So, we're making calls tonight or tomorrow. Thanks for coming by so late."
They both shake my hand and wish me a good night.
I went home and dreamed about cross-Atlantic flights and running up marble staircases with tea for Pop Star and her friends. Changing Dior Diapers and running errands with limitless credit cards. In my dreams, the inexplicable numerous rabbits that live near London-Heathrow Airport gathered to congratulate me- I was on my way!
The next day, my phone didn't ring, and I wasn't surprised. The Dream Rabbits were wrong- Producer and Pop Star's minds were made up before I walked in. And, as much fun as the fun parts would've been, something in my gut tells me I may have dodged a bullet. I'm OK with this. And, in the fleeting instant it takes for the light from a canary yellow diamond to dazzle your eye, I got to imagine what it would be like to be part of that world.
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