So outside of my office building they sometimes film movie or television scenes, and it’s all very glamorous and exciting. Well, at least the Kraft Foodservice table looks very glamorous, as do the trailers they set up along the street, which I’m sure are filled with very glamorous and exciting things and people. And this morning was no exception, as I was there to fill a void in the casting call.
Or so I thought.
As I was walking down the block towards my office, I found myself weaving in and out of various people doing various movie/tv/commercial-related things that looked super important and needed to be done in a hurry. Also, I walked underneath a ladder and panicked, because everyone knows that’s bad luck, and so then I re-walked under and then around it so as to un-do the bad luck and then pretend like it never happened in the first place.
Anyway, as I was panic-walking and re-walking, some guys were setting up lights and, though I had my headphones on quite loudly, I was sure that they were calling and waving to me to get my attention. Obviously they wanted to check the lighting on my alabaster, glistening skin. I mean, it’s only natural. Plus, they maybe needed extras who looked like hip New Yorkers in the background, but since they couldn’t find any, they were going to settle for me.
Also, I was 100% sure that I was going to be late for work because I needed to help them with the lighting, so I started to tuck my headphones into my bag and look around for a place to set down my coffee. What angle would be my best? Should I text my co-workers to let them know where I was in case something super-important came up at work that only I could deal with and they’d have to be all like “Oh, we have to go get Becky from ‘the set.’?” This was turning into a very dramatic and exciting day…in my mind. Which, to be fair, is where most of the drama in my life occurs anyway.
In a shocking turn of events, they weren’t talking to me at all. They were talking to some guy behind me who actually worked with them and was waiting for me to stop walking back and forth under the ladder so he could move it and set up some other lights. Whatever. I totally was almost in a movie/television show today, and when I re-tell this story to my grandchildren, that will be how it comes out. Also, it won’t matter because at that point I’ll be really old and maybe won’t be making any sense anyway, so they’ll definitely buy it.
- And then I’ll show them this picture of me as a youth and they’ll be like “Our grandma was hot but definitely had that girl next door thing going on, too. We can totally see it.”
Unfortunately, this was not the first time I thought I’d for sure be on television. Which is an interesting mistake to make about yourself more than once, especially considering that I’m above target audience age and also live in New Jersey with my cat. But, the inside of my mind can sometimes be a scary, magical place and so ours is not to ask why.
Anyway, the first time this happened was back in college when my best friend and I had a really cool tradition of going to Fajita-rita Monday’s at Chili’s. I know, right? We really were exceptionally cool. But when you’re in college, the fajita/margarita combo for $10 is enticing. Also, and inexplicably, we weren’t getting asked out a lot by guys willing to spring the $10 on us. It was a weird phenomenon experienced through most of our college days.
- If bangs were wrong, I didn’t want to be right. Also, no I’m not pregnant in this picture. It was a baggy thing I was trying. It obviously worked out really well.
So one night, we were happily sitting at our “usual” table (jealous yet?) and probably talking about something really important, like what was going to happen on “Ally McBeal” that night or why the guy with the really muscular back in my English class wasn’t asking me out. And just after bringing us the four plates of food (two were for the tortillas, relax) and our giant margaritas, the manager came over to our table.
Now this is where it gets interesting: without saying a word to each other, my friend and I both immediately thought “They want us to be in a commercial for Fajita-Rita Mondays.” Obviously. And so, as any two sane people would do, we immediately started to fix our hair and apply lip gloss so we’d really shine on camera.
Then this happened:
Manager: “Ladies, would you mind if we move you over there to that table? We have a four-top coming in and this is our only large table available.”
Us: Confused. You mean we’re not going to be on tv? “Uh…sure.”
And then we proceeded to move all of our plates and glasses and bags over to a super-small two-top. Granted, it’s a table for two, but we were eating for four, so this really cramped our style.
Me: “So was it just me or did you think…”
Friend: “-that we were going to be in a Chili’s commercial?”
Me: “Yes!!”
Friend: “Totally! That’s why I started to do my hair!”
And this is why we’re friends to this day. Also, Chili’s: call me!
Happy Monday, everyone!
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