"We don't have agents in Montana!!!"

This week I'm temping at The Weinstein Company, which is waaaay cooler than working at a financial office with suits and fancy people. It may not pay as well as other jobs, but the people here are cool and there is a TV in the front office that plays movie previews all day. I can practically taste the popcorn.

There is a "Procedures and Policies" booklet that I use to help me figure out how to transfer calls, restock the office fridge, and call for copy machine maintenance (all things I've had to do today). Inside there is a small note that says, "TWC/DIMENSION FILMS DOES NOT TAKE ANY UNSOLICITED MATERIAL. YOU MUST SUBMIT SCRIPTS THROUGH A LAWYER OR AN AGENT." Good thing I noticed this note because I've been gently then not-so-gently having to tell semi-delusional writers this all day. Poor things.

These people have been calling all day wanting to get their "original, never before told, real-life stories" turned into movies. While I applaud their ambition and gumption to wake up and be like, "I'm going to call the Weinstein's today and tell them about how awesome my project is," I question their understanding of the film industry when they keep me, a temporary receptionist, on the phone for five minutes trying to convince me that they're really on to something and could I please "just pass it along to Mr. Weinstein." because "I just know he would really love it."

First there was the mob wife who told me that although she "had no interest in being on that television show Mob Wives" because she didn't "approve of that type of thing," she had been married to a mobster and she had written a book and wanted to get it taken care of before she went into surgery the next day. It was just something she wanted to cross of her 'to do' list, apparently. Scrub the toilet. Water the plants. Get my manuscript turned into a major motion picture. I explained the whole "you need representation" thing to her, which angered her immediately and she asked for the address of the office. Envisioning what physical harm an angered mob wife could evoke, I quickly squeaked out something about being a temp, and maybe call back tomorrow?

This was the first call, but not the last.

Then there was the guy who was working on a documentary about homeless people in California. Before I was even able to get a word in, he had told me the tragic story about a young woman who didn't make it to her 15th birthday and how all he needed was four minutes and 21 seconds because he was just sure that if Mr. Weinstein saw the youtube trailer for his project he would be "totally into it." I listened to the guy and listened some more. I told him that whole thing about an agent, but then he started telling me more about this dead 14 year old so finally I just said, "I'm just a temp. Why don't you give me your contact information and I'll ask around." The dude was totally psyched by this, and in retrospect, I feel a little bad about it because, let's be real, I'm just a temp. The people at TWC are already annoyed with me. I'm not going to ask around.

Then Keith called from Billings, Montana. He was the best one yet. He spoke slowly and with an accent that sounded so close to the senior citizen population of South Dakota that I kind of wanted to stop him and say, "Grandpa?!" Anyway Keith had also written a book that he had apparently sent to the office a couple of weeks ago, but he hadn't heard back from them yet. "Has anyone read it, yet? What's going on with it?" he asked me. He spoke so slowly that  two whole movie previews played through on the TV screen to my right. I took a deep breath and asked him politely if it had been sent through an agent or lawyer.. yada yada.. and then he raised his voice and in a frustrated old-man tone told me that he had looked into it but "there just aren't any agents in the whole state of Montana!!" I believe him. Again I asked for his phone number to "see what I can do" and he had to ask a shrill-voiced sounding old lady in the background what their phone number was. She listed off the numbers, and I wanted to so desperately to stop her and say, "Grandma?!" At this point I had to keep the mouthpiece of the phone away from my mouth because I was getting the giggles and I was getting them fast! I don't even know how I ended that conversation, but I do know that after I hung up the phone, I looked up at an imaginary camera like in "The Office" and made that Jim Halpert face with the raised eyebrows because did that really just happen?

I don't know if I've been successfully able to fully convey the ridiculousness of these people and their requests. Maybe these are "had to have been there" types of situations. But God, I wish you WERE here because that shit was hilarious.