KNOCK KNOCK"Who the hell are you?"
"Just kidding. Come in."
Ha! Gotcha good! Just a harmless little prank to break the ice; or maybe I did it to make you, the nervous interviewee, even more uncomfortable. Well, if you're going to be my personal assistant, you better get used to a few curveballs, because they'll be coming in fast, low and inside.
"Let's go out back to the guest house. Do you want anything to drink? You sure? This is Marcello."
That's right, I named my goldfish Marcello. What better way to celebrate the most charismatic actor of European cinema than to name my pet after him? It also lets guests know that I'm a consummate cinephile. See? My kitchen is papered with Italian movie posters. I may owe my success to a clever, low-brow high school comedy, but I have my sights set higher; I'm an American neo-realist deconstructing the modern everyman's experience, his alienation, his angst, his oh-so-hilarious shortcomings. I was just at Cannes… Anyway, I'd introduce you to my cat, De Sica, but he's probably upstairs taking care of business in his litter box.
"Could I bother you to take your shoes off?"
I'm really sorry. My new wife, she's Asian, and she insists. Plus, this is where I do all my writing. It's my shrine, if you will. I think it's a nice tradition anyway, though it may seem impractical, since you'll only be in here for ten minutes, tops. Wow, those are really complicated shoes. How long is it going to take for you to take them off?
"Wow, those are really complicated shoes…"
"I know; I was wearing them to impress you." What did you mean by that? Was that a little self-deprecating humor? Turning my back-handed observation on itself… Listen guy, I'm the comedy writer, I'm the one who makes the jokes here. You're not scoring any points.
Let me take a look at your resume anyway, not that job qualifications are a concern, since your job will mostly consist of running my daily errands, like picking up Johnny Cat from the Ralphs that's a block away, and feeding (but not overfeeding) Marcello.
"Why are you interested in becoming a personal assistant?"
Tough question, and I really enjoy asking it. There's no right answer: if you are interested in becoming a personal assistant, you're probably a star-fucking idiot; if you're not, why the fuck would you be here? I guess the income could be motivation enough… and the opportunity to be part of the inner circle of an American auteur (me).
"I see that you worked at Universal. What did you do there?"
Post production? Checking print after print of summer a summer blockbuster? I like that you threw in a comparison to the Clockwork Orange indoctrination sequence. "Not Ludwig Von!" I love Kubrick. I'm a cinephile.
But wait! Hold on! That blockbuster you're complaining about: I co-wrote it. Good thing I asked you to take your shoes off, because you just put your foot in your mouth!
"You know that Jim and I worked on that?"
Oh. You did know. So you were just bringing that movie up to let me know that you knew that I wasn't above Hollywood hackwork, even though I fancy myself an auteur, and a cinephile. This is not going well… for you I mean…
"Well, if you do end up coming on board, your job is going to get pretty demanding pretty fast. I just came back from a couple festivals, and there's been a lot of Oscar talk surrounding the movie, I think it's all getting a little ridiculous…"
I sometimes wonder whether my humility comes across as arrogant…
"And on top of that, I'm going to start prepping my next film. And I just got married… So you'll be busy. When we start shooting, you'll be busier."
That's assuming that I'll hire you, which at this point seems rather unlikely.
"Well, it was nice to meet you. I'll be in touch once I've met with the other candidates."
Fuck. Now he needs to put those goddamn shoes back on.
