A film crew recently spent the day at my place of employ shooting the pilot for what they hope will lead to a reality TV series about the company where I may not be employed much longer if I am foolish enough to get too up close and personal about this. Hm … today is my birthday. I’m going to live on the edge.
In anticipation of the invasion of award-winning documentarians, the star, Elsbeth, my boss, spent a day prepping with an acting coach. Stu, her co-star and husband, busted out a wide array of denim work shirts in similar shades of blue. The supporting player, The Company Gadfly, opened a Twitter account where he modestly refers to himself as “Potential Reality TV Star.” Out of the way, Snooki!
When the three-person film crew entered our office, my colleagues and I were not introduced to anyone, equating us with the trash receptacles. Last month, The Quiet Man was chosen to attend a meeting due to his being an industrial design genius. It was during this meeting that he made it very clear that he would not allow so much as a hangnail on his person to appear on camera.
The Quiet Man did allow his computer screen to be filmed, but The Company Gadfly has volunteered to play our genius, even though in reality he is incapable of drawing a square in Autocad accurately. I also heard that he has offered to claim he was the anonymous Navy Seal that shot Osama bin Laden through the head over the weekend should the government need to associate a face with that act of heroism. Between takes, he was on the Internet researching where his star might go on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. If they erect a urinal on that site, that could be a possibility.
The crew filmed Elsbeth behind closed doors. Eagerly anticipating his upcoming on camera face-time, The Company Gadfly hovered outside her door frequently peering through a crack.
Worn down, the crew finally allowed him entry. When the time came to film the scenes between Elsbeth and The Company Gadfly, who was assigned to enter her office and say, “Hello,” he asked:
The Company Gadfly: What’s my motivation?
The Camera Operator: My resisting the urge to beat you into the next century with my camera.
The Company Gadfly: Got it!
In preparation for his entry, The Company Gadfly, emitted a window rattling clearing of his throat that probably measured on the Richter scale. Following that, he sang “Figaro” eight times in Falsetto. He changed into four different suits from Sears’ Johnny Miller Collection and was then ready for his long shot.
After rehearsing the scene, the crew was ready to shoot. Unscripted, The Company Gadfly dropped the centerpiece of the story, a metal light fixture. It fell apart with a loud clang and pieces scattered. By the time shooting was finished, the crew was running more than an hour behind schedule. As they left, I overheard the camera operator, who was very concerned that they might not have enough coverage since The Company Gadfly repeatedly stuck his head in the frame, even during Elsbeth’s cutaways, growl:
The Camera Operator: Thank God for editing. I’m joining the NRA.
Elsbeth seemed drained by the entire experience, but unlike The Company Gadfly who is ready for many more close-ups and is now trying to gain entry into SAG, she only flubbed one line and sounded relatively natural. The Company Gadfly, on the other hand, well … See for yourself how he fared. He’s the one standing screen left.