And as far as a crucial contact at my New Better-Paying Top-Secret Job is concerned, inhaling disgustingly pungent hair-coloring chemicals for two and a half hours rates a couple of notches above spending five minutes with me.
I call up Lorraine and plead with her voice mail in my best saccharine tones, whining how I desperately need her help and advice on my latest assignment. Lorraine and I play phone tag for a few more days. Phone tag devolves into email hide and seek.
“Please please please I just need 45 minutes of your time for you to explain everything I need since you have done this job for ten years and I have done it for three days!” my email wants to beg at her. The editor in me realizes she will hit DELETE once the ugly words (“45 minutes”) hit her retinas.
I finally settle on 5 minutes. It is a lie. I need 45 minutes to pick her brain.
I hit SEND.
The email comes back the next evening.
“Happy to meet with you! Does Wednesday at 7:19 AM work, or Thursday at 2:07 PM, or we could grab a quick coffee Friday morning at 10:43 AM.”
Jackpot! I am free on Friday.
“Yes, yes, yes, thank you so much for finally agreeing to meet with me, oh God you don’t have any idea how much this helps me, Friday is perfect, heck I will buy your coffee!! and pancakes!! Thank you!!” says my uncensored brain.
The (tiny) speck of my brain where restraint lives swoops in like a pushy teenage girl trying to score the front row by shoving wannabes out of the way at a Justin Bieber concert.
“Fri works” intelligent brain speck types.
Hours later, I receive yet another email from Lorraine.
“MOV, sorry to do this to you, but I might have a hair appointment on Friday morning. I will double-check and get back to you. The next day I am available after that is Feb 16, 2012. Crazy busy!”
I want to reach my hands though the computer wires and shake her by the long-blond-cascading-Vidal-Sassoon hair. I want to say, “Your hair already looks perfect, what the heck is your problem, are you saying that getting your hair done is more important than meeting up with me?!”
Then I pause to reflect:
- March 12, 2000. Wedding time pushed back from brunch to early evening to accommodate my hair-stylist Robert’s schedule.
- August 24, 1996. Job interview with airline postponed a week due to Robert canceling on me (pneumonia).
- December 1, 2003. Hair appointment moved up a month to accommodate Robert (my new baby was born just three days later).
- September 21, 1992. Birthday party date changed due to Robert’s schedule being full already.
“Lorraine, no worries. I completely understand.”