Day 3: Meeting Greg

With the divorce finalized and the truth still smarting, I felt as if I was the most clearheaded I'd ever been. That was both true and not-true; anger can make you feel things more acutely, but can also distort your perception about what should be done about them.

So I got it in my head to burn bridges. I wanted to be rid of every connection I had to my sniveling, mortally wounded little group of blood relatives. I would jump ship, and ride some rotting vessel to the shore.

My plan was ultimately to grab onto the fastest moving train and let it take me far far away, whether that train was a career, a lover, a hobby, a family, or anything in between. I was in a place to start charging after all of the above if I wanted to, but I really didn't care which. I was tired of treading against the waterfall; I wanted to give up and let it carry me to my doom.

And unlucky me, several of the above more or less landed in my lap at once.

...

Let's see. Mark and Jonathan take it black, Manny with cream, Beth with skim and Equal, Barb with non-dairy, Brad and Deb with skim and sugar. Mark, Jonathan, Manny, Beth, Barb, Brad, Deb... wasn't there someone else? Mark, Jon, Manny, Beth --- oh, Luiz! And Luiz takes---

"What's your name?"

An imagined shattering sound as my inane thoughts are interrupted.

Pause.

"Hey there, what's your name?"

I didn't turn around. I wasn't really feeling friendly. Whoever wanted to introduce themselves to my ponytail was probably a loser. This coffee maker was my only friend.

"Excuse me..."

Great, tenacity. Love it. "What?" I asked, pretending not to have heard all along.

"Haha, hi, I'm Greg. What's your name?" He was a short-ish, late 20's-ish guy, tawny-colored curly hair. He was dressed nicely; it was hard to tell which department he worked for.

"Hi, Greg, I'm Mandy." I gave him the standard firm handshake for good measure.

"Wow, strong handshake." No kidding. "What do you do around here?" he gestured widely at the break room. He was probably an actor; something about the way he kept looking around made me think he was used to having an audience.

"Mostly this," I said, pointing to the coffee machine.

"Ah. Mark mentioned there was a new PA. How are you liking things so far?

I really didn't want to discuss my feelings with this guy. It was starting to seem like he had just come in here to jerk me around. "It's alright. Pretty busy I guess, with so many things going on at once."

"Tell me about it! I feel like I never get any time at all between stage calls." So he was an actor. And by the look of things he expected me to be impressed.

"Yeah. I'd better get a move on with this coffee," I replied, reaching in front of us both to grab the coffee pot again. Please go away, dude.

"I see! Well, very nice to meet you, Mandy," Greg said, and retreated from the break room.

"You too," I said, already facing the other direction. I wanted to get this coffee over with. It was only part of my plan to suck up to the crew and eventually get promoted out of coffee duty, but it would be a nice bonus when they stopped sneering at me like they'd figured out something I hadn't.

But maybe what I hadn't figured out yet was ego. Sure as hell I hadn't been brought up to think of myself first. There were no other TV studios in town here, so these guys were the big fish in the small pond - cast and crew no exception. There were always things going on, but usually it was because John Q. contracted the studio to film a commercial for his tire shop, or someone from the filmmaking class wanted to shoot an experimental music video. I knew their product library very well -- I'd soaked it up from living in this town so many years. The view behind the curtain was a filthy warehouse in the shipping district.

Couldn't let them see me being so cynical, though. This was all a paradise of distraction compared to the sulfuric hell of the Wallace family downfall. I can't afford to think about that, even for a second.

Armed with a tray full of coffee cups, I made my way out onto the studio floor.

...

I was getting my jacket on and contemplating what I was going to fix a single serving of for dinner, when one of the lighting techs, Mark, came down the hall.

"Hey, Mandy, hold up?"

"Uh, yep?"

"Hey, so I know you haven't met everyone yet, but a few of us were gonna go grab some dinner down the street. You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

"Oh, um..." Shit. This was exactly the kind of thing I was terrible at - chit-chatting and talking shop. But I was hungry... and this probably needed happen sooner or later. "...Yeah, sure, ok."

"Hey, great. I think we're gonna meet out by the main entrance. I gotta grab my stuff -- see you outside!"

Whew. It was moments like these that I got to experience the rare feeling of seeing myself from two very different points of view. On the one hand, I was terrified to go. What if they didn't like me? What if I made some huge faux pas, and really embarrassed myself? What if they expected me to know all kinds of movie trivia and broadcasting lingo? On the other hand, I hated myself for that fear. What an idiot I was to second guess myself in front of these people, whose lives were as deep as puddles.

All of these feelings ran through me in an instant, like an electric current. I don't know if this is the true answer or not, but in my heart I believe that it's that current that the change comes from. Everything I've just described I've heard Eva describe in one way or another -- feeling overwhelmed and intimidated one second, then hostile and elitist the next. I used to think it was those second set of feelings that took a person over and caused the change, but there's more to it than that. There's fear in the change, and loneliness -- it's more a combination of the two points of view than anything else. Then something goes wrong, or maybe the feelings get too strong a hold of a person, but that's when the change starts happening.

At any rate, I figured I would tag along and see what I could see.

As I got outside, a group of 10 or so people were standing around, chatting, and rocking back on their heels. Most of what I caught had to do with work -- how so and so forgot their lines, or the producer was being too tough with the schedule, basic stuff. It seems this group both worked and played together, as the rest of the conversation centered around re-telling stories of parties they'd gone to together, movies they'd seen, games they'd played. Nice to know, on the one hand, that if I made it into this group, my social life would be one less thing I'd have to worry about.

"Hey, Mandy, glad you could join us." The guy from the breakroom. Apparently he was the last person we were waiting on, since the group started walking as soon as he stepped out of the door.

Was it Gary? Rob? Craig? I couldn't remember for the life of me. "Hi... What was your name again?" Smooth, real smooth.

"It's Greg. No worries. I imagine that's a lot of new faces to have to keep track of." His tone was extremely platonic.

"And coffee orders," I offered up tentatively. This was going to be a long night.

"Indeed!" Greg responded with a flourish. "What did you do before this?"

"I... was a student," I said, which was partially true. "Down at Monroe."

"Oh, that's where I first started taking acting lessons. Great place. Did you major in film, or...?"

"English, actually, but I took a couple of classes in film studies."

"Oh great, I know Mark did the film studies program there a few years ago."

"That's how I first met Mark, actually, when he substituted for a couple of weeks last semester."

"Right, I remember a few months ago we were short on lighting techs!"

By now we were approaching the restaurant - Evan's Saloon. Looked like a nice enough place, but it was pretty dead inside. Mark held the door for us as we all filed in. So far the conversation had gone well enough, but I didn't want to get sequestered in chit-chat all night long with the same person. A few clusters of people had been laughing and joking with each other -- that sounded like more fun than chatting with Greg.

"So, you went to college here. Are you originally from this area?" Greg asked, as he pulled a seat out for me. Guess I would be stuck with him all night after all.

"Not exactly - I'm from Charlotte."

"Ah, I'm very familiar with Charlotte. How about family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Um, yes." I started a little at the question; hopefully he hadn't noticed. "I have a younger brother and sister." It was feeling more and more like Greg felt sorry for me that I didn't know anyone. Perhaps interviewing me was his good deed for the day, in order to make me feel like more of a part of the conversation.

"How about you?" I asked, for a change of pace.

"Nope, I'm an only child. I didn't grow up here, though; my family is originally from Canada." Greg seemed proud of this fact.

I knew nothing of Canada, however. "Interesting."

The rest of dinner pretty much followed suit. Although I couldn't really read Greg that well, my overall opinion of him was that he was proud, and a bit of a jerk because of it. He had told me about the skiing trips his family used to take up in Canada, and how he recently purchased the building his apartment had been in. In turn, I spilled my unclassified guts, telling him about what I studied in college, what my hobbies were, and the general climate of Charlotte. He mentioned he was just about to start a new documentary project next week that was going to take up a lot of his time, so at least I wouldn't have to worry about seeing a lot of him during the day.

Could be worse.

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