A bump in the night woke my mom up at 4 AM. She called to me from the other room that there was someone on the patio. Throwing on my robe, I ran out of my bedroom to find...nothing. Darkness. Was the bump a prankster, a drunk, plumbing? I was up an hour ahead of my alarm with all the lights on in the house. I sat at the dining room table drifting into that gray nether region of sleep and thoughts and memories. A person from the past popped into my mind. I could see them clearly. It was Mr. VIP.
Four years go I was at a VIP's mansion to pitch a movie. I've written about this before but with less awareness. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. I hadn't thought about VIP in a while. He kept us waiting for the meeting at his mansion. He wasn't even there for the meeting he wanted at his place, didn't offer us anything to drink or eat, and then had his chef come in to fix himself a vegan burger so could eat it in front of me while I pitched. Four yrs later I'm thinking about that and it's just registering: were those were alpha male power moves? Was that in a MBA book somewhere about 'taking charge and swinging your D?' At the time, I was so nervous that it didn't even think about it. He insisted on the meeting - which involved several other ppl- being at his mansion where there was no parking. I did basic google map research so I knew this and walked to the address. Then we were supposed to wait at the gate but I arrived early and right as the dogwalker was leaving so I just smiled, nodded, and strolled into the kitchen. LA ppl really do live rich and then have these huge blindspots where strangers can just walk into their mansion if they time things out right. If this was an NYC mansion, there would be security guards, a check-in kiosk, and snipers on the roof.
I sat there and waited for other ppl to arrive. Each meeting attendee asked 'wait, how did you get in here...and where did you park?' When the VIP arrived he jokingly yelled at me 'how did you get in here?' And then he wondered if my car was blocking his driveway? Then he had his chef fix only him a vegan meal while six other ppl waited with our dusty-ass, non-mansion owning throats. I was running the pitch through my head again and again so I didn't notice...that much. I did crack a joke that I too would love a burger or something the chef could whip up. Dead-ass silence. His chef glared at me like I asked if I could sip wine from his wife's belly button. I tugged at my collar like a Catskills comedian bombing in mid-set...'rough crowd.' The mood was tense which was strange b/c he was 30 min late to meeting at his own house due to his private yoga class. Isn't the point of yoga to be loose and flowing? Doesn't it make you want to smile or glow? Open heart...open bar...open burgers? Maybe this was MBA alpha yoga where you punch your chest with your fists and establish dominance by pissing in your corner.
Anyway, none of my jokes worked. Not even a smile while he ate his vegan burger and aligned his chakra. At the end of the pitch he was like 'okay...good.' I walked out the way I came...like a ghost. As I exited I noted the huge oil paintings and rows of awards. A day later I got the call that he liked it and was passing me up the ladder to the SVP at a studio. A few months the VIP was #metoo'ed and all his connections to the industry were severed. Suddenly it was like he never existed.
This morning I'm thinking about that. I wonder if VIP is still going to yoga class, eating vegan burgers, and holding imaginary meetings in his mansion where there is no parking, drinks, or jokes. I wonder about all the women dazzled by his wealth and possibly damaged by his actions. I wonder if he considered that behavior alpha male energy too. I wonder if VIP has had a change of heart. Or maybe he's just plotting his revenge like so many other exiled kings in their mansions with their personal chefs. Live by the alpha...die by the alpha.
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