A Year Of Living Stupidly

30. Line 2

Three(a), Two, No One.

It's an internal line. Thank God it isn't 4.

"Film Operations," I announce, struck by how odd that greeting sounds.

"Can you attend a meeting in my office?" The HR Witch asks.

"Sure. When?"

"Are you available now?"

"I'll be right up." I dust myself off as much as I can. "Hold down the fort," I tell TSA. "They need me up in HR."

The atmosphere in the office relaxes at five o'clock. The pace slows to a manageable clip, and conversations tone down into cocktail level. As the sun sets, the fluorescent and incandescent lights blend into one semi-pleasing hue.

I circle the hall once to stretch my legs. As I pass the editing suites and offices, I'm reminded what a great group of friends I have become part of.

It's not only who you know. It's also what you contribute to the who-you-know. My circle of friends began as a modest number of folks, swelled up to unmanageable proportions, and then leveled off. Over the years, we stay in contact. We socialize and work together as often as possible.

The circle has an ever-evolving life all its own. It expands, gaining a member by a new association. Then it contracts, losing someone to a brilliant success or a brilliant crash and burn. But there is one constant: Those who support and contribute to the circle reap the benefits of membership. Those who only take from the circle may gain for a time, but ultimately, they fade away.

Contributions to the circle can take the simplest form: A phone call when you need nothing; picking up a round at happy hour; a holiday card. Anything that shows how you give. It doesn't take long to weed out the takers. The circle's members stay cordial, but no one helps the taker get what they came for.

The benefits to active members are invaluable: A recommendation for a job; free talent on your latest project when you can't afford more than pizza and beer; and then that paying gig when one of us gets a project financed.

But the biggest single benefit in the viper-infested tar pit of wretched excess and unbridled greed, where ego rises above all and spirit gets pulverized beyond recognition—you are not alone. How lucky I am to enjoy the safety of the circle. I ought to give more. These people have my back.

"Ready for this day to be over?" I ask New-New Girl as I pass.

"An hour ago."

I take the long way to the HR Witch's office to avoid 4. No sense in stirring that pot. Ambient music wafts out of the darkroom in the art department. Needs a saxophone.

"Knock, knock," I say when I reach the Witch's office.

"Come in."

I push open her door to find New Boss in one of her guest chairs. A short stack of papers and two envelopes lay in the center of her desk. Fuck. There is only one item on this meeting's agenda. The Witch closes the door behind me.

"Please have a seat."

I remain standing, my eyes darting between her and New Boss. Christ—somebody say something. If they don't know where to start, I do.

"Is there any way I can talk my way out of this?" I ask. New Boss looks like he'd run over a puppy.

"I'm so sorry."

The Witch starts in with the script. "The company feels..." I wave her off.

"Don't. The 'company' is incapable of feeling." I turn to New Boss. "Can I ask one favor?"