When you're working in house at a production, you see a lot of producers - freelance and in house.
A lot of them are women and of them about 60% can be real fuckers. No idea why. But when they're bad, they will make your life hell for no reason.
Whilst working at one company for a few years a girl came to work with us. She came straight from staking shelves in Sainsbury's to working with us as a receptionist. Over the years she got to become the bosses P.A, who was no easy cookie either, firm but fair. Her P.A, was neither firm, nor fair. Just a bitch, laying havoc where ever she went. She loved the parties, celebrities, being the bosses pet and mostly - the coke.
Needless to say we butted heads a few times. She tried to order me around, I reminded her she was a bitch. We didn't get along, apart from when there was a party and she was drunk or coked up.
Another year past and she became a producer. I left and started doing freelance work.
One day a director gives me a call.
'You around for a job?'
'Of course I am' I replied as I loved working with him.
'Really? 'C' said you were working on something else...'
Bitch I thought, how many other times had she done this.
'Well we're doing a promo abroad, I want you to come.'
So I hoped on a plane and ended up on a very nice five day shoot. At the end of it we had a big party, it got out of hand and towards the end of the night my best friend walks up to me.
'So how about it?' she asks me.
'How about what?' I reply, trying to find anyway past the obvious question.
'We go to my room?'
'Don't you have a boyfriend?' I ask, to which she just shrugged.
Luckily the director came and rescued me at that moment and I had a few more drinks before heading upstairs and thankfully alone.
The next morning we all fancied heading to the beach before the flight, so a few of us got into a car.
'Where's 'C'?' another producer asked. 'Go find her, she wanted to come.'
Being the youngest I dutifully went back into the hotel, up to her room and knocked. Nothing. Down to the breakfast room. Nothing. Reception, called her room. Nothing. One of the band came down.
'You seen 'C'?'
'Not since last night, she headed up to the drummers room.'
My eyes lit up. The drummer. The ugliest man in the band. Amazing. So I gleefully headed up to his room, knocking on the door, which he opened after a few minutes.
'Is 'C' there?' to which he simply smiled back. 'Good Night?' He nodded.
She quickly walked out, past us both, not looking back. I hurried after her into the lift. She stared straight ahead. I smiled, knowing she could see my reflection in the mirror.
'Nothing happened.' She snapped to me. I simply nodded. 'I wouldn't cheat on my boyfriend you know.'
'Sure.' I replied. 'That's what you said to me last night.'
She retorted to giving me the evil eye.
We went to the beach, jumped on the plane back and headed home. At the airport the lead singer turned over to me. 'Drummer says 'C' is a shit lay.'
I guess it's the small things that make me smile and if she reads this ever - Congratulations on your marriage last week. He's a lucky man.
