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A big part of being a Writers’ Assistant is having a good Writers’ PA. I know this sounds like a simple job – photocopying scripts, ordering office supplies, grocery shopping, picking up lunch (and surfing the internet when not doing the aforementioned)… but it’s not for everybody.
It’s a typical Thursday at work. I just finished proofing the final pages of this week’s script, and am on my way to hand it off to the PA, Will, who is going to photocopy it 140 times over. It’s late, about 11 p.m., so the office is pretty empty -- except for the two of us… (No, this is not going where you think it’s going; that was last week, remember?) I see Will sitting at his desk, an Office Depot catalogue covering his face. “Will?” I say. No answer. Hmm. Maybe he’s listening to his iPod again. I look around – only to see it laying on his desk. There goes that theory. “Will?” I say again. Still nothing. I peek over the Office Depot catalogue – to see Will sleeping. Are you kidding me? (And, more importantly, how did the catalogue not fall out of his hands? I notice he has it propped on the armrests of his chair. Clever. Very clever.) I feel bad waking him up – I know not all the new PAs are used to the long hours yet. But, then again, it is his job to photocopy the script… I put the script in the copier… but I shouldn’t have to do his job for him while I’ve busted my ass the last 14 hours, I think to myself. Then again, I feel bad waking him up… though better I do it than the line producer who keeps meandering from the office to the set and back again. As the Xerox machine warms up, I gently nudge the sleeping PA. “Will.” “Yeah, twenty boxes of three-hole white,” he blurts out, now wide awake. I leap back a bit, startled. What the -- ? He even points to the corresponding paper page in the catalogue. Man, he’s good, I think. “Are you okay?” I ask. “Yeah. Why?” Oh, no reason, I think. Is he insane?! “I was just putting in our Office Depot order,” he says. Um… yeah. If that’s what he wants to call it. “I think you were sleeping,” I say. “No, I wasn’t,” he says. Nexus readers, I am sure you would agree with me that, had you been there, he was definitely sleeping when I came in. But f*** it. I tell him the script is on the copier and go back to the writers’ room… A few days later, I run into said Xerox room to make a quick copy… and find Will standing there, collated scripts all around him. But he’s not moving. His head is on the copier – and he’s snoring. Honestly! He gets paid to sleep? I don’t think so… I nudge him, not as nicely as the other day. “Will – wake up,” I half-whisper, half-shout (if that’s possible). “What?” he groggles. “I’m almost done,” he adds. Man is he good at having his prepared excuses… And how can he be “almost done” if he’s asleep?! “You’re at work. In the copy room,” I say. “Wake up.” I make my copy as he rubs his eyes. “You were asleep,” I say, still annoyed. “No, I wasn’t.” Was he out of his frickin’ mind? “Yes. You were,” I say. “No, I wasn’t,” he says. “You were snoring,” I add. “No, I wasn’t.” “Yes, you were.” I wonder how long he and I can continue like this… The production coordinator interrupts, coming in. “Is there a problem in here?” she says. She is a middle-aged woman whose whole life is this show and nothing – and no one - else. I stare at Will for a moment, only the sound of the Xerox machine whirring. “No,” I finally say. “Good,” she says as she starts to head out. “And, Ariel?” I look up. “You shouldn’t sneak in a copy when Will is on deadline to get those scripts out.” “But—“ I start. “You’ve really got to work on your attitude,” she adds. “You need to be more of a team player.” WTF? I save Sleepy’s ass from being fired and I get in trouble?! I don’t want to be a tattletale (no one likes those, right?), but I also don’t want Will to continue falling asleep on the job. So after I calm down, which takes a few days, I head to the bitchy production coordinator’s office. Someone’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Ariel, please don’t.” It’s Will. He pulls me into the Xerox room and passionately throws me against the machine... (get your minds out of the gutter; he does not throw me against the machine). He tells me he has narcolepsy (no!) and that his meds ran out. And since he’s new here, his insurance hasn’t kicked in yet… And how the medicine is really expensive on its own. He says the production coordinator already wants to fire him for sleeping on the job – but can’t; it’s a medical condition he listed on his job application that she never bothered to read. So if they do fire him, he could sue them for discrimination (I would love to be in the courtroom just to hear the phrase “sleep discrimination”). Feeling sorry for him, I turn around, away from the production coordinator’s office. “Fine, I won’t tell,” I say as I begrudgingly walk back to the writers’ office. What’s a girl to do? If they can’t fire him, why can’t I tell on him? I hate when I’m in these no-win situations… There’s such a fine line between being buddy-buddy with the PAs and turning them in for not doing their work and adding more work for me, resulting in my getting blamed for a “bad attitude.” The next morning, I decide to go to my doctor – and, with my work health insurance, get a prescription for Methylphenidate… for, you guessed it, narcolepsy (which I have never had, by the way). If that’s not nice, I don’t know what is. I get to work the next day, excited to give the meds to Will, when I see about twenty people in the production office hovering around someone’s chair -- Will’s chair. He’s sitting straight up at his desk, fingers on the keyboard as though he is typing… asleep. People try not to laugh. I set the Methylphenidate on his lap, disguised in a brown paper bag, and go back to the Writers’ Room. I guess karma has a way of working itself out, after all. I didn’t have to be a tattletale or deal with a non-working, sleeping PA anymore. And from then on, whenever I’ve gotten to help pick a writers’ PA, I make sure they don’t list any sleeping disorders on their job application. justaskariel.com
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