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The Writers' Assistant Life: The Snack Smuggler |
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Written by Ariel
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Over the last few weeks, I’ve covered a wide array of subjects: the lactating writer, the quickie I had in the writers’ room, the narcoleptic PA… This week, I thought it’s time to talk about something often underappreciated when working in TV: the free food.
As you probably know, an abundance of food is one of the perks of working on a show. (At my last job, when we were showing a PA around on his first day, he was amazed at the stocked fridge(s), the snacks, the gum, etc. “It’s all free?” he said excitedly. It was very cute.) It really is everywhere you look: the writers’ kitchen, the production office’s kitchen, on set, that person’s office, this person’s office, the writers’ conference table… everywhere. Not to mention all the various gift baskets and cupcakes that come in regularly, as well as the fact that it seems to be somebody’s birthday every day, so you can guarantee to get that afternoon sugar rush you wanted.
Hence, all of the above makes it very nice to not have to go grocery shopping or go home and cook after working anywhere from 12-18 hours. Since I spend all my eating hours at work, I usually have every meal there. And, should I get hungry between meals, there is always something to eat… until one person ruined it for all of us.
The show I was working on encouraged us assistants to order extra food at lunch, so we’d have enough for dinner, too. And the writers’ PA always bought double of everything when he went grocery shopping, so we could take home a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, or a case of Coke (he even started taking our requests, upon the writers’ insistence that we don’t starve). And none of the higher-ups minded – better stuff goes home with us than be thrown away, they said.
Now, I can see us poor assistants sneaking some gum and snacks and meals home with us… but the writers, too? This was a pretty big show, and I know the writers in question were doing pretty well (in fact, I knew; a PA had left the budget on the copy machine – oops). At first, they would take home their leftover lunch, which I thought was sweet – they weren’t wasting food. But then one (we’ll call her The Eater) started ordering three or four entrees for lunch… every day. And no one blinked. (It always amazes me when people with money don’t spend it; what are they saving it for? And, more importantly, did they really want food from “x” lunch restaurant for their dinner? What would their family eat? I could understand we assistants doing it (we really had no other choice, with our meager paychecks), but a million-dollar writer?)
Now, the line producer (let’s call him Mr. Money) never got involved; he never questioned why a writers’ office with ten people ordered eighteen lunches (I guess he thought we were just all very hungry). Until one day when he came into the writers’ office at lunch – to find The Eater in her office, dining on one of her five lunches… while her husband and three kids ate lunches #2-5. He did a couple of double-takes and left.
Later, Mr. Money returned with a stack of several lunch receipts, pointing out all the extraneous lunches and blaming our office for why the show’s been over budget the last several episodes. (Yeah, that’s it.) He banned any of us from taking so much as a stick of gum home ever again and threatened to fire us on account of “stealing” if we did. He even started watching us as we left each night, lest we had a loaf of bread sticking out of our backpack or a carton of orange juice jutting out of our purse. I’m sure he would have patted each one of us down, if only we wouldn’t sue him for sexual harassment.
One of our PAs, we’ll call him Tommy, was the office rebel. One night as Mr. Money was on his watch, Tommy decided to stuff himself full of food from the kitchen: bags of bagels in his pants, a bag of chips under his shirt, etc. We all watched anxiously as he walked by Mr. Money, trying not to let the crinkly sound of the potato chip bag give him away… Tommy was just about at his car when Mr. Money called out to him: “Tommy”? “Yeah,” Tommy said, trying to play it cool and not let the bag of Lay’s slip out from under his shirt. Uh-oh, we all thought. This is it. Poor Tommy. And he was such a good photocopier…
Mr. Money continued” “Tommy, it looks like you put on a few pounds.” Shit, we all thought. But before we could save Tommy, Mr. Money continued: “You’d better start going back to the gym. You get a free membership to the one on the lot, you know.” “Thanks, sir,” Tommy called out as he awkwardly got into his car, trying not to crush the Hostess cupcakes that he had hidden around his waist.
From then on, each of us could only order one meal for lunch. But we still had Tommy – he became our official snack smuggler. And the show continued to be overbudget, but Mr. Money got blamed this time, we didn’t.
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About Ariel
Ariel is an aspiring (paid) writer. While not typing her own scripts, she types those of writers in L.A. while working as a writers’ assistant. She has corrected commas and placed periods on everything from dramas to comedies. She received an MA in Writers’ Assisting and a BA in Thick Skin from the Hollywood School of Hard Knocks (which she accumulated while working as a WA on six TV shows and two films). Feel free to e-mail Ariel at:
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