As it turned out, the movie we started working on in January of 2002 was his. I had never heard of him and was only vaguely aware of the infamous television show that he was bringing to the big screen.
By the time pre-production got rolling, things had shuffled around in the office. I was going to be a general production assistant - more conducive to a career - while my roommate Dr. Megan came aboard as the personal assistant to The Boss and the main talent.
As the months went by, the boys wore me down or I loosened up or both. The group - many of whom had been working together for years - were like family in their loyalties. The hours were long and Dr. Megan and I gradually accepted invitations for drinks with them after work or to parties on the weekends. This particular Hollywood scene of dive bars and studio rebellion was new to me, and fascinating.
Hunched over my production desk with a set of markers, I called upon every spirit rally and political event from my youth to inspire the signs I was making for around the office. I made signs to greet visitors, signs for the coffee maker, signs that warned guests of the content in our office. They were cutesy, as is my style, stopping just short of bubble letters.
“Do you know what The Boss said about you?” Dr. Megan asked me one night, several months into production. As his assistant, Dr. Megan had a lot more interaction with the director, the Big Boss, than I did. Though my desk sat near the front door of his office, we had hardly exchanged words since our initial meeting.
“What did he say?” I asked, wary. The Boss had already proved himself impressive to me. He was a painter, a film director, and in the loosest of ways he ran a tight ship.
“He told me that if he was running for student council president, he would want Laura to make his campaign signs.”
Before that, I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.
I'm telling a love story this week. Part I is here.