and talk shows for my other clients. By Friday night I am exhausted and relish my plan—or rather,
no plans
—for a lazy weekend spent catching up on TiVo and sleep.
But first I have an obligation to fulfill—a Saturday afternoon meeting for the Tribe of Hope organization. It’s the second gala planning meeting, and I am still feeling a tad guilty for missing the first one. Even though the last thing I need is one more thing on my plate. But it’s a cause important to Jacob, and a good one on its own, so the least I can do is donate my time—and my skills.
I love that Jacob selflessly contributes to their fund-raising efforts. It’s really noble and sweet of him to help in any way he can. It’s also clear that he does it because he can’t feel helpless in a situation, no matter what it is—there is always somethinghe can do to make it better. When my dad once stayed overnight in the hospital for an angioplasty, all I could think to do was bring him his newspaper, and three business books on tape. I knew my mom wouldn’t think of it, because she is definitely the panic-first-ask-questions-later type.
So here I am at the planning meeting for this celebrity gala event, alone, while Jacob is out of town on business. To be fair, it’s not his fault he couldn’t be here. As he pointed out, my business has plenty of last-minute items that pull me away from events. Once in a while, so does his.
The committee is made up of young executives from around LA, in all different fields—a few agents, some technology types, and banking people like Jacob. We spend the afternoon organizing the events for the gala and assigning tasks. Like who’s in charge of the silent auction and who is going to handle publicity. Ha. I see where this is going. All eyes look to me, and I take my cue to offer up my skills to help the organization. Look, I realize I sound totally obnoxious. I really do appreciate good charities… but I’d rather write them a check.
By the end of the meeting we have all the tasks assigned and I realize that I have my work cut out for me. As the most seasoned publicist, I am heading up the subcommittee to promote the event. There are two WME agents on the committee who offered up a few of their clients to give the event cachet, and I plan to ask a few of our clients to attend as well. We agree to approach some A-list talent we know to “host” the event. Meaning they only have to attend and graciously let us use their names on the invite. In the end I leave with a list of things todo, fifteen email addresses to cc on each update, and the belief (I would never voice) that Jacob owes me big-time.
On Monday Elle calls an unanticipated staff meeting to discuss everyone’s upcoming events. As a department, the general rule is we help one another out when appropriate or possible. But always, your own clients come first. So, while everyone else at Bennett/Peters would have loved the chance to help me with Billy Fox, I knew the second I walked into that pitch meeting that he would ultimately be
my
responsibility. It’s like that “promise” one makes with one’s parents at age eight:
“But Mommy, I
want
a puppy! Yes, Daddy, of course I’ll take care of it. And feed it! Yes,
every
morning!”
Ha! And then, of course, a week later, there are Mom and Dad up at the crack of dawn feeding “your” dog and taking it for walks. But Billy is a multimillion-dollar client, not a scruffy shelter dog, so I will need to make sure his coat shines, keep his nails clipped, and, of course, clean the dog run every day—well, the publicist’s equivalent of all that at least.
I give the team an update on all my projects, which are under control as usual. Then Elle’s attention turns to the other publicists. There’s been some shuffling since my pregnant coworker Melissa has been out the last few days. Junior publicists eagerly step up, happy to score more direct contact with bigger clients.
But now that we’ve moved
no plans
—for a lazy weekend spent catching up on TiVo and sleep.
But first I have an obligation to fulfill—a Saturday afternoon meeting for the Tribe of Hope organization. It’s the second gala planning meeting, and I am still feeling a tad guilty for missing the first one. Even though the last thing I need is one more thing on my plate. But it’s a cause important to Jacob, and a good one on its own, so the least I can do is donate my time—and my skills.
I love that Jacob selflessly contributes to their fund-raising efforts. It’s really noble and sweet of him to help in any way he can. It’s also clear that he does it because he can’t feel helpless in a situation, no matter what it is—there is always somethinghe can do to make it better. When my dad once stayed overnight in the hospital for an angioplasty, all I could think to do was bring him his newspaper, and three business books on tape. I knew my mom wouldn’t think of it, because she is definitely the panic-first-ask-questions-later type.
So here I am at the planning meeting for this celebrity gala event, alone, while Jacob is out of town on business. To be fair, it’s not his fault he couldn’t be here. As he pointed out, my business has plenty of last-minute items that pull me away from events. Once in a while, so does his.
The committee is made up of young executives from around LA, in all different fields—a few agents, some technology types, and banking people like Jacob. We spend the afternoon organizing the events for the gala and assigning tasks. Like who’s in charge of the silent auction and who is going to handle publicity. Ha. I see where this is going. All eyes look to me, and I take my cue to offer up my skills to help the organization. Look, I realize I sound totally obnoxious. I really do appreciate good charities… but I’d rather write them a check.
By the end of the meeting we have all the tasks assigned and I realize that I have my work cut out for me. As the most seasoned publicist, I am heading up the subcommittee to promote the event. There are two WME agents on the committee who offered up a few of their clients to give the event cachet, and I plan to ask a few of our clients to attend as well. We agree to approach some A-list talent we know to “host” the event. Meaning they only have to attend and graciously let us use their names on the invite. In the end I leave with a list of things todo, fifteen email addresses to cc on each update, and the belief (I would never voice) that Jacob owes me big-time.
On Monday Elle calls an unanticipated staff meeting to discuss everyone’s upcoming events. As a department, the general rule is we help one another out when appropriate or possible. But always, your own clients come first. So, while everyone else at Bennett/Peters would have loved the chance to help me with Billy Fox, I knew the second I walked into that pitch meeting that he would ultimately be
my
responsibility. It’s like that “promise” one makes with one’s parents at age eight:
“But Mommy, I
want
a puppy! Yes, Daddy, of course I’ll take care of it. And feed it! Yes,
every
morning!”
Ha! And then, of course, a week later, there are Mom and Dad up at the crack of dawn feeding “your” dog and taking it for walks. But Billy is a multimillion-dollar client, not a scruffy shelter dog, so I will need to make sure his coat shines, keep his nails clipped, and, of course, clean the dog run every day—well, the publicist’s equivalent of all that at least.
I give the team an update on all my projects, which are under control as usual. Then Elle’s attention turns to the other publicists. There’s been some shuffling since my pregnant coworker Melissa has been out the last few days. Junior publicists eagerly step up, happy to score more direct contact with bigger clients.
But now that we’ve moved
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