What I Remember
Jan. 11th, 2009 05:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraSo I’m up to the chapter where I worked for ICM-Breakpoint. And I want to start that chapter with Breakpoint’s meeting with the infamous Enron. Problemo though – I don’t actually remember much about that meeting (though I do still have the project proposal somewhere in my files.) In those days my journal keeping was very sporadic on account of I was either driving or flying five hours a day, I was perpetually sleep-deprived and I had this idea that it wasn’t really discreet of me to write stuff down – I knew where all the bodies were buried after all.
Structure and pacing calls for a scene with dialog.
But I don’t remember the dialog.
James Frey and A Million Little Pieces notwithstanding, all memoir is fiction to a greater or lesser degree. I suppose with the proper disclaimers – “Maybe it went like this…” – I could make up a scene that satisfies my own internal requirements for dramatic pacing.
I wish I had a better memory though.
After the Enron meeting we have the back alley meeting with Little Eddie (which fortunately I did take notes on) and a Maria in panic mode scene. Then we segue into the whole Maria backstory – between my proto-Sapphic fixation on Maria as Kali and my immense professional disapproval of Maria as Ponzi Princess, I have volumes and volumes of primary source material to draw upon here.
I still haven’t made a decision about the Little Store. Sigh… How much time will the Corporate Masters give me, I wonder?
Ten Things I Actually Remember About the Enron Meeting
1. The meeting took place late June or early July 2000. I remember that the elevators of the great glass I.M. Pei-designed ICM building on Wilshire Boulevard were crowded with executive assistants in skimpy little designer outfits they really couldn’t afford on their minimalist salaries. The assistants all hoped to land a baby agent or barring that, a mail room operative who behaved as though he might be going places. Wasn’t gonna happen, of course – mail room operatives didn’t date and heterosexual baby agents only consorted with model/actress/somethings.
2. The meeting took place at the Beverly Hills Four Season, a luxurious but basically utilitarian hotel. Warner Brothers and New Line host most of their publicity junkets there.
3. We were miffed, I remember, when they refused our invitation to the great glass I.M. Pei-designed building. When a deal’s on the table and you’re the one who traveling, you’re at a strategic disadvantage ‘cause that makes you the petitioner.
4. I remember we were happy they didn’t know enough about the inner workings of the real Hollywood to understand that the Beverly Hills Four Season wasn’t a status venue. We figured that made them rubes.
5. Until half an hour before we left the ICM office we’d thought our big competition was AMG, Michael Ovitz’s boutique shop.
6. Half an hour before we were due at the Four Seasons, Maria was pacing the office and arguing with Ed.
“I should come with you,” she said.
And Ed answered, “No, Maria, no. Who are these people – account executives? The CEO of an ICM subsidiary does not take a meeting with account executives.”
“Then I should have Jeff call them.”
“No, Maria. ICM is the biggest entertainment agency in the world. ICM’s CEO does not call account executives.”
Maria wrung her hands. “But this is Enron –“
“So?”
“So we need to land this.”
“What’s really going on here, Maria?” Ed asked. “You don’t trust us to close this deal?”
“You haven’t closed it so far, have you?”
“And whose fault is that?”
They’d already gone through variations of this routine three or four times when Maria’s cell rang. Maria glanced at the caller ID. Instantly she punched a button and her voice changed to a purr, “Well, hello, Jef-efff… No, I didn’t hear – They did what?... You’re sure?... We can change their minds, Jeff… No, it wasn’t a mistake… Jeff, Jeff? I’m coming up.” She hung up and turned to Ed. “Enron is going to sign with Blockbuster.”
“They what? Blockbuster? Well, we’re not going then –“
“You have to go,” she hissed. “You have to get them to change their minds –“
“Oh, Maria. You got Jeff to call them.”
“We took them out for breakfast –“
“Maria. I told you that was a mistake.”
7. The rights to satellite and cable distribution of entertainment properties was still uncharted territory back in twenty-aught; Blockbuster was assuming here that since they had the right to distribute tapes and DVD’s, broadband distribution rights naturally followed. But we knew better, we were the ones who negotiated the contracts after all – content creators were not about to give it away even if they only had the vaguest notion as yet of what it was.
We were pissed. Not only was the whole meeting – the unappetizing cold cuts, the dark room, the Houston accents – an exercise in futility but this was actually one of those rare occasions when Breakpoint would have been a much better choice.
8. I remember the meeting took place in a suite, not a conference room. Evidently the meeting took place in the afternoon and the suite faced west – draperies had been pulled over the windows, none of the other lights in the room were on.
9. A buffet of cold cuts, artisan breads and out of season fruit sat on a table before us. A fly had committed hari-kari in the melted ice around the soft drinks and juices; the corners of the roast beef and provolone slices were all curled; a waxy yellow crust had formed on the mayonnaise. We understood that the fact they were recycling refreshments from an earlier meeting was yet another dis.
10. We didn’t change their minds. That turned out to be a good thing.
Structure and pacing calls for a scene with dialog.
But I don’t remember the dialog.
James Frey and A Million Little Pieces notwithstanding, all memoir is fiction to a greater or lesser degree. I suppose with the proper disclaimers – “Maybe it went like this…” – I could make up a scene that satisfies my own internal requirements for dramatic pacing.
I wish I had a better memory though.
After the Enron meeting we have the back alley meeting with Little Eddie (which fortunately I did take notes on) and a Maria in panic mode scene. Then we segue into the whole Maria backstory – between my proto-Sapphic fixation on Maria as Kali and my immense professional disapproval of Maria as Ponzi Princess, I have volumes and volumes of primary source material to draw upon here.
I still haven’t made a decision about the Little Store. Sigh… How much time will the Corporate Masters give me, I wonder?
Ten Things I Actually Remember About the Enron Meeting
1. The meeting took place late June or early July 2000. I remember that the elevators of the great glass I.M. Pei-designed ICM building on Wilshire Boulevard were crowded with executive assistants in skimpy little designer outfits they really couldn’t afford on their minimalist salaries. The assistants all hoped to land a baby agent or barring that, a mail room operative who behaved as though he might be going places. Wasn’t gonna happen, of course – mail room operatives didn’t date and heterosexual baby agents only consorted with model/actress/somethings.
2. The meeting took place at the Beverly Hills Four Season, a luxurious but basically utilitarian hotel. Warner Brothers and New Line host most of their publicity junkets there.
3. We were miffed, I remember, when they refused our invitation to the great glass I.M. Pei-designed building. When a deal’s on the table and you’re the one who traveling, you’re at a strategic disadvantage ‘cause that makes you the petitioner.
4. I remember we were happy they didn’t know enough about the inner workings of the real Hollywood to understand that the Beverly Hills Four Season wasn’t a status venue. We figured that made them rubes.
5. Until half an hour before we left the ICM office we’d thought our big competition was AMG, Michael Ovitz’s boutique shop.
6. Half an hour before we were due at the Four Seasons, Maria was pacing the office and arguing with Ed.
“I should come with you,” she said.
And Ed answered, “No, Maria, no. Who are these people – account executives? The CEO of an ICM subsidiary does not take a meeting with account executives.”
“Then I should have Jeff call them.”
“No, Maria. ICM is the biggest entertainment agency in the world. ICM’s CEO does not call account executives.”
Maria wrung her hands. “But this is Enron –“
“So?”
“So we need to land this.”
“What’s really going on here, Maria?” Ed asked. “You don’t trust us to close this deal?”
“You haven’t closed it so far, have you?”
“And whose fault is that?”
They’d already gone through variations of this routine three or four times when Maria’s cell rang. Maria glanced at the caller ID. Instantly she punched a button and her voice changed to a purr, “Well, hello, Jef-efff… No, I didn’t hear – They did what?... You’re sure?... We can change their minds, Jeff… No, it wasn’t a mistake… Jeff, Jeff? I’m coming up.” She hung up and turned to Ed. “Enron is going to sign with Blockbuster.”
“They what? Blockbuster? Well, we’re not going then –“
“You have to go,” she hissed. “You have to get them to change their minds –“
“Oh, Maria. You got Jeff to call them.”
“We took them out for breakfast –“
“Maria. I told you that was a mistake.”
7. The rights to satellite and cable distribution of entertainment properties was still uncharted territory back in twenty-aught; Blockbuster was assuming here that since they had the right to distribute tapes and DVD’s, broadband distribution rights naturally followed. But we knew better, we were the ones who negotiated the contracts after all – content creators were not about to give it away even if they only had the vaguest notion as yet of what it was.
We were pissed. Not only was the whole meeting – the unappetizing cold cuts, the dark room, the Houston accents – an exercise in futility but this was actually one of those rare occasions when Breakpoint would have been a much better choice.
8. I remember the meeting took place in a suite, not a conference room. Evidently the meeting took place in the afternoon and the suite faced west – draperies had been pulled over the windows, none of the other lights in the room were on.
9. A buffet of cold cuts, artisan breads and out of season fruit sat on a table before us. A fly had committed hari-kari in the melted ice around the soft drinks and juices; the corners of the roast beef and provolone slices were all curled; a waxy yellow crust had formed on the mayonnaise. We understood that the fact they were recycling refreshments from an earlier meeting was yet another dis.
10. We didn’t change their minds. That turned out to be a good thing.
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-12 05:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-12 05:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-13 05:05 pm (UTC)Again, thanks for the book.
You're so gracious.
Jeff
no subject
Date: 2009-01-13 06:14 pm (UTC)I think you'll enjoy it.
no subject
Date: 2009-01-13 06:22 pm (UTC)Who knows, maybe I'll drop dead and return as a little kid and create some sort of paradox that will tear a hole in the fabric of time/space:)
Jeff
no subject
Date: 2009-01-13 06:59 pm (UTC)I liked the whole conceit of the book -- what would I do if I had it to do over again, not one time but endless times, at least -- but NO SPOILERS... :-)
Incidently Wikipedia cites this book as a major influence on the great Bill Murray flick, Groundhog Day.