Tales From Almost Employment.
Another true story. About a year ago I was walking home from the office when I was propositioned by a rather glamorous young lady. Oh aye! I thought…the old boy still has it.
They lady in question duly introduced herself and informed me that she was a casting director on the lookout for faces to appear in an upcoming TV commercial. A business card was proffered as proof/validation that her intentions were sadly honourable. She stated that she was intrigued by my visage and would I be interested in the “part”.
Inside I was screaming pick me! Pick me! But outwardly I elected to play it cool simply stating that I would be willing to assist as she had asked so nicely.
A few minutes later after exchanging details and posing for a couple of polaroids I was informed that she would be in touch.
Now I have always considered myself something of a level headed chap but by now my head was swimming with thoughts of fame, stardom, trips to Cannes etc. I was also imagining what the mystery product I would be advertising was.
In my mind it was obviously something uber-cool. A new bar, a masculine fragrance, maybe a hip band or cool gadget. So somewhat sheepishly I plucked up the courage to ask.
“Oh! Did I not say?” the young lady answered.
“It’s for Dobbies Garden Centre”
And right at that moment another one of my dreams were crushed. I had gone from chisel jawed hero to fucking gnome in about the time it takes to boil a decent egg.
What disappointed me most was that to this lady I looked like someone who gardens.
And she never did call.
Another true story. About a year ago I was walking home from the office when I was propositioned by a rather glamorous young lady. Oh aye! I thought…the old boy still has it.
They lady in question duly introduced herself and informed me that she was a casting director on the lookout for faces to appear in an upcoming TV commercial. A business card was proffered as proof/validation that her intentions were sadly honourable. She stated that she was intrigued by my visage and would I be interested in the “part”.
Inside I was screaming pick me! Pick me! But outwardly I elected to play it cool simply stating that I would be willing to assist as she had asked so nicely.
A few minutes later after exchanging details and posing for a couple of polaroids I was informed that she would be in touch.
Now I have always considered myself something of a level headed chap but by now my head was swimming with thoughts of fame, stardom, trips to Cannes etc. I was also imagining what the mystery product I would be advertising was.
In my mind it was obviously something uber-cool. A new bar, a masculine fragrance, maybe a hip band or cool gadget. So somewhat sheepishly I plucked up the courage to ask.
“Oh! Did I not say?” the young lady answered.
“It’s for Dobbies Garden Centre”
And right at that moment another one of my dreams were crushed. I had gone from chisel jawed hero to fucking gnome in about the time it takes to boil a decent egg.
What disappointed me most was that to this lady I looked like someone who gardens.
And she never did call.
2 comments:
That was a great story Dave. Now I'm picturing you gardening in a kilt. Not a bad image at all. ;-)
So basically you're telling us that you look like a 'suburban dad' type.
Do you drive a Volvo by any chance?
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