Hi, I'm Blonde. Yah, like no, I don't actually have blonde hair, but it's my actual name.
There was some dumb joke between my parents about wanting to have a blonde child. I wasn't, so they decided to name me that. I told you, dumb.
Ok beyond that, I am a girl. I live in New York City now. I have an amazing boyfriend who I live with (scandalous... in 1940....). I work as receptionist at a big agency. Our company represents, like, all the big actors, and my boss is so rich he wipes his butt with benjamin franklins. I took whatever salary they offered me- ha! Looking back on that now I could strangle myself in the job offer meeting.
What am I doing here then? Well, I am working on my master plan. Intrigued? Ah, here it goes. I am going to be a writer. A writer of books. A writer of books that are a financial and critical success. JK Rowling, watch out. New girl in town..... ready to get you coffee!
Actually, she came by our offices once. Actually, it was last week. Actually, it lead to a string of events that has inspired me to start this blog. Here is where the mildly interesting part of this story begins:
I was in the bathroom when she checked in, so I missed her. The receptionist, Annie, who has been here two months longer than me and won't let me forget it, told me about it. I legit freaked out. I mean JK Rowling is it. She made it, she made the dream happen and she knows the secret sauce. I might get to speak to her. This is like the kind of opportunity that doesn't come to everyone. I have to grab this shit. So, I wrote a note. It said
I recognize what you are. How can I learn from the master?
I thought it was, you know - mysterious enough to catch her interest and vague enough to let her put her own interpretation on it. Also, kind of hilarious.
I found the office she was in and brought in a round of coffee and snacks. It was, mmm, just a tiny bit awkward just walking in mid meeting, but whatever. I managed to drop the note in her lap. She looked at it, then smiled a little deviantly.
I wonder what that means.
Back at my desk, I waited through the whole meeting without moving once, so that I didn't miss her walking by. Each second felt like a minute. I tried going on Facebook, I tried Words With Friends, even Gawker (note: nothing that was actually my job). I couldn't put her out of my head.
I heard some scuffling and chattering down the hall. The meeting was finally over. They were coming! I heard her say:
I'll just visit the ladies room. Thank you.
Then the agent she was meeting with bolted up to me. Apparently, Jennifer Lawrence had just called him and was on the line with his assistant. She had just won the Golden Globe, so he couldn't, heaven forbid, wait a minute to say farewell to his guest. It's not like she was the most celebrated female novelist of his generation. He begged me to meet JK in the bathroom and see her out. Done.
I burst in the door and she was washing up. I told her that he had to go, urgent phone call, etc. I would gladly see her out.
She eyed me, then kept washing.
I mentioned that it was good for her to wash so carefully with the flu epidemic going around and all. I also noted the extensive news coverage of said epidemic.
I offered her a paper towel.
This wasn't happening as I had imagined. What the hell. Did I not just give you a mysterious job note? SAY SOMETHING LADY, lord knows I was to awkward to.
At my desk she finally broke.
Do you have a business card?
I made it happen in record time. She walked out, with my contact info.
I don't think I am going to sleep for weeks until I get an email, phone call, anything. JK HAS MY NUMBER. I fall asleep dreaming about us at a wine bar, big glass o' red in hand, we're laughing about her cheeky anecdotes from the early days of writing Harry Potter..
