Good bye and… good bye.

I arrived at work in such a good mood this morning. Regardless of the fact that I spilt some of my tall cap with wings on my pants on the way in, I sat in the car and listened to Richard Marx on the radio. It was warm, the air was misty with those dusty little bug things that makes everything so pretty- etc.

Our shoot is over. The movie is in the can, it’s a wrap.

As part of her post production duties I give Celeste a series of thank you letters to write to various companies, agencies and the crew- it is important not to forget to thank people when the big indaba is over, regardless of how much dick you had to suck to get things done for the actual duration of the event.

I love this absurd irony, that you have to thank people for the opportunity to perform sexual favours for them. I always thought that freelancing was a bit like whoring, but the older I get, the more apt the analogy seems to be. You gotta laugh, or you gonna cry. How strange that I have not been able to apply this neat little theorem to my relationship with the grown girl across the desk from me.

But anyway. Writing letters of any value whatsoever is yet another item on the long list of things that Celeste cannot do. Her standard letter, for absolutely everybody, follows-

26 May 2006

Dear -,

We would like to personally thank you for your invaluable input and professionalism without which the production of ‘(name of movie)’, would not have been possible.
We appreciate your patience and regret the need for the overtime on some occasions.
We hope to work with you aging in the future.

With Regards

I tried to explain to her the idea of a split infinitive, and the fact that a letter does not ‘personally’ thank someone. Blank. I also pointed out the spelling. Frown. And about underlining the date-. I wrote all the letters myself. Forgive me, but I think we are dealing here with a sure case of passive aggression that must be punished.

Instead- (I bought a book by Krishnamurti last night after movies. I have not started reading it, but I feel inspired by it already) I took a deep breath. I tried to be nice. You know, Celeste, I said. If you finish the things on your list today, you do not have to complete the week (i.e., not work on Saturday, which we do). She nodded earnestly, yes yes yes. We will pay you the full week, I said, not wanting to sound if I am trying to save money on her salary, but if your work is done-. Nice. Oh right.

She understood, I think, that the sooner we no longer sat in close proximity, the better for both of us. I think, also, that Krishnamurti and I have a long road and hard work ahead of us. During my time with Celeste I found a part of myself that I relish and loathe. Both responses need some attention. When I get in on Monday there will be an emty chair across the desk from me. Oh Celeste. What a time it was.