Susan Ellen was bragging about her clients again. She asked about my family and I told her that my brother actually lives in Los Angeles, too.
My brother works for the production company owned by a noteworthy person. She asked so many questions that his boss's name just slipped out.
"Can you call your brother and ask for [his boss's] number? I used to perform my treatments on him and I want to get in touch with him again."
"I don't know…" I answered.
"I'm not sure the temp agency allows this. And I feel really uncomfortable. And my brother has nothing to do with [his boss's] health-life."
"Oh," she answered, "I guess your brother isn't as friendly with [his boss] as I am. We go back ten years."
What the fuck?
Sure, Susan Ellen was a manipulator, I could see that. What made me furious is that she was a bad manipulator.
Plus, I could smell her asserting her pseudo-A-List power by saying she and my brother's boss go way back.
I cracked a smile to begin laughing in her face and respond with, "If you claim to be close to my brother’s boss, then why do you need me to call him?"
This was going to be the easiest cat-and-mouse game I would ever play. It would be like competing against a retard in the Special Olympics.
Then, I realized.
I'm competing against a retard in the Special Olympics.
I can't retort with a comment to show she's being obviously hypocritical. She probably doesn't know.
"That's nice," I said.
She went on to say all the nice things she has done with my brother's boss, obviously putting me in the my place on the Hollywood ladder of success.
I just smiled and nodded, smiled and nodded. I'm going to be someone's bitch for a very long time.