Once upon a time, I had a job writing articles for a relationship website. Which was ironic since I'm the world's worst expert on the topic. But the articles I wrote were really, really good. I happened upon the website the other day and some of my stuff is still up there--three years later. The main reason I quit is that the guy in charge of the operation (actually HE would be the world's worst relationship expert!) was a complete and utter asshole. And they didn't pay me jackshit or even give me a byline for material that obviously had withstood the test of time. Note to all writers: Don't give it away for free! Content is King!
I did exact a bit of revenge: my asshole ex-employer became a character in one of my screenplays. If the movie ever gets made, I doubt he'd recognize himself (despite the very obvious pseudonym), but I'm sure anyone who has ever worked for him would:
INT. JEFFRIES MEDIA GROUP - DAY
Allison sits across from Owen, scribbling on her notepad.
Owen is reclining in his chair and rattling notes to her
while simultaneously checking his e-mail.
Allison goes through the motions, but Owen's voice is just
an incessant drone:
OWEN
...media buys...placement...check
with..Youngman...rewrite...
Allison stares out the big glass window behind Owen's desk.
DISSOLVE TO:
Owen rocks and reclines in his oversized leather chair. The
chair tilts back--a bit too far--and CRASHES through the
plate glass window.
BACK TO REALITY
Owen is sitting up--laser eyes focused on the day-dreaming
Allison.
OWEN
I said--did you get that?
Allison snaps to attention.
ALLISON
Yes. I got it, Owen.
Owen looks dubious.
OWEN
Repeat it back to me.
Allison locks eyes with Owen. She has reached her limit.
ALLISON
Owen, I'm not a five year-old. I
wish you would stop treating me like
I'm completely incompetent.
OWEN
Well, Allison--I wish I didn't have
to double-check every little thing
you do, either.
ALLISON
You don't--
Owen sighs and shakes his head.
OWEN
I've tried to guide you, but you
keep resisting. You always make
things so difficult...
ALLISON
I'm not trying to make things
difficult--
OWEN
You see? There you go again. I am
trying to communicate with you and
instead of listening, you are being
defensive. I'm just trying to help
you, Allison.
ALLISON
I'm not being defensive, I'm just
trying--
OWEN
But that's the point--maybe the truth
is you are trying, maybe this is
truly the best you are capable of,
maybe you think I'm being an
asshole...
Owen smirks self-righteously.
OWEN (CONT'D)
But the fact is, the truth doesn't
matter. It doesn't matter in this
job, in politics or in life. What
matters is the perception of truth.
And my perception is that maybe you're
just not cut out to be my assistant.
Owen gives Allison a condescending smile. Allison stares
back at him.
CUT TO:
Allison punches Owen SMACK in the face. Owen grips his nose
as it spurts blood.
BACK TO REALITY
ALLISON
So...? Are you firing me?
OWEN
No. No. Not at all. Why don't we
just call it amicable parting of the
ways due to a mutual realization of
incompatible work styles?
Allison looks at Owen, dumbfounded.
ALLISON
So--I'm fired.
Owen sighs.
OWEN
See--you're being difficult again.
I was trying to give it a positive
spin--
He swivels away from her.
OWEN (CONT'D)
You can clear out your desk. I'll
cut your final check.
INT. JEFFRIES MEDIA GROUP - LATER
Allison has a box packed with her belongings. Owen approaches
her desk, check in hand.
Allison takes the check. She looks at it, concerned.
ALLISON
Owen, you forgot to include the pay
out for the two weeks vacation that
I never got a chance to take this
summer...
OWEN
Well--you forgot to give me the
standard two weeks notice--so we're
even...
ALLISON
But you fired me...
Owen sighs, aggravated.
you're not expecting a reference
letter...
Owen turns on heel and walks into his office, shutting the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment