I will never forget the day I got "the call."
I knew she would be calling--about 4, I think. Or was it six? Alright. FINE. I forget some things. But I remember getting my list of questions all ready to go, the ones my friend J had sent me. I got myself a bottle of Coke Zero, some paper, and two pens in case I wrote so much that one ran out. Or maybe one would end up not working or snap in my massive monkey paw. And I sat down on my daughter's bed--I'm not sure why except perhaps that was the only bed made that day. Grabbed the house phone and my cell phone and planted myself on top of the comforter a full twenty minutes before our scheduled time. In case she called early, see.
I was jittery. Could hardly sit still. So I sat there playing with my feet, just cuz. Banged my head on the headboard a few times. Sang a 30 Seconds to Mars song. Searrrrrrrch annnnnd Destrooooooooy. Chewed on my pen. Broke the little dangly thing on the pen cap. Drew little hearts all around my list of questions.
Then my husband came home from work, peeked in the room: "Did she call yet?"
And I freaked: GET OUT! SHE HASN'T CALLED YET! YOU'RE GONNA FOUL UP MY MOJO!
Okay, it was a little less disturbing than that. Possibly. But that's how I remember it.
Hubs quietly slipped out, muttering something about neuroses and hug therapy.
Then I proceeded to drink an entire bottle of Coke Zero. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
Then I texted my mom and a friend something like: "Oh crap. I just tanked down an entire bottle of Coke Zero. What if I burp on the phone!!!!"
Then they pretty much texted back: BURP NOW!
So I forced out a good burp or two. Felt better, but still worried. I knew there was at least one more good one in there. I chewed off a nail (not on my toes), and then the phone rang.
Cleared the throat. "Hell--hello?"
"Hi. Carolina? This is Vickie Motter."
Okay, so the hellos were possibly not exactly like that. I might have said, like Hi. Or maybe Hey there. Probably not. But something like that. And then Vickie asked me how I was doing, and I said, "Nervous," and she kind of laughed a little, and reassured me that it was normal.
And then holy mother&#@%!@$ $#!@. I did the unthinkable.
I proceeded to tell Vickie about needing to burp. How I had just texted my mom and friend that I tanked down Coke Zero and they texted back BURP NOW, and that I was terrified I would burp in her ear.
Cue awkward laughter (Vickie). Gasp (me). Soooooo.
And then we talked. For like, I don't know. An hour? About my work, work we both love (which, dude, we have very similar taste), plans for my career and stuff. And then at the end, like out of the blue, she says, "I'd like to offer you representation."
Choke on my saliva.
Then I say, "Um. Give me a sec."
Awkward laughter (Vickie). "Take your time." Or something like that.
In case of an emergency: Bend over. Tuck head between your knees. Try not to puke up Coke Zero.
So, I sputtered about something. I forget what now. Possibly something resembling a curse word, and then she asked me if I had any questions, and I said, "Well, I have a sheet of paper with a bunch of questions on it that my friend sent me," and then I slapped myself for being such a lame-ass to admit such a thing. And then I proceeded to ask her questions and every now and then I would mumble, "No sorry, that was a stupid question. Bad question!" and move on to the next good one.
That was my introduction to Vickie.
And she offered anyway. Didn't even rescind. And when I sent her the signed contract, she sent me one with her signature and everything. All legal and stuff.
Be your lame-ass self. The right people will value you anyway.
Ohhhhh, I switched to using my domain. Isn't it grown-up looking? Only problem is it didn't save all the old TWEET counts for each post. So, yeah. Not much I can do about it. Except tweet all my old posts again (Can we say douche?). I've considered just getting rid of the tweet button, but it is oh so convenient. Blerg.