The Executive's Assistant

Veronica Lewis Jones was working on securing the proper equipment for the video shoot. She had spent several hours checking that the cameras requested were of the proper High Definition quality, along with monitoring the travel schedule of her boss. In the 11^th hour, the treatment for Rixi’s new single was being tweaked which added to the feeling of chaos in the expansive midtown office. The initial idea had been to shoot an old school music video with minimal personnel, but the budget had opened up considerably and a sequence requiring numerous dancers and crew members had been inserted. With calm precision, Veronica’s mind alternated between her responsibilities. HD cams? Check. Crew assembled? Check. She knew that paperwork still needed to be submitted so that everybody on the crew would get paid on time. She’d have to call Bobby down in operations.  In fact, she’d go ahead and make that call right no-

“VERROONNICCAAA!!!!”

A piercing earth shattering call split the floor.

           

Veronica’s mind immediately lost focus and she raced to the large office situated behind her. The space was conservatively decorated, a large mahogany desk its only ornate feature. A small television screen rested on a bookshelf across from the desk and large windows looking out to Midtown East gave the space appropriate gravitas.

Alex Sirri was an Amazon. At 6 foot 3, with flowing raven black hair, she was a titan of the music industry. Her specialty was music videos, and she had managed and overseen some of the world’s biggest pop stars, past and present. Madonna. Michael Jackson. Britney Spears. Bieber. And now, Rixi.

“HAVE YOU SEEEEEEN THIS SHIT?”  cackled Alex, pointing at the tiny television screen. Her luminous hair bobbed side to side as she shook her head. She was watching the new video release of the band “Standard,” which had been shot by one of the directors who had formerly worked with Sirri’s team. Sirri had fired him when it was clear he could not himself take direction and the video premiering on the screen was his first project since.

“UGH, what a CRAPPY Idea! Why in the HELLL would he have these guys ACT?!! And the wardrobe is so CHEAAAPP,” bellowed the music executive.

Veronica knew at these times she was to agree with her boss, or at least be neutral The goal, Veronica found, was to get out of the office as fast as possible so that she could get back to work and avoid a misstep that might  result in getting singed by the jet stream of Sirri’s wrath.

“David Chaffin sucks,” Veronica said agreeably, referring to the fired video director by name.

“He’s an IDIOTT!” blasted Sirri, emphasizing her point with a stamp of her foot. Suddenly she became very serious.

“Veronica, have you sorted through the new treatment?  Tommy called me and asked that everything be perfect, ABSOLUTELY perfect.”  Veronica nodded and told her boss that she would have everything in place shortly.

“Good, good,” the executive said dismissively, already absorbed in the laptop she had set on her desk.

Scuttling out of the office, Veronica raced for the telephone. She knew that Tommy Insino, the director of Rixi’s new video was an absolute stickler when it came to his cast and crew getting paid on time. On the last shoot with him, she had processed the paperwork appropriately, but an internal clerical error had distributed the check a day late, and she had nearly lost her job for it.

“Shit rolls downhill,” she though wryly to herself. As the lowest ranking employee, an assistant, Veronica was accustomed to being blamed for things that weren’t her fault. She had once been yelled at by Sirri because a sandwich was not fresh enough, despite the fact that Sirri herself had selected and purchased it.

“Bobby, its Veronica. Any movement on those invoices for Rixi’s shoot?”

Yo V!,” came the relaxed timbre of the operations coordinator, “Yea, I’ve got that in front of me but there are some things I wanted to go over with you, got a minute?”

Veronica had anticipated this as a result of the extra crew and dancers, and she  opened up the new treatment on her computer.  Suddenly, she heard an ear-splitting explosion.

“VERRRRONNNICCCAAAAA!!!!” thundered Sirri from the interior office.

“Bobby, could you hold on just a minute,” Veronica apologized, quickly clicking the hold button and jetting toward the interior office.

“VERRRRR-,” Sirri began shouting, just as the assistant appeared in the doorway.

“HAVE YOU SEEEN THE MEMO FROM BARRY ABOUT THE HARD DRIVES?!”  The executive’s face was pained, and incredulity lined here nasal voice.

Barry Leon was an executive on Sirri’s level; he only emailed Veronica to schedule appointments. She had not received the memo.

“Well, you should tell him to CC you on these things,” Sirri said accusingly. “They’re trying to limit us to 200 gigabyte drives which makes noooo sense!”

Veronica thought about the best way of removing herself from the office. Bobby was still on hold and the invoices, she realized with a start, needed to be submitted by 12pm to make deadline. It was already 11:10, and there was still a lot to be processed.

“That’s crazy,” nodded Veronica, trying to inch her way toward the door.

Sirri hardly noticed:

“I JUST THINK THIS IS TOTALLY RIDICULOUS. HOW THE FUCK ARE WE TO STORE OUR MATERIAL ON SUCH EQUIPMENT. WHAT YEAR IS THIS, 2000? ARE THEY GOING TO GIVE US FLOPPY DISKS NEXT?!  THIS COMPNAY IS GOING TO SHIT. WHEN I WAS WITH SONY, WE WOULD HAVE NEEVVVERR HAD A-“

Veronica knew she was in for a long complaining session and she desperately needed to resolve the invoice problem. It was ten minutes before she decided on a tried and true method of escape.

“AaaaaaaAAAchoooo,” sneezed Veronica, immediately covering her nose with her hands.

“Sorry Alex, “ she said, “let me get a tissue.”

The giant woman stopped her rant for a moment, and blinked in disgust.

“Veronica,” she said quietly, “I told you how I feel about illness. If you’re sick, don’t come in to work. I can’t be getting your colds.”

Veronica nodded her head and flew back to her desk. 11:22. Desperately she tapped the hold button and was unsurprised to find that the line was dead. She dialed the phone.

“Bobby, sorry about that, can we go through the invoice paperwork?”

“Shit, V, I just gotta call from Sara Mann’s team. They’re doing a shoot too, that I just stated processing for deadline, can it wait?” Bobby ‘s California swagger was pitched down in contrition.

Veronica closed her eyes and for the first time that day began to feel that things were spinning out of control.

“Bobby, I need this shit out by deadline or Sirri will KILL ME, you have to help me,” whispered Veronica, aware that the executive in the office behind her had exquisite hearing.

“V, I can only do what I can do….Look, gimme your info now, and I might be able to get it done, but its not a guarantee.”

Opening up the new-treatment in her email, Veronica began reading out the details for each of the new add-ons to the payroll. Halfway through the list, she heard the bright singing voice of her boss.

“Verrrrronica” warbled Sirri, her past as a collegiate a cappella singer on full display.

Frantically, the assistant read down the list, but Sirri’s voice punctured her concentration.

“VERONICA,” barked Sirri impatiently, rage building.

“Bobby….I gotta go”

“V, is that all the names?”

“I don.’t…I think so, I gotta go!”

Slamming the phone down, Veronica went back into Sirri’s office.

“Didn’t you hear me call you? Honestly, sometimes I don’t understand what’s going through your head,” Sirri offered, her last words presented in sing song.

“I’m really sorry Alex,” Veronica pandered, “I was just on the phone with Bobby, trying to finish the-“

“Come here and look at this wardrobe email for a minute,” Sirri interrupted.  Veronica wondered if her boss even knew she had been speaking.

“What do you think? Will Rixi like this? Honestly, I think these designers make clothes for themselves rather than the artist. These might be ok though, what do you think?”

The numbers of Veronica’s digital watch flashed 11:51 as sweat trickled down her spine. She felt vaguely nauseous as she tried desperately to remember if all the names on the new treatment had been included in her rush.

“Well?” demanded Sirri.

“It looks terrible,” Veronica blurted out, desperately breaking her rule of neutrality in the hopes that such candor would get her out of the office quickly.  It was a risky move; such daring could result in nuclear fallout. Sirri stared silently at the email, as Veronica held her breath.

“Yea…It IS pretty shitty, isn’t it,” Sirri mused to herself.  She shook her head, and yawned. Looking up at Veronica she grimaced. “You look awful, AWFUL. God, I HATE it when you’re sick. Shooo, shoo, don’t infect me!”

Veronica scampered out of the office and made a B-Line for the Phone. 11:57.

“Bobby, “ she said breathlessly, “What’s the status?”

“Chill V, I got you. Submitted a minute ago.”

Veronica took a deep breath and felt her blood pressure lessen.

“Thanks Bobby, I love you”

“No problem darlin, drinks after work?”

“Yea, I’ll need it.”

She hung up and closed her eyes.

After a few moments, she took a breath and opened her computer. Her heart plummeted when she saw an email had come in at 11:55am with the subject line “URGENT. CREW PAYROLL.” Five new names had been added. She knew before she glanced at her watch that she had missed the deadline, but the motion was impulsive. 12:02. These 5 would not be paid on time and she would get the blame.

“VERONICA,” shouted Sirri, the urgency in her voice suggesting World War III, an impending tsunami, and the eternal Rapture were coming to concurrently bury the world. With a leaden heart, the assistant trudged into the interior office.