© Debra Galant 2004
In my house growing up, whenever one of us came home and asked if anyone had called, my father always answered the same thing: “MGM.”
As if.
The truth was, despite the talent that coursed through our house like water gushing from a broken water heater, talent scouts rarely called. Actually, they never called. Nor did scouts for major league baseball teams, recruiters for the CIA, high-powered literary agents or the Beatles. If nominated we would have run, but strangely, the call to carry the mantle of our party never came.
In fact, the only calls from people who didn’t know us personally were from people trying to sell us something.
So please don’t mention to my children that while they were out the other day, somebody claiming to work for a talent scout called to see if they could audition for a TV commercial.
Unfortunately, the “booking agent” asked for my daughter’s name (and I said it) just as she walked through the door from school. I hung up so fast that I aroused said daughter’s suspicion.
“What was that?” she said.
“Nothing.”
“I heard my name.”
“Dentist,” I lied.
A search on the internet a few hours later turned up a website filled with sob stories from people who’d actually answered the siren call of television fame – from the same so-called talent agency – and found themselves parted from substantial sums of money.
Funny thing is, despite having signed up for the National Do Not Call Registry in September, I’m getting more unwanted calls than ever. And not just more calls. Weirder calls.
The other day, a doctor’s office called offering me a free physical.
A few months ago, when I tried to get rid of a call from a chimney sweep, the guy turned nasty. After I turned down his services, he actually threatened to report me to the authorities for having a dirty chimney. When I questioned his business ethics, he slammed down the phone.
He called about a month later. I recognized his voice, of course. To him, of course, I was just a phone number on a list. But the snarl in his voice had seared itself into my memory.
And I’m always winning free vacations in Orlando, a city I can’t stand.
So when the call comes from the MacArthur Foundation, offering me a genius grant, I’ll probably blow it.
Half a million dollars to reward my creativity? Yeah, right. Genius? Hold on. There’s call-waiting. I better go. Might be MGM. Just put me on your do-not-call list.
