What follows is an e-mail from January, 2004 when I was working as an office PA on the Brett Ratner film "After The Sunset" with Pierce Brosnan & Salma Hayek.

"Plain Goldfish? You're Fired!"
Well, I wasn't really fired, but if and when they do fire me this moment will be fresh on their minds...

Let me paint the picture: the producer is alone in his office, staying late till they call wrap. My boss tells me to get him a bowl of Goldfish from the kitchen to snack on: but we're out. So off to the store they send me to get "Goldfish, plain Goldfish is all he likes."

I do some grocery shopping for the office and I stop by the Goldfish shelf. You know that scene in "A Christmas Story" when Ralphy finally gets to Santa and freezes up? "Football? What's a football?" Well that was me, staring at the Goldfish shelf like I had never seen this strange abstract edible aquatic before.

"Plain Goldfish?" Is Chedder the plain Goldfish or is "Original" the plain Goldfish? Now I don't eat Goldfish, never cared for them due to their cheesy flavor. This bit of information should have tipped me off to Chedder Goldfish being the norm, the usual, the everyday, the true nature of Goldfish. But even as I think that, my arm reaches for the "Original" Goldfish. What in Heaven or Hell possessed me to pick up the "Original" Goldfish I'll never know. Even now I remember hearing the little voice in my head screaming "you moron! Chedder Goldfish is the plain Goldfish! Don't pick up the original flavor, those are soup crackers!" But for some reason, the planets aligned and it all seemed to make sense: he's an old man, very peculiar about what he eats (same sandwiches from the same cafe every day), maybe when they say plain Goldfish, they mean plain Goldfish... So I ignore the alarm, swat away the angel on my shoulder trying to steer me straight and I pick up the "Original" Goldfish. And you know that feeling you get when you're doing something wrong...but you don't stop? I had that feeling. My spidey sense was tingling all the way back to the office, all the way back to the kitchen, all the way back to the producers office.

"Hey Patrick, you want some Goldfish to snack on?"

"Sure, put them over there, thanks babe."

So far so good, he even called me "babe." A few minutes pass, a few meetings go by. Then my boss stops by his office, a moment later comes out. "You didn't buy Chedder Goldfish?"

The jig is up.

"Um, no, I just got the regular Goldfish."

She rolls her eyes, "sorry Matt, we're gonna have to let you go." The Production Secretary and I laugh, but behind my laughter...tears.

"At least I didn't buy the big jug."

See? The glass was half full. No, I didn't buy the big jug, I bought four little bags, I immediately started to concoct a plan to get the three unopened ones back to the store sight unseen.

"Without the cheese, they're not even gold. He won't eat that. Tomorrow go back and get the Chedder Goldfish."

I looked to the ground to swallow me up or the sky to lift me away, but no, there I sat in the office, having "Idiot" tattooed on my forehead.

So there you have it. A Tale of Two Goldfish. Now, you might say, a smarter man would have bought the Chedder as well, play it safe, hedge his bets. That's true, a smarter man would have. But I think we've already established that I'm not a smarter man. In fact, looking at the situation I would have fired me.

And so I go to bed to sleep off the headache I now have from banging my head against the wall. Who knows what adventures tomorrow will bring on the set of..."After the Sunset."

Labels: madcapped, wordy