Today was the day. I knew it was coming but the shock of it all rocked my being like the worst carnival ride you've ever been on. It was as if my girlfriend, yes the one that I don't have, just told me she was pregnant. It was like the star player on your favorite team had just gone down injured in the playoffs. It was like those awkward middle school years when your body starts going through puberty; and to make matters worse, I was sick. Yep! Today was the day I was going to pitch to the executives the script I covered the previous week, and despite my astute preparation, I was nervous as hell.
7:58am on the dot, I make my way into the offices. I had gotten pretty good at timing my arrival based on the previous week's mishaps. I pace frantically between the front desk and the copy room, possibly waiting for some higher being to take me away from the situation. But no, I had waited all my life for this opportunity and I was ready! Suddenly, the list of projects arrive. It is now official, my script is on the list and I will most definitely be pitching today. A wave of nervousness moves through my bowels, or maybe that's just the Dyquil. The doors to the conference room open, the interns gather, its show time!
Due to Father's Day taking place a day earlier, founders Joseph Drake and Nathan Kahane were only present via conference call. What began as a sigh of relief quickly diverged into a much creepier scenario where we were all speaking to an ominous and fiber optic "voice of God". One where expression could only be read via tone. This was especially worrisome for me since my cold made my voice sound like a mixture between Donald Duck and Mushmouth. Little by little, pitch by pitch, the projects were being crossed off the list. My heart starting racing as my script was read from the executive's mouth, it was my turn.
It was time for me to pitch, and man did I pitch the SHIT out of my script. I recited my "lines" like I had been rehearsing them for years. My synopsis and critiques rolled off the tongue like the songs of the most beautiful of birds in the springtime. My final words were PASS, meaning I do not advise Good Universe to invest in developing the script. The executive then turned to an assistant, she had also read the script, in order to get a second opinion. She simply gave him a four word response, "Agree with the pass." I never thought such a short sentence could sound so sweet. And that was that, in 30 seconds it was all over. I didn't receive any medals, I didn't receive any praise, and I didn't even receive a high-five or a pat on the back; all I got was a sense of accomplishment and the realization that I have to do it all again next week, and every week thereafter. And that my friends, is a-okay with me
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