October 08, 2005
Smoke 'Em Out Of Their Souls
Imagine you are a talent agent in Hollywood who was once a model and a fashion model agent and lived all over the world. You’re now in your forties and you have two kids who run you ragged and you run your business by yourself and you’re always tired. You are savvy and smart and you are a real person with a real life.
Imagine you are this woman and you see a commercial casting breakdown for Nicoderm come through the wires looking for real people who have quit smoking or tried to quit smoking or are looking to quit smoking. You are looking to quit smoking. You call the casting director directly because you deal with her all the time and you pitch yourself. While telling this casting director you want to go on the call yourself, you think – not only do I want to quit smoking but also it pays well and I want to move out of this crap house that found a cockroach in my daughter’s bed this morning. The casting director says sure, of course, come on down.
Imagine that you get dolled up, put on makeup, look your best and go to this casting call for Nicoderm. Imagine being called into the casting room with five other people and lined up on a row of chairs in front of a camera. Imagine the casting assistant who makes $500 a week to run the camera and ask the questions, behind the camera, camera rolling, asking questions. “How many of you still smoke?” You are the only one to feebly raise your hand. The casting assistant asks the quitters how long, how much, how’d you quit, etc. The casting assistant comes back to you and asks, “How many cigarettes a day do you smoke?” You tell him – five, sometimes maybe ten, it depends on the day. He asks, “Why do you smoke?” You tell him, camera rolling, that you run your own business, your kids run you ragged, you’re really stressed out, you’re in pain because you have severe neck and back problems and sometimes the only thing that makes you feel a little better is a smoke. The casting assistant asks you why you want to quit. You tell him because of your kids. That it makes you feel bad that you smoke in front of them and they don’t like it and they tell you they don’t like it. The casting assistant asks, “What do your kids say?” You tell him and the camera, “They say ‘mommy you’re going to die’.”
Imagine that you’ve confessed this all honestly and sincerely and maybe somewhere inside you’re secretly thinking, damn, I’ve nailed this one. Then imagine that the casting assistant who DOES NOT WORK FOR NICODERM and who doesn’t know you from Adam, turns off the camera and points his finger at you and says with antagonizing asshole authority, “You need to quit smoking.” At first you nod, agreeing but he continues. “You have kids!” He’s in your face. “This is an intervention! You need to quit smoking.” Imagine yourself thinking, did he just say that to me – this is an intervention? Then imagine before you know it you are sobbing there in front of these strangers feeling worthless and about two inches tall. Sobbing.
Imagine the lady next to you then leaning in to say, “Honey, you want my last piece of Nicorette gum? You can have it.” That’s when you get up and run crying out of the room, out of the office, out of the building.
I imagine if that were me I’d have wanted to ask that guy who the hell he was and where the hidden cameras were and where my intervening family was and tell him to go ef himself and tell that little lady who lives on a pack a day of nicotine gum to do the same - and then I imagine the first thing I'd want to do is go light up.
That’s what I’d imagine.
Posted by nora murphy at October 8, 2005 09:14 AM | TrackBack|