MY FIFTEEN SECONDS

So late last night, my dear friend Katy called me to catch up. Like a password into a secret club, we asked the obligatory question:

“You still jobless?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Yeah.”

Had the answer been “No” the conversation would have quickly ended there. The thing about being jobless is it becomes difficult to relate to people with a pay check (unless, of course they’re offering to buy you food). We immediately started playing the “Whose has the Bleakest Job Prospects” game. Katy won when she divulged that she had worked as a camera-person for the Loudoun County Access Television channel twice in the last month.  Her story reminded me of an event that transpired only a few short weeks before.

I had returned to New York for a couple of days for a job interview. After meeting a Broadway casting director who would later describe me as “quiet and hard to read," I called my friend Kathy to see if she wanted to go to the Met.  We spent the afternoon there, and afterwards we returned to my apartment and collapsed underneath the AC unit.  I grabbed the remote and began flipping through the TV channels, until I came across the most awesome show ever made.

I was no stranger to New York Cable Access. Late at night, it provides the lowest quality  pornography the City has to offer. While these shows aren’t exactly “arousing,” they make for good drinking games. “Drink anytime Robin Byrd licks her own nipple.” “Drink any time the phrase dirty horny slut Asian nurses is used.”  Watching it during the day, however, was a completely new experience. We found what I believe was called "The Bob and Carol Hour."  Carol, with her bleached permed hair, and Bob with his pleated shorts, sat in metal folding chairs in front of a grey sheet and beside some piece of large computer equipment. There, they covered all the day’s pressing issues, like cab drivers who don't speak English, and why going to the dentist is the worst.  They delivered their banter straight into the camera, with their heads locked into position like one of those talking animatronic bears you see on an amusement park ride. The discussion went a little something like this:

Carol- So in news today, I see that Brangelina had its baby. I bet they name it something stupid.
Bob- What’s the deal with celebrities naming their children stupid names?
Both- HAHAHAHAHA.
Carol- You’re funny.
Bob- Thanks. Now, moving onto our next topic...

I was completely enthralled.  Kathy, apparently lacking the my enthusiasm for really bad television, got up and said "I'm going to the bathroom.  When I get back, this shit better be off the TV."

It was around this time that they started flashing a number at the bottom of the screen. Bob and Carol, having just shared their observations on how taxicab drivers don’t speak English very well, were now taking their first caller. I quickly grabbed the phone and repeatably dialed.  Once, twice, five times, six.  The phone just rang each time.  And just when I was about to give up, I heard the line beep in. What was I going to say? Something witty and clever no doubt. Something hysterical that I could tell everyone at cocktail parties. Something that I could send into “Life in these United States.” It was going to be something so incredibly funny and perfect that it would be what the entire city of New York would talk about the next day.

About this time Kathy walked out of the bathroom. “What are you doing?” she asked.  I froze.

“Hello?” Bob asked. It was my moment to shine, but my mind was completely blank.  The silence on the TV program was deafening.  Kathy was standing over me, completely confused why I was holding a phone and staring at the TV.  I was kicking myself for having had the genius idea to call into this completely awful show, but not having the foresight to plan what I was going to say. I had had the brilliant I had to think of something.  Anything. 

“Um...." I finally sputtered out.  "...Is...um....Is...Kathy there?” It was the best I could do. Kathy - hearing my voice being projected from the television muttered "Holy shit."

Bob and Carol looked at each other confused, but then mischievously snickered when they saw the possibility for high-jinx.  I had put them on the spot by pretending to have called the number, which they took as an opportunity to use as a platform to show the greater NYC area their improvisational prowess.  


They both started to speak at the same time, but Bob spoke louder and said “Uh...Kathy’s not here!” They both laughed, covering their mouths to prevent their chuckles from being heard on the other line.

“Oh,” I said, “That's so weird.  Kathy gave me this number and told me to call her. Let me make sure I dialed the right number," to which I read them back the number at the bottom of the screen. 

Bob bit his bottom lip as an attempt to muffle his laughter.  He then corrected himself.  “Kathy is here...she just can’t come to the phone right now. Can we take a message?” I imagined how riveting this exchange must have been for the tens of viewers tuned in. 

I had taken the conversation as far as I could.  With nothing else to say, I ended by saying, “Wait, this isn't right. This is the wrong number, isn't it?  Screw you guys.” Bob and Carol were stumbling over one another to come up with a witty retort as I hung up the phone.    They stopped mid-sentence, looked at one another and laughed one last time.  "That reminds me. Don’t you hate telemarketers?” Bob continued.  Thus putting an end to my fifteen minutes of fame.  


Kathy was staring at me with a grimace on her face.  "What the hell was that?"
"I was trying to be funny" I told her. 
"Not your best material" she said.  We agreed, and decided to leave the comedy in the more capable hands of Bob and Carol.