This isn't the weirdest thing that ever happened to me, but it is a triumphant one. I had a photo shoot for the magazine I edited at the Edison Home in Fort Myers, and my boss (so so toxic) had suggested that I enlist a frenemy of mine as my stylist. Frenemy helped me arrange for some women to show up in their real wedding dresses. So the morning of the shoot I'm driving down a two-lane road in my 20-year-old convertible with $80,000 worth of jewelry and I get this, Oh, everything is going great! message from frenemy. So I show up, and two of the women have dropped out, which is supposed to leave no choice but for me to put on the cover a spoiled heiress who GOT KICKED OUT OF THIS SAME WEDDING VENUE WHERE SHE WAS GOING TO MARRY AND BANNED FOR LIFE and who was once engaged to my ex-boyfriend (not the same engagement). Anyway, in a spirit of Judy Garland, etc., I turn to the spunky and kind young wedding planner at the estate and ask for her help. She helps enlist more brides, finds a place for a model to show up, grabs flowers, just makes miracles happen. So I get back to the office, and my editor is smirking, and she asks how it went, I was like, Oh my God, these pix are going to be so great, and she starts turning red in the face, and says, "Well, I heard you had to change plans," and I was like, mmmhmm, that's the business, and she SCREAMS, "THIS ALL COULD HAVE GONE BADLY FOR YOU," and without missing a beat, I said, "Did you ever think that after all I've been through, Baby Jesus owed me a favor and I so graciously granted it to my day job?" She was SPEECHLESS.
This reminds me so much of another Tracy story that I have told a million times over the years because it so impressed me. How you would sandbag debate team boys by reading romance novels in the waiting room, prompting them to wildly underestimate you based on stereotypes. And then, Ka-bam! You’d dismantle them in the competition. My Shero!
Ha, I can't believe that you remembered that story :) My old boyfriend (the heiress-adjacent one) once said, "People underestimate your instinct for self-preservation." Love you!
This is not my story but the phrase “put out your hands” brought it to mind. Caveat: this is double hearsay so I can’t vouch for it personally. Every word is qualified by “ALLEGEDLY”.
A friend of a friend worked as an exterminator in NYC in the 80s. The dispatcher told him to go to a townhouse on the Upper West Side to deal with a cockroach problem. So far, totally plausible.
He knocks on the door. Mick Jagger opens it. Again plausible because Mick lived in that neighborhood at that time.
Mick gives him the details and the guy gets to work.
“OK Mick, I’m done.”
Awkward silence.
Now anyone who has done work for rich, famous people knows that getting paid in full is not a given. Some of them believe the “honor” of serving them is compensation enough. But I digress.
“Ah Mick, it’s 80 bucks.”
“Right, right. Wait here. I’ll be right back!”
After a few minutes, Mick returns.
“Hold out your hands!”
The exterminator complies.
Mick proceeds to pour a helping of pot into our protagonist’s cupped hands.
“Now...we’re even!”
“Yeah, thanks Mick”.
Did this really happen? I don’t know. But given Mick’s documented reputation for....economy, it is possible. In any case, a great story IMO.
This isn't the weirdest thing that ever happened to me, but it is a triumphant one. I had a photo shoot for the magazine I edited at the Edison Home in Fort Myers, and my boss (so so toxic) had suggested that I enlist a frenemy of mine as my stylist. Frenemy helped me arrange for some women to show up in their real wedding dresses. So the morning of the shoot I'm driving down a two-lane road in my 20-year-old convertible with $80,000 worth of jewelry and I get this, Oh, everything is going great! message from frenemy. So I show up, and two of the women have dropped out, which is supposed to leave no choice but for me to put on the cover a spoiled heiress who GOT KICKED OUT OF THIS SAME WEDDING VENUE WHERE SHE WAS GOING TO MARRY AND BANNED FOR LIFE and who was once engaged to my ex-boyfriend (not the same engagement). Anyway, in a spirit of Judy Garland, etc., I turn to the spunky and kind young wedding planner at the estate and ask for her help. She helps enlist more brides, finds a place for a model to show up, grabs flowers, just makes miracles happen. So I get back to the office, and my editor is smirking, and she asks how it went, I was like, Oh my God, these pix are going to be so great, and she starts turning red in the face, and says, "Well, I heard you had to change plans," and I was like, mmmhmm, that's the business, and she SCREAMS, "THIS ALL COULD HAVE GONE BADLY FOR YOU," and without missing a beat, I said, "Did you ever think that after all I've been through, Baby Jesus owed me a favor and I so graciously granted it to my day job?" She was SPEECHLESS.
This reminds me so much of another Tracy story that I have told a million times over the years because it so impressed me. How you would sandbag debate team boys by reading romance novels in the waiting room, prompting them to wildly underestimate you based on stereotypes. And then, Ka-bam! You’d dismantle them in the competition. My Shero!
Ha, I can't believe that you remembered that story :) My old boyfriend (the heiress-adjacent one) once said, "People underestimate your instinct for self-preservation." Love you!
Oh that is truly one of my all-time favorite stories. Unforgettable! Love you!
This is not my story but the phrase “put out your hands” brought it to mind. Caveat: this is double hearsay so I can’t vouch for it personally. Every word is qualified by “ALLEGEDLY”.
A friend of a friend worked as an exterminator in NYC in the 80s. The dispatcher told him to go to a townhouse on the Upper West Side to deal with a cockroach problem. So far, totally plausible.
He knocks on the door. Mick Jagger opens it. Again plausible because Mick lived in that neighborhood at that time.
Mick gives him the details and the guy gets to work.
“OK Mick, I’m done.”
Awkward silence.
Now anyone who has done work for rich, famous people knows that getting paid in full is not a given. Some of them believe the “honor” of serving them is compensation enough. But I digress.
“Ah Mick, it’s 80 bucks.”
“Right, right. Wait here. I’ll be right back!”
After a few minutes, Mick returns.
“Hold out your hands!”
The exterminator complies.
Mick proceeds to pour a helping of pot into our protagonist’s cupped hands.
“Now...we’re even!”
“Yeah, thanks Mick”.
Did this really happen? I don’t know. But given Mick’s documented reputation for....economy, it is possible. In any case, a great story IMO.
Allen! I am accepting this story as true. Hilarious. Thank you.