The next morning, I was In the office a little before 10. After checking in with Sarah, I sat in one of the odd angular chairs and looked at the movie posters hung around the lobby. The implication was that the company had been involved with production on a number of well-known films, though I had learned from experience that hanging posters on the wall didn't necessarily mean the company was actually part of the production. I gave them the benefit of the doubt, seeing as I was being hired to work on an actual Bond film.
Some time after 10, there was activity behind the rear door and within a few seconds, the door opened and Andy came out talking excitedly to someone behind him. Andy was in full bloom today, wearing a loud pink nylon shirt – or maybe blouse was a better term – with tan polyester slacks. As he came out into the lobby, several serious looking men followed behind him, then a gorgeous blonde woman, then a man who looked vaguely familiar.
I stared at the last man. He was short and stocky, wearing a tailored suit looking somewhat like a banker or a gangster. In fact, he looked vaguely like Al Capone. He had a receding hairline above a round face deeply creased with full lips. He had a pair of oval wire-rimmed glasses and as he came into the room, he made a show of checking his Rolex watch.
I stared at him for a minute or two. I knew his face, but couldn't place him. As the knot of serious looking people moved into the room, Andy said something about no worries with the name Albert. It flashed on me at that point – it was Albert Broccoli, the producer of the Bond franchise.
Just then, Broccoli looked at me, sitting uncomfortably in the odd chair, with half a beard going and wearing a pair of lineman's shorts and a Polo shirt. He nodded at me with no emotion readable on his face, then back at Andy.
"Corfu is important. That damn yacht is costing me a bundle and I don't want to pay a minute more than I have to," Broccoli said.
Andy was in full solicitous mode, bowing and scraping in his mind if not his body. "We have everything under control, Mr. Broccoli. In fact, the lead carpenter is already here and ready to go," he swung a hand in my direction, as if he were introducing a guest on a talk show.
I stood but didn't move. I didn't want to insinuate myself into a conversation when I had no idea what was going on. Broccoli looked at me again, this time lingering a moment to appraise me.
"Don't let me down," Broccoli said turning back to Andy. "I'll skin you alive and salt you if there's any delays."
Andy laughed half-heartedly. "Well understood, Mr. Broccoli."
There was a round of hand shaking and goodbyes and thank yous, then the group moved out the door. Outside the window, I could see a massive Mercedes limousine at the curb that seemed to have just appeared there. A uniformed man had scampered around the car to open the rear door. Broccoli entered first, then his entourage filed in behind him. The chauffeur scamped back to the driver's seat and the whole scene sped off.
Andy, who had been standing at the door watching the scene, turned back and let out a loud sigh and shut the door.
"Well, that was fun!" he said with clear sarcasm. "Sarah, get that letter off right away and don't forget to deposit the check before lunch. If it clears, we can go to work." He chuckled slightly, then turned to me. "Well, hello darling!"
"Good morning," I replied. "If you're busy I can come back later."
"No, no, no, darling, glad to see you're early. I like early," he said with lots of head wagging and arm waving. "Come, come, let's get your paperwork done," he waved me into the back, then disappeared through the door.
I followed him through the door with a nod to Sarah. I entered a large open area with various scene models, lots of framed photos on the wall of Andy with famous actors and directors. There was a large table in the center of the room, with offices and a conference room along one wall. In the far corner was a staircase leading to the upper floors.
Andy went into the conference room and I followed him in. "Have a seat, Rex, right?"
"Yes," I said pulling out a stuffed leather chair and sitting. Andy pressed a button on a speaker next to the phone on a side table.
"Would you be a dear and bring us some coffee?" he said into the box. A female voice confirmed. "So, my dear friend Bruno says you're top notch."
"I think he was pretty happy with my work on Die Fledermaus," I said. "I just do my job the best I can."
"Wonderful!" he gushed. "My lead carp took a powder and I need someone with a good work ethic and can follow instructions. Are you my man?"
I thought about the wording of the question for a moment. "I can read and follow drawings and I am never late for a call. I've led crews up to five men, and I meet deadlines and specs."
"Stunning, darling! Are you a member of the union?"
My heart sank. I had avoided joining IATSE. I didn't see much value in labor unions. They took a pretty sizable slice of your pay, had a bunch of mostly ridiculous rules about breaks and work hours, and offered very little in return to members, except maybe in disputes. Texas was a right-to-work state and I had worked with union crews many times, and no one had ever complained about my presence or quality of work.
"Not yet," I said, trying to play both sides of the line. "All of the gigs I've had were either non-union or yellow card." Yellow card was a waiver issued by the union that allowed productions to hire non-union crew without causing a strike or other issues.
"Outstanding, darling!" Andy gushed. An attractive young woman entered just then with a pot of coffee, two cups, and cream and sugar on a tray. She placed it on the table between Andy and me and left.
"Help yourself, darling," Andy said indicating the tray. "Would you be willing to join IATSE?"
I paused pouring my coffee. "If I need to for the gig, sure. I'm eligible through Local 51 in Houston. I can give you the contact for the head there."
"Delicious, darling," he gushed. "Let's get you signed up, then. We could probably get a yellow card for you as a hand, but as lead carp, we'd probably get some push-back."
He reached for a folder that was sitting on the table, took out a pile of forms and slid them across to me
"Let's get all the paperwork out of the way," he said. "Your pay scale is nine hundred US, with 25 US per diem paid in cash every Monday. We will put you up and cover transportation and meals during calls. The schedule in Corfu is one month, then you'll shift to Milan for another month."
I was doing quick calculations in my head. This gig would pay me $7,000, and I'd have almost no expenses. I tried to keep my excitement under control and focus on what Andy was saying and the pile of forms in front of me.
Andy was asking, "Do you have a local bank account?"
"Uh, is DeutscheBank considered local?" I asked.
"Of course, darling! Wonderful, so we can transfer your paychecks directly if you authorize it," he said, reaching over to the stack of papers and pulling out the authorization form. "Just give us your account number and your pay will be deposited every Friday morning."
I was blown away. I had never worked at this level and all this information was a bit overwhelming. I was trying to play nonchalant to come across as seasoned professional, but inside I was terrified. I had no idea if I could pull this off, and would I have a future if I screwed it up?
"One more thing before I leave you to fill out all this paper," Andy said, jumping up and going out into the open area, taking three document tubes and coming back into the conference room. I noticed that there were now several other people milling around and filling up the other offices.
Andy came back in the room and pulled out a roll of documents from one of the tubes. He laid them out on the table. The drawings were of a row of buildings. There were dotted squares around various sections of the buildings, with a number in the top right corner of each. The title block said FOR YOUR EYES ONLY, CORFU MARINA.
"Tell me what you see," Andy said.
I examined the drawing and selected the first dotted box on the left – Number 10-710a. I thumbed through the other drawings and found the one labeled with that number. I flipped over the other pages and looked at it. It was a single building from the larger drawing, showing changes to the building façade with notations for paint colors.
"So, there are several units that need to be applied to the front of the building and that need to match the existing architecture. These notations show the colors for paint and these over here show what materials are needed and the finished textures." I continued scanning the drawing and it all looked fairly basic carpentry. "Do we need to paint, as well?"
"Oh no, darling," Andy said. "The scene paiters will follow your crew around. Your job is to prioritize construction and make sure everything meets the specs here," he said waving his hand over the drawings.
"This looks pretty basic. I need to study them more, but it doesn't look overly complex," I said.
"Wonderful, darling," he effused. "You need to be sure you don't do too much damage to the existing structures. We have to pay for any damages. Also, you won't need to worry about strike. We have a remediation crew that will clean up after the shoot."
"Understood," I confirmed. This was going to be a gravy job, I thought, unless there were surprises hiding in the other drawings. "I'll need to study these more," I said.
"Of course, darling" Andy replied. "Get your paperwork done and you'll have the rest of the week to study up. You'll fly out next Tuesday, so plenty of time to get ready."
"OK, great," I said, as Andy rolled up the drawings and sliding them back in the tube.
"If you want more coffee, just let Sarah know," he said indicating the call box he had used earlier. "Here's a pen and good luck, darling! Let's move you to one of the offices so you cn get to work."
Andy opened the door and called out, "Michael! Do be a darling and get Rex settled into an office." He turned back to me and smiled. "Anything else?"
"Um, not at the moment. Looks like I have my work cut out for me."
"Lovely!"
Michael came into the room and took up the tubes, while the woman who had brought the coffee earlier came in and took the tray. We walked out and down the row of offices until we came to an empty one with a poster of The Rocky Horror Picture Show on the wall.
"Here you are," Michael said. "I'll see to it you get the standard office supplies. Do you need anyting specific?" he asked.
"Not at the moment," I said. "It will take some time to fill out all these forms, I think."
Michael smiled as he palced the tubes on the credenza and the woman set the coffee tray on the desk. "Let me know if you need anything. My office is next to Andy's at the corner," he said, pointing in the general direction. "If you want coffee, just let Sarah know," he indicated the talk box next to the phone. I got the feeling coffee was somewhat of a sacrament around the office.
"Thank you very much. I appreciate it," I said, with genuine gratitude. They both left, pulling the door closed behind them.
I looked around. My first office. I was starting to get very nervous. Another part of me, though, was thinking I could get used to this boss routine – office, coffee service, people asking my opinions and taking them (apparently) seriously. I didn't know what Bruno and Max liked, in fact I hadn't spent any personal time with them, but I made a mental note to bring them gifts for this opportunity.
I sat down in the well-padded swivel chair, took a moment to look around the room, then turned to the pile of forms in front of me. It looked rather daunting, especially since the top form was labelled CREDIT LISTING. Below the heading were two lines with the instructions, "Please give your precise name and title as you would like it to appear in the credits."
My mind flashed to sitting in a cinema with Uta during the closing credits for a major film and everyone cheering as my name scrolled past. I felt my ego start to swell, but I choked it back. I needed to do the work long before any of that could happen.
Uta…
I picked up the pen and started to go through the forms.