May I Be Of Assistance?

When I was a fancy, Hollywood personal assistant the cell phone was the size of a loaf of Wonder Bread and the lowly assistant had to use pay phones and dirty dimes to check in with the star and make sure she had all her i's dotted and t's crossed. My car was not an Escalade, as so beautifully depicted in this 31 second, out of touch, insultingly misguided window into Adam in Wonderland I have provided for your enjoyment. No, my vehicle of valor was a 1978 Datsun B-210 in a gorgeous and rust-tinged, Avocado green and the closest I ever got to a private jet was looking up into the skies over a random canyon as I waited patiently for one of three dingy dogs belonging to an absent actress, to poop on a patch of grass so I could pick it up and cry inside.

I didn't get health insurance or a company car or enough money to wear a fancy coffee-colored leather jacket as the hipster slave in the video below. If I was lucky I got awkward, stretched out, hand-me-downs that consisted of cheap sun dresses and lopsided J. Peterman slacks once worn for an Entertainment Tonight interview in close-up and old pancake make-up I loved like an orphan loves a stained stuffed animal. The long, luxurious grocery lists included three hundred dollar pantyhose and fifty dollar bottles of cabernet for monologue-hungry maniacs while my rent checks wobbled and my tears formed every fortnight.

Maybe if I were shlepping around L.A. picking up designer dry cleaning and purchasing overpriced baby lettuce and Lanvin leggings with the new Blackberry Personal Assistant App my life as a jet-setting janitor would have been  a thousand times more cool. But I highly doubt it.

I do miss the buckets of free Bic pens and unlimited access to Post-It Notes and printer paper. Maybe they have an App for that.