Here is the rest of the story of the days I almost joined the merciless world of jet-set. In case some of you think the interview is to come, I have to disappoint, we are actually talking about the chronicle which was on air last week on France Inter [1]. It’s like a flash-back, backward zoom on a founding even, you see [2]?
Come on, let’s go back in time…
Tuesday
– 8h00: I buy my newspaper at a kiosk next door. I’m wondering if I’ll still do this after. The vendor barely looks at me. Poor thing, when he’ll know, he’ll surely regret not paying me more attention.
– 8h25: I climb in the 47.
– 8h26: I’ll still take the bus, that’s for sure. I don’t what to cut myself off from real people. It’s my inspiration.
– 8h35: An old lady stands in front of me, with a nasty look. She wants to sit. Can’t wait to have my own driver, real people are a pain.
– 9h00: I get to my office, all my colleagues are there, working, as if nothing were happening. My boss points out that I’m on time and it calls for celebration. Poor thing, when he’ll know.
– 9h45: What’s the point to keep working? In a few days, I’ll simply have to choose between TV and feminine press. I feel it will be difficult to decide. All I know is TF1 [3] never. Mougeotte [4], drop it, you’ll never have my soul. No but anyway I’ve always felt ‘very Canal [5]’. Daphne, Mlle Agnes [6] and others, you’ll have to squeeze on the fame bench, I’m coming…
– 11h00: I think I’ll go for a massage, right now. I can’t face my colleagues, hiding the truth from them is too hard. And I have loads of tensions in my body. Can’t wait to have a coach. It is said that Sophie Marceau’s do wonders.
– 15h00: My boss wants to speak to me. Does he suspect something?
– 18h00: I dash off hugging the walls. I need to find a proper outfit for the interview.
– 20h00: The man doesn’t seem to understand that I needed 120 euros Repetto ballet pumps for the interview. He shouts the words ‘telephone’ and ‘radio’, as if there were a link.
– 20h30: “But of course it is linked!” he vociferates.
– 23h00: I can’t sleep, I mentally repeat my text, I’m scared.
Wednesday
– 6h00: It’s the big day. Glory is waiting.
– 7h00: My toilets are also waiting. I’m sick to death. Becoming a star is also about that. After all, Adjani vomits before each of her entry on stage …
– 7h00: Ok, diarrhea is less glamour.
– 8h15: I prefer light makeup, I feel D. likes natural women.
– 13h00: I slip away from the office and wait at home for THE phone call that will change my life.
– 15h00: D. hasn’t called yet.
– 15h30: I check for the 30th time that the phone is indeed plugged. Maybe my provider is down. We should NEVER have chosen that one. It was a mistake.
– 16h00: I call the man and thank him for choosing to change our provider a few months before I’m given a unique chance to make my way in the media world. I warn him I won’t forgive him for wasting my life changing opportunity. All that to save a few cents. It lacks magnanimity. Yes, perfectly. We have to stop playing small.
– 16h01: Second call waiting.
– 16h02: I’m struggling to take that waiting call.
– 16h03: Before R1 then R2 was working, shit. I mentally prepare a punishing trip to our provider.
– 16h04: The call drops.
– 16h06: All my nails are gone. I’m about to start with phalanx when the phone rings again.
– 16h07. It’s him. D.
– 16h08: I’m out of breath. I’m sitting, I haven’t moved for the past three hours and I’m out of breath.
– 16h10: My pulse is over 150 per minute. So I’m bound to need oxygen.
– 16h12: I breathe from my belly.
– 16h13: I finally manage to express myself. The more I speak about me, the more interesting I find myself.
– 16h15: I love it, D. sounds fascinated by my life. It’s a thousand times better than my last session with my killjoy of a shrink. And you don’t pay at the end. However hard I search, I can’t find any bad side to my new life.
– 16h16: D. and I can’t stop laughing, it’s incredible what’s happening.
– 16h17: He tells me my voice is great for radio. I’m dying to ask him to pull strings for me. But I won’t do it, I have my dignity and it would waste everything.
– 16h18: “Hire me. I’ll pay you. I have a saving account”.
– 16h20: D. explains a bit embarrassed that he himself is freelance and he doesn’t know the boss personally.
– 16h22: D. asks me to stop crying.
– 16h23: We finally hang up and I feel it’s not easy for D. to leave me. I promise to call him back very soon. He says he prefers leaving some time. Poor thing. He knows deep down, I’m already far away. I’ll never forget he was the first to give me a chance.
– 16h24: I send an email to D. to thank him for this magical moment. I ask him to let me know when the show will be broadcasted.
– 20h55: Message from D.: “OK, will let you know. Not before two weeks. Other priorities before. D. ”
– 21h00: This man is broken.
Two weeks later…
Thursday
– 10h00: Message from D. “You’re on tomorrow. Later. D.”
– 10h10: This man has such elegance… coming back to me when he is suffering. Hats off.
– 10h12: The 122 persons I know on this planet are all aware I’ll be on the radio tomorrow. Recognition is tomorrow.
Friday
– 6h12: The alarm goes off an hour earlier than usually. It’s dark outside. You’d think we’re leaving for a ski outing. The man puts the radio on.
– 6h18: In two minutes I’ll be known worldwide. For now I feel exactly the same.
– 6h20: My head is right next to the man’s chest so I can’t hear very well. But a hug is nice. Even when you’re famous.
– 6h21: That’s it. It’s my turn. I can’t recognize my voice. I feel weird.
– 6h24: The news presenter will read an extract of my blog. Wow. It’s “Apostrophe [7]“, my word!
– 6h25: I can’t believe it. I’m chagrined. 345 articles on my blog. And she had to choose the one about firemen. About firemen’s ass more precisely. You don’t become famous talking about firemen’s ass. No one EVER became famous checking out firemen’s ass. So long calf, cow, pig. The milk pot of fame just broke in thousands of pieces with sirens in the background.
– 6h26: The man holds me tight. He can’t stop laughing because of the firemen. He says he is proud. He says he loves me. He says there are fourteen minutes before the alarm goes off again…
[1] TN: French radio station
[2] TN: in English in the original text
[3] TN: TF1 is a French private TV channel.
[4] TN: Etienne Mougeotte was TF1’s director.
[5] TN: Canal, aka Canal +, is another private French TV channel
[6] TN: Presenters who started their career on Canal +.
[7] TN: French TV show about literature.
