After several attempts at trying to get hold of the apparently extremely busy Mr. McMahon, Jessica finally managed to convince the receptionist that she wasn't some crazed fan.
"One moment please, I'll put you through to his office..."
The phone began to ring again and was answered by a fairly high-pitched voice.
"Good morning, Vincent K McMahon's office, how may I help you?" The woman's tone was a strange combination of mock pleasantry and an unmasked lack of enthusiasm, as if to say 'thanks for calling but I wish you hadn't'.
Jessica decided that, unless Mr McMahon was wearing very tight pants that day, this was another one of those damn secretaries. What the hell did they think she was going to do? Strangle him over the telephone?!
"Hi, I'm calling for Mr. McMahon. He left a message on my machine..." Jessica began.
"I'm afraid Mr. McMahon is in a meeting at the moment. What is it that you're calling about?" the voice interrupted. In a meeting? Yeah, she'd heard that one before - "Mr. Cameron is at a press conference. Send us some of your work and I'm sure he'll take a look at it and give you a few pointers." Yeah sure. James Cameron, director of Titanic, was going to take a look at her video tape. That's why it reappeared in her mailbox unopened the following week. As far as Jessica was concerned 'being in a meeting' meant a guy was sat on his ass signing a few papers.
"It's Jessica Roberts, he asked me about making a video for one of his employees."
"Oh yes, he's been expecting your call. I'll put you through to his cell phone." the woman said in a somewhat more cheerful manner.
Ringing again...and ringing...and ringing...and ringing....
"Yes?" This time a male voice responded to her call.
Jessica paused for a moment. She had half expected to be confronted with yet another of the businessman's telephone bodyguards. So this was the infamous Vince McMahon. The guy who paid over-developed muscle-bags without a brain cell between them to throw each other around in tights with sweat socks strategically positioned beneath their costumes to 'enhance' certain areas. What an honour.
"Hi, this is Jessica Roberts. You called me about making a video for you," she explained.
There was silence for a few seconds, besides a faint sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, backed up by the echoing of men's voices shouting to one another.
"Ah, yes! Of course. Sorry about that, I have so damn much on my mind...." he mumbled as though he was talking to himself rather than her. "Well I saw one of your documentaries. Something about youths in New York. I liked the style so I want to offer you the opportunity to produce an in-depth documentary about one of our biggest stars. The pay will be quite substantial, needless to say, but we'll talk about that later. I'm assuming you're a fan?"
Jessica could sense her heart beating that little bit harder, that little bit faster and hoped he couldn't. She had two choices - tell the truth, lose the job and continue living this pathetic lifestyle, or pose as a dedicated WWE fan, get the job, get the money, get noticed, get the hell out of there. Without hesitation or conscience she selected the dishonest option.
"Of course. I love the WWE!" she replied so convincingly that she impressed even herself, which wasn't an easy task by any means.
"Ah...good," he said in such a voice that she could almost picture his smile. Not that she knew what he looked like. "Well, I'm next in New York in 3 days time. I can talk to you any time between 9 and 11am on Wednesday. We have a small office used for conferences behind the scenes in The World...is that ok?"
"Yeah that'd be fine. Thanks very much, Mr. McMahon. Ok, goodbye!"
Jessica put the phone down and slumped downwards in her seat. So she had 3 days to know everything there is to know about World Wrestling Entertainment. Finally all those nights of tagging along with teenage gangs were going to pay off! She knew just the guy to ask.
"One moment please, I'll put you through to his office..."
The phone began to ring again and was answered by a fairly high-pitched voice.
"Good morning, Vincent K McMahon's office, how may I help you?" The woman's tone was a strange combination of mock pleasantry and an unmasked lack of enthusiasm, as if to say 'thanks for calling but I wish you hadn't'.
Jessica decided that, unless Mr McMahon was wearing very tight pants that day, this was another one of those damn secretaries. What the hell did they think she was going to do? Strangle him over the telephone?!
"Hi, I'm calling for Mr. McMahon. He left a message on my machine..." Jessica began.
"I'm afraid Mr. McMahon is in a meeting at the moment. What is it that you're calling about?" the voice interrupted. In a meeting? Yeah, she'd heard that one before - "Mr. Cameron is at a press conference. Send us some of your work and I'm sure he'll take a look at it and give you a few pointers." Yeah sure. James Cameron, director of Titanic, was going to take a look at her video tape. That's why it reappeared in her mailbox unopened the following week. As far as Jessica was concerned 'being in a meeting' meant a guy was sat on his ass signing a few papers.
"It's Jessica Roberts, he asked me about making a video for one of his employees."
"Oh yes, he's been expecting your call. I'll put you through to his cell phone." the woman said in a somewhat more cheerful manner.
Ringing again...and ringing...and ringing...and ringing....
"Yes?" This time a male voice responded to her call.
Jessica paused for a moment. She had half expected to be confronted with yet another of the businessman's telephone bodyguards. So this was the infamous Vince McMahon. The guy who paid over-developed muscle-bags without a brain cell between them to throw each other around in tights with sweat socks strategically positioned beneath their costumes to 'enhance' certain areas. What an honour.
"Hi, this is Jessica Roberts. You called me about making a video for you," she explained.
There was silence for a few seconds, besides a faint sound of his breathing on the other end of the line, backed up by the echoing of men's voices shouting to one another.
"Ah, yes! Of course. Sorry about that, I have so damn much on my mind...." he mumbled as though he was talking to himself rather than her. "Well I saw one of your documentaries. Something about youths in New York. I liked the style so I want to offer you the opportunity to produce an in-depth documentary about one of our biggest stars. The pay will be quite substantial, needless to say, but we'll talk about that later. I'm assuming you're a fan?"
Jessica could sense her heart beating that little bit harder, that little bit faster and hoped he couldn't. She had two choices - tell the truth, lose the job and continue living this pathetic lifestyle, or pose as a dedicated WWE fan, get the job, get the money, get noticed, get the hell out of there. Without hesitation or conscience she selected the dishonest option.
"Of course. I love the WWE!" she replied so convincingly that she impressed even herself, which wasn't an easy task by any means.
"Ah...good," he said in such a voice that she could almost picture his smile. Not that she knew what he looked like. "Well, I'm next in New York in 3 days time. I can talk to you any time between 9 and 11am on Wednesday. We have a small office used for conferences behind the scenes in The World...is that ok?"
"Yeah that'd be fine. Thanks very much, Mr. McMahon. Ok, goodbye!"
Jessica put the phone down and slumped downwards in her seat. So she had 3 days to know everything there is to know about World Wrestling Entertainment. Finally all those nights of tagging along with teenage gangs were going to pay off! She knew just the guy to ask.