So a bunch of days ago I was scheduled to drive up to Los Angeles for a couple of meetings. That morning, however, my wife was sick, so I needed to cancel. I fired off an e-mail to my first appointment, and the people were very understanding.
Then I wrote a quickie to the second guy, who was slated to meet me at a coffee shop at 4 that afternoon. This is what I sent, just after noon …
Now, I will admit (in hindsight) the note was quick and sans emotion. However, my wife was hacking up a lung, my plans were demolished, I had to schedule for my kids. Anyone with kids or a dog or infirmed parents or … a life to live knows these things happen, and on occasion you fire off the quick note saying, “Oy, sorry.”
This was the reply:
It got a bit nastier, then ended.
But the strangest part—like, the strangest, strangest, strangest part—is I still have no real idea who this guy in. There is a Steve Cody on IMDB, but he hasn’t worked in forever. This Stephen Cody told me, in earlier messages, that his neighbor had been Burt Reynolds, that he attending acting school with a childhood friend of Roger Clemens, that he likes golf (he belongs to RV—whatever that is), has a John Oates hookup and is married to J.J. Abrams’ writing partner.
Apparently, he also doesn’t take to being stood up too well.