Truth in Advertising Page 0,20
day, one beautiful human interaction. It was her idea, something her parents used to do with her when she was little.
She says, “So this kid gets on the train. Tough looking. Wearing this baggy suit. He sits across from a dandyish guy. You get the sense the kid has a job interview or something. He has a tie around his neck. He starts trying to tie it. But it’s obvious the kid has no idea how to do it. The dandy’s watching the kid. Says something to him in Spanish. I’m thinking there’s gonna be a fight. Only, the kid says something back, sort of . . . meek. The dandy says something and the kid hands him the tie. The guy ties it, talking the whole time. Undoes it, ties it again, then hands it to the kid. Dandy got off at the next stop. I love New York.”
“That’s really nice.”
Phoebe says, “You?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“That’s not the game. The game is that there’s at least one beautiful thing that happens to you every day.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Think harder.”
It takes me several seconds, but it comes to me sharp and clear.
“I was walking to the subway this morning. Early. Like five thirty. To get to the shoot. And there’s one of those guys, the Ready, Willing and Able guys. Former homeless people, guys just out of prison. You know these guys? The city puts them to work sweeping and cleaning. Anyway, he’s swapping out a huge bag of trash and putting in a new empty bag, and there’s this homeless guy sleeping in a corner, by a subway grate. The heat from them, right? This homeless guy is curled into a ball. The cleaning guy walks up to him. I’m sure he’s going to wake him up, tell him to move on. Except . . . he takes his jacket off. This uniform jacket. And puts it over the guy.”
Phoebe says, “I like that. See, you just have to look. Beauty is everywhere.”
“Thank you, Oprah. Now go to sleep.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. Did you call your brother?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow.”
• • •
It’s early the next morning and the office is quiet.
Someone has put up politically correct holiday decorations, limited—by an agency committee comprised of deeply serious human resources people—to snowflakes, snowpeople, and sleds. Except at Denise Muniari’s desk, which looks like a mini Rockefeller Center around the holidays. She has a small tree in front of her desk with lights and ornaments on it. She also has a miniature manger, with tiny figurines of Mary, Joseph, the three Wise Men, animals, and, of course, the birthday boy. Denise is the creative department’s manager and believes, as she once told me, “It’s Merry fucking Christmas, not Happy fucking Holidays. I have the utmost respect for Jews, Fin. God knows they’ve been through a lot. But don’t rain on my baby Jesus birthday parade.”
I hear music, faintly. It gets louder the closer I get to my office. I stop outside the office, in the hallway, and listen as Paulie plays the guitar and sings.
I stand at the door. Paulie looks up and smiles.
Paulie says, “Fin D. What up, my brother?”
“Hey, Paulie.”
“How was L.A.?”
“Didn’t go. Shot at Silvercup instead.”
“Bummer. Who wants to go to Queens in December?”
“Who wants to go to Queens ever?”
“I thought you took the red-eye back. I love the red-eye, Fin D.”
“Really? Can’t stand it myself.”
“No, man. I love the idea of going to sleep on one coast and waking up on another. Check this out. It took the Donner party five months from Springfield, Illinois, to reach the foot of the Sierra Nevadas. Imagine that. Five months. And yet we traverse the continent, with a nice glass of tomato juice and a magazine, in under six hours.”
I say, “The modern world is an amazing place, Paulie.”
“I guess,” Paulie says, still smiling. “Mostly it’s just louder and faster.”
“You’re in early.”
“Can’t sleep lately. Plus I like it here when it’s quiet. So how was Gwyneth?”
“Couldn’t be nicer. Couldn’t be lovelier. She’s rich and beautiful and successful and happy. Like all of us.”
I turn to leave and Paulie says, “Oh, hey, Fin man, I almost forgot. That NVD spot is up for an award. We found out from the account team.” He chuckles. “You bastards.”
About a year ago Ian and I helped Paulie and Stefano out with a project. Our group also works on a pharmaceutical account (indigestion pill and depression/anxiety medication). The company had a