What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done at work? An accidental “reply all”, perhaps, or an indiscreet word about about a colleague who turned out to be standing behind you?
Well, allow those haunting memories to fade into the background as you take in this, one of the biggest clangers ever dropped in an office.
The story comes courtesy of Quinn Cummings, a writer and former actor who at one time worked with notorious agent Susan Smith.
Gather round, Gentle Readers. It is time I tell the story of the worst decision I ever made in an office. Some of you have heard this. Some have not. Whatever you do in your office today, this week, the rest of this year, you can console yourself by recalling this tale.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
A long time ago, I was a talent agent. I worked for a woman named Susan Smith, who had her own small boutique agency. She was known for three things:
1. She had fantastic taste in clients. If there is someone you admire, odds are good that at some point, she was their agent,
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
2. She could negotiate a deal like few who have ever trod the earth. Casting would give her all the money they had budgeted for that part, plus a little more, plus promising to get her dog Barnaby groomed. She was magnificent to watch.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
3. She was insane.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
I'm sure you're thinking, "Quinn, it's the entertainment industry, they are all insane." Yes, many are. So consider this; if you told someone you worked for Susan, people who worked for insane people would look and you and whisper, "I hear she's insane."
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
Volatile, capable off toggling between rage-screaming and whispered tears in 90 seconds. An unerring instinct at knowing exactly what you doubted about yourself and musing aloud about it. A level of vitriol to subordinates that was outlawed by the 13th Amendment.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
She went through assistants with comical speed. One young man – who had endured the rigors of law school – went to "move his car" after ninety minutes on her desk and never came back.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
I was her assistant for six months. If I hear a phone that sounds like the one we had in the office, I still get nauseated.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
But oh, did she love her clients. She had no husband, no children; her clients were everything. Specifically, Kathy Bates and Brian Dennehy. She had discovered both of them when they were doing off-off-off-Near Hackensack-Broadway. She adored them. One could argue she made them.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
For years, Brian had wanted to do DEATH OF A SALESMAN on the stage, in Chicago. For years, for a number of reasons, it hadn't happened. Finally, with superhuman strength and negotiating prowess on Susan's part, DEATH, with the perfect director on the stage Brian wanted, went up.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
Brian got the kinds of reviews he deserved. The play was a huge hit. So huge, in fact, that it went to Broadway. Again, Susan hammered out the seemingly endless details of moving a production to a Broadway theater. She went to the opening. The reviews were love letters to Brian.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
Susan was ecstatic. But the real joy came when Brian won the Tony for his performance. I watched it at home and I was 99% thrilled for Brian and 1% thrilled for us at the office. Susan had a tendency to walk in the door screaming instructions and grievances.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
I was now an agent, not her assistant, but Susan didn't hold with such distinctions. We all got screamed at, we all became miserable, we all started whatever self-soothing behavior allowed us to not cry in the hallway. At the very least, Brian's win would delight her.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
And then Brian forgot to thank her.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
The next morning, we walked around with the resigned despair of a tank of sentient lobsters. We were all to be boiled alive, it was just a matter of when. Susan flew in the door, raced to her office, slammed the door shut. The quiet was actually worse.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
At lunch, her assistant "Chet" slid into my office. He had the look of a man who had been screamed at for five hours. He asked a favor. Brian had called him; he was aghast he had forgotten to thank Susan, the woman who had made his dream come true. He thought he had a solution.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
He would put a full-page ad in both VARIETY and HOLLYWOOD REPORTER, the daily trade papers read by everyone, thanking her. It was to be a surprise. The only thing Brian had needed from the Chet was a picture of her to put in the ad. Problem was, Chet couldn't find one.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
I had been on her desk six months, did I know of one?
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
I smiled, because I did. Susan, like many women of a certain age, wasn't terribly fond of having her picture taken but it so happened there was a picture of her on the side-table in her office. Susan loved decorating, nothing was by chance, she must have liked that picture.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
We got it, Chet slid it out, overnighted it to Brian, we crossed our fingers she wouldn't notice the picture was gone for a day. Even if she did, the ad was to appear the following day; after such a loving gesture, who could be angry with us?
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
The next day, we all waited breathlessly for her to walk in the back door from the parking lot, down the long hallways, past each of our offices. For once, she wouldn't be screaming. I wondered if she would hug me. I decided it was a small price to pay.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
The door opened.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
I swear to you, even the phones stopped ringing for a second.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
Susan inhaled.
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
"Who the fuck," she screamed, "Gave Brian a picture OF MY MOTHER."
— Quinn Cummings (@quinncy) November 7, 2018
The story struck a chord with many of those reading.
Ah, this thread. Read and feel better about any fuck-up you ever may have made. https://t.co/t8CPHQoVwh
— Patton Oswalt (@pattonoswalt) November 8, 2018
— It’sJustPat (@PatCorc2019) November 7, 2018
On a scale of 1 to 10, this story is an 100.
— The Hoarse Whisperer (@HoarseWisperer) November 7, 2018
Oh dear God in Heaven that story is awful and I plan to tell it many times
— Tom Nichols (@RadioFreeTom) November 7, 2018
Best. Story. Ever.
— Susie Kline (@SusieKline) November 7, 2018
I am dead r.i.p. oh my god ☠️⚰️
— Alicia Lutes (@alicialutes) November 8, 2018