I Represent Sean Rosen (2 page)

It's like when you pretend to be sick so you can stay home from school, then you actually get sick. No it isn't. It's like when there's only one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of butter pecan left in your freezer. You want the chocolate, but your friend says he thinks he's allergic to nuts. You don't completely believe him, but you take the butter pecan, even though you never tasted it and never wanted to. Then you find out you love butter pecan.

I decided to open the letter in my old tree house. It's not actually mine, but I used to go there. And it's not really a house. Just a tree where my friend's dad nailed a big piece of wood. We're actually not friends anymore.

The idea was that once you climbed the tree, you'd have somewhere to sit that was more comfortable than a branch. The piece of wood is actually
less
comfortable than a branch, but if you bring a pillow or two, it's not too bad.

I took two pillows, and when I was up in the tree and comfortable, I opened the letter.

Dear Mr. Rosen,

Thank you for your interest in _________
(the entertainment company).
In response to your letter, it is the official published policy of our company not to accept unsolicited submissions of any kind or nature.

For your information, no one outside the legal department of this company has seen your letter. No one at this company ever invited you to make a submission.

_________ is an extremely large, diversified corporation with thousands of active projects and properties throughout the world. We take no responsibility for any coincidental similarity between your work and ours.

All of our projects are protected by copyright, and despite the possibility that your material may be similar in some way, or even identical, to one of the properties we own, your unsolicited submission does not qualify you for any legal rights or compensation with regard to our property.

We can assure you that we defend and prosecute nuisance lawsuits to the fullest extent of the law. Should you wish to approach this company again, we suggest that you do so through a talent agent or management firm.

If you can believe it, this letter went on for another three pages. I didn't know what they were talking about half the time, and they probably don't either. It's like when you download a new computer program. You start out reading the Terms of Agreement, but it just goes on and on. You want to use the program, so after about two paragraphs you give up and click “I Agree.”

But who knows? Maybe near the bottom of the Terms of Agreement there's something that says, “Starting today, I agree to give you all the money I earn for the rest of my life, plus my dog.” You agreed to it because you got bored reading all those big words.

By the way, I don't have a dog. I want a dog. At least I think I do. If you've never had something, you think you want it, but since you don't really know what it's like, maybe you don't actually want it. It doesn't matter anyway because my mom definitely doesn't want one. If you ask her why, the only thing she'll say is “I'm not a dog person.” My dad isn't a cat person, so that's that.

Obviously, the legal department never even read my letter. THERE WAS NO SUBMISSION. I didn't tell them anything about my idea. I just asked them to give me a call. I slept with my phone all week for nothing.

And no matter what they said in their letter, I'm sure they don't have an idea that's similar or identical to my idea. I didn't tell anyone that I sent this letter, but if my grandmother knew, she would say, “This is why you do a trial run.”

NO MORE FISH.

I
was fries-texting my mom. We were at the kitchen table having dinner. She and my dad were talking about some concert they went to twenty years ago, so she didn't see my plate with those words spelled out in fries. My mom thinks it's healthy to have fish once a week. Once a week is okay, but tonight was the second time. I wanted to eat my fries, so I cleared my throat and pointed. She said, “Cute. The fish was on sale. Sorry.”

I decided not to tell my parents about writing to the entertainment company, or the obnoxious letter I got back, but I did ask them what a nuisance lawsuit is. They know. My mom's a nurse. She told me that nurses have to have insurance, because people are always suing doctors and nurses and hospitals. “You made me get a CAT scan during the Super Bowl. I'm suing you for fifty million dollars.” That was her example. I don't know if it really happened.

My dad has to have insurance too. I guess he had a nuisance lawsuit once. Someone said their water was too hot and they got burned, and it was my dad's fault. He started explaining to me how it wasn't his fault at all because the family did something to the water heater to make the water hotter than it's supposed to be. It only took a minute of hearing about the water heater before I told my dad, “I Agree.”

The next day after school I got back to work. I'm still mad about that letter, but I can't think of anything I can do about it.

Since the company I want to be in business with probably has the same rules as the company I wrote to, I guess I should get a talent agent or a management firm.

I always thought I would have an agent. Once in a while in school when someone, even a teacher, asks me to do something, just to be funny I say, “You'll have to talk to my agent.” Not everyone thinks it's funny.

Different people laugh at different things. I notice it all the time at the movies. Sometimes I'm the only one laughing. I can't always explain why, but I just think something is funny. Even if no one else laughs, it doesn't mean I'm wrong. It's funny to me.

Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one
not
laughing. I hate that feeling. At first I think maybe I didn't get it. But I actually did get it. I just didn't think it was funny. Then I start wondering why everyone else thought it was. It's distracting.

I went online and did some research about agents. I've heard of some of the big agencies in the entertainment business, but I don't know anything about them. They have the world's smallest websites. They don't say the names of the agents. They don't say who they're the agents for. But I read that an actor I like works with a certain agency, so that's the one I picked.

I don't want to waste another week waiting for an answer, so this time I'm calling. Just about the only thing on this agency's website is their phone number.

For Hanukah last year my parents got me a really good digital voice recorder. I use it for my podcasts. And every once in a while I record something else. Like a phone call I want to remember.

This was easy. They put me right through to a really big agent. Then a woman answered.

Then no one said anything for about five seconds.

My voice recently started to change. A lot of people used to call our house and think I was my mom. It was annoying. When I was eleven I got my own phone, so it stopped. Now if you're calling me, you know who I am.

I know my voice is changing because of my podcasts. When you make podcasts and edit them yourself, you get to hear your voice a lot. I hated it at first, but I got used to it. If you listen to my newer podcasts, I sound older now and more like a guy. But maybe not to Delilah.

I
know that some kids have agents. I was watching a talk show and I heard a kid actor say, “I was in my friend's backyard and I got a call from my agent telling me I got it.” He was talking about a part in a TV show. How did he get that agent?

“Hell if I know.” My dad was in the room watching TV with me. He didn't say it in a mean way. He just doesn't know. “Sorry, Seany. I wish I could help you with this stuff. I guess you got the wrong dad.”

I wasn't actually asking my dad “How did he get that agent?” like I thought he would know. It was just one of those times you're thinking about something, and you say it to yourself out loud, but the person in the room with you thinks you're talking to them. It happens all the time. By the way, my dad is the only person who ever calls me “Seany.”

“What do you need an agent for?” I wasn't sure I wanted to get into all this with my dad, so I didn't answer. He said, “I could be your agent.” That's nice of my dad to volunteer, but I can't picture him talking to this huge entertainment company. He doesn't speak that language.