Drop the Name

I had a roommate once that made me laugh so hard. Hanging out with him always meant fun times. After graduation, we never seemed to run into each other, but I always thought back to those days fondly. Then, like twenty years later, all my friends pointed out how much that guy hated me. What? That guy? But, we always had such a good time together. So I thought.

I was devastated, but also, I get it. I could come off as heavily insufferable back then. Luckily, I only have good memories, insulated from his experience. Plus, I’ve matured now and never get on anyone’s nerves any more, ever. So, that’s solved.

I can tell this story without mentioning his name because the name is irrelevant. Plus, only one or two people reading this would even know the name.

Every once in a while, I feel the urge to tell a story from my days in Los Angeles, which may or may not include a name that people might know. In those cases, the name is relevant to the story. If I told you some guy was smoking on the elevator, and no one said a word, so what? But, if I drop the name, the context completes the story.

I didn’t really move to LA to meet famous people, or even because I wanted to become famous, and yet I did wind up meeting several celebrities. Some were brief, like the time I tried to get into an actor’s car because I thought they were stealing my car. Others I saw daily because we shared an employer like run-of-the-mill hum-drum coworkers. We would meet up at the office water cooler, which in production includes much more dangerous refreshment choices, like rows and rows of every kind of candy, chip, nut and did I mention candy?

Lately, I’ve tried harder not to drop names, because it never seems to have the effect I want.

I suppose it all depends on how you set it up and the context of the story. If friends are discussing the coming thunder storm, you don’t want to burst out to interrupt with “you know who once had to walk through rain, probably? Actually, I talked with this famous person about accounting, so...yeah, rain.”

If instead, you are talking about accounting already, and you had to help this celebrity figure out an accounting error, then you might want to play it more like...

“This is a crazy story, but when I worked in LA, I had the opportunity to work with Cookie Monster, great guy except for the drinking, and he actually needed help creating an Excel report to keep track of his blue dye touch-ups. I think of that dude every time I see the letter C.”

Actually, maybe you don’t mention the drinking. That’s nobody’s business. (Note: I never met Cookie Monster in reality, because he was always too drunk to meet his fans.)

Interestingly enough, I found some truth in the cliche that celebrities are just regular people. They have insecurities. They can get impatient or frustrated. They face conflicts and complications in life. And, sometimes, they simply need some alone time, even if they have to go to the post office, or want to have a night out with their family.

Some of them are genuinely kind and generous, and some are always cranky and generally unhappy. They’re people. Often not that different. Strangers happen to recognize them, which can complicate things, like that time I ran into Newman at the grocery store. I only chased him as far as the meat department before the security guard tased me, but at least I had a genuine Seinfeld moment for five seconds.

(Note: I never met Newman in reality, because when I saw him at the grocery store, he was getting chased by a very drunk Cookie Monster.)

Ultimately, I only enjoy dropping names for a brief moment, but then I feel empty after the fleeting novelty wears off. I am learning that I have better stories that celebrate my wonderful, un-famous friends, like the time I found out one of my favorite roommates actually hated me.

I don’t need a name drop to entertain, as long as I tell the story well. As my former boss says, people will eat it up like “nom nom nom nom nom.”