If there’s two things I despise about PR people, its 1) they’re always unbearably attractive and 2) they’re horrendously nice, all the fucking time. It’s of course, one big giant ruse, the same way the staff in American Apparel look at you with a I am ready to get it on, and you there goblin, are in luck glance in order to trick you into buying more in some desperate attempt to secure the approval of these desirable elves, before they snap out of the temporary insanity that is rendering them immune to your pungent goblin smell. My problem is, despite knowing this, I cannot seem to steel myself against it. Secretly, perhaps somewhere deep down I think that all these PR people really do love me, and that one day I too will be accepted, like Simba. Or The Elephant Man.
The situation is always the same. PR sends Coco press release. Coco reads press release then sends a question. PR sends response and tails if off with ‘Super! So I should put your name down for this then? I am so looking forward to it, and to seeing you!’
She likes me. She really likes me.
Okay I type, clicking send. And so repeats the annoying rigmarole of doing stuff for no good reason that serve only to destroy your soul. This time however, I think I have achieved my own ‘piece de resistance’ of fail. I, Coco Khan, am going to have a little man follow me around for 12 hours. Thats it. That is the piece. Just some guy following me around, trying to ‘assist’ me. In context of wealth, I imagine thats just called ‘having a PA’ but in my context I sense a little bit of ‘probation officer’.
I’ll let you know how that goes.
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