it means QUIET ON THE SET, it means please, for the love of God, don’t tell me about how this was all your dream, how you always wanted to end up here, making movies, how you called your mom back home in Kansas or Jersey or wherever the hell, and uttered the words, “I made it,” and your momma cried, called you special, told all her friends; please for the love of God don’t think you’re the only one with that story—the only one who really sees him, The Star, the one from all the posters, from the talk shows, from the very heart of America, the one who’s waiting just yards away in his trailer, waiting for us to come, knock, call him to set—and anyway you’re only here because Gwen left and before that Jina left and before that Elisha left and we can’t talk about Elisha but anyway before that Miranda got promoted and then she left too and I’m too busy running back and forth from wardrobe to set and back to make sure the craft services stay fresh on their shitty, busted table and that I’m not the person getting screamed at because the water is too cold because this business is all about Teamwork and if you have a problem with that you can go home and pack up your apartment and no one will miss you, least of all me, and I’m the only one here who even knows your name, I mean just look at your badge, I mean look how all it says is Production Assistant because that’s all anyone needs to know, and by the way, you need to know that we always wear black on set because it soaks up the light, because we don’t do anything that could ruin the image the whole crew works so hard to create, to uphold, so don’t go pulling this red-striped t-shirt thing again because it could reflect out, flash across the actors’ faces, ruin everything, just like you would if I left you behind here twiddling your thumbs, so walk with me now, it’s time to get him, that’s what that bell meant, just now, never-ever forget its sound and how it means go, run, now—and anyway, he’ll want to meet you; he always wants to, but don’t think it makes you special, I’m serious—and when you’re done, don’t tell me he’s taller than you expected, because I don’t care about that—let’s walk, his trailer’s just a minute back here, close to the soundstage because to make him walk would be unjust and anyway that’s good news for us because every day it’s our job to go out, get him from his trailer, ask how he’s feeling, tell him the crew is ready to film his scene, and every day we do this and the first time I got him from his trailer, I went alone, and he was wearing just his robe even though he knew it was call time, and when I knocked and he opened the door, he told me I looked like an old friend and I asked which one and he just smiled and asked me if I’d help him with something inside so I did, and later I learned that’s just the kind of thing he does, the kind of thing people like him can do because it’s our job to keep him happy, and now it’s your job too and I’m going to let you be the one to knock because he’ll be happy to see you, and he’ll be wearing his robe even though he knows it’s his call time, he’ll be happy that you have a nice smile, and he’ll smile at you the way he smiles in that romantic comedy, the one you love, and he’ll try to touch you and maybe you’ll let him, and you should smile, be polite, and you should know none of this makes you special and it’s just like this so I’m sorry we can’t do anything because we want to be here, we want to be here so badly, and he’s the only one who gets what he wants, really, but I’ll head back to the stage and when he’s ready, you’ll walk with him and keep your eyes down, locked on the hot stone of the pavement, burning, and remember when you make it back to set that the cameras might be rolling and he might touch the small of your back, and remember that when the red light’s on, we’re recording, which means you say nothing—and when the red light’s off, we’re not recording, which means, for the love of God, you say nothing.