Thanksgiving always reminds me of Martha Stewart. It must be a grand affair at her home. Today’s blog tells the story of my personal experience with Martha.
In 1995 I was working for
an advertising agency and we had run some print ads in Martha Stewart
Living for a client, with some success. We were looking at expanding
the campaign to another client in the same industry. We contacted the magazine
and discussed some programs.
True to my status as a guy in the mid-90’s, I had only the most vague appreciation for who Martha Stewart was.
A week later we got a call back from the magazine. Martha was going to be appearing at a luncheon not far from our offices in Southern California, they explained. Would we like to be her guests? Of course, we accepted. We assembled an entourage from both the agency and client side.
Little did I know what was in store for me.
We arrived at the
convention center on the appointed day. Prior to the luncheon there was a
crafts fair. Martha was signing books in an adjoining room, ensconced like a
queen under an elaborate canopy. A line of women snaked throughout the exhibit
hall, all clutching books they wanted her to autograph. The hall was packed,
mostly with women. The best I could do was catch glimpses of Martha
through the
throngs—an occasional flash of her blond hair or her smile. I felt
not unlike a small child trying to sneak a peek at Santa Claus. Around me there
were booths of table decorations and cooking accessories and knick knacks of
all sorts. Definitely a chick hangout.
There were also a number of Martha wannabes at this event. Women who dressed like Martha, did their hair like Martha, and obviously took pains to look like Martha. Were they part of a gang, plotting to kidnap Martha and hold her hostage at some cooking school, or was it some sort of hero worship. I kept my eye on them.
The announcement came. Lunch was to be served. We all moved into the dining hall. Me, Martha and a thousand other women. The rep from Martha Stewart gave me a ticket for table #31.
It took some time to find my seat. Women were everywhere. There were a few men, too, all relegated to holding their wife’s purse. I was looking for my boss, also a woman, figuring I might as well hold her purse. I finally found my seat. The crowds were even thicker. A few bodies parted and I was able to better view of the table where I was sitting.
There, sitting at table #31, was Martha. I was going to have lunch at the same table with Martha Stewart. We took our seats. I sat next to my boss, and she sat next to Martha. I was one seat away from the woman.
The first course of lunch was a turkey breast salad. A rather large portion for a salad, I thought. I finished and waited for the main course. Then I realized—that was the main course. Perhaps when I got back to the office I could slip out to the burger joint on the corner.
While we worked on our anorexia, Martha gave her presentation. Mostly it was about marzipan—a must-have for serious kitchen folk made from almonds and powdered confectioner’s sugar and egg white. Halfway through the slide show I was convinced that I needed a store of marzipan in my toolbox for the next time I changed the oil in my car. That stuff is handy.
Martha’s presentation was winding down. I panicked. The only thing I had done was mumble a few comments, laugh at a few jokes, and tried not to look too obvious as I speared the remnants of the salads of the people sitting on either side of me. I had done nothing to distinguish myself to Martha Stewart. Nothing!
She finished and glided back towards our table. What could I do? This was my moment. Suddenly, it flashed on me.
I stood, careful to catch my linen napkin before it fell to the floor. She was approaching. I stepped around my boss’s chair, and turned towards Martha, who was a mere three feet way—and I held chair for her. She made eye contact and smiled.
As she sat down, my hand brushed against her shoulder. She thanked me. I told her she was welcome. Martha Stewart and I had a moment.
See ya’ later, and have a Happy Thanksgiving.
WhatIfYouCouldNotFail.com by Tim Sunderland is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Photo of crossed fingers by Evan-Amos (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.
Photo of Martha Stewart by David Shankbone (David Shankbone) [CC-BY-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.
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