Independent Jason Meets the Web Grrrl

He told the crowd, "I went in for the script, and instead got a card from the Web girl, and my FedEx receipt."

Jason Alexander was emceeing a gala at a conference I was attending. After a friend sneaked me into the VIP reception room right before the show started, I turned around to find myself standing next to him.

He was nothing at all like any of the personalities I’d seen him play. (Remember the smarmy best friend in _Pretty Woman_? I sure do.) No, instead, he radiated an unexpected aura of hip, friendly, and-yet-you-see-me-ten-times-a-day-now-on-TV celebrity.

One of my colleagues offered to take a picture of us together, if I had a camera with me. (Of course, I did.) Mr. Alexander was more than gracious and agreed to the picture right away, and then asked what I did for a living.

“I’m a media technologist,” I said, handing him my card. “I do Web strategy and development for progressive media organizations.” He looked at me curiously, yet obviously a little confused, and with a laugh asked if I was one of those people who could get the network in his house working. Well, IT’s not my strong suit, I explained, but I was sure that I could.

Later, when he came out onstage at the gala, he reached into his suit jacket pocket for the speech. Instead, he pulled something else out. He told the crowd, “I went in for the script, and instead got a card from the Web girl, and my FedEx receipt.”

I was so excited to hear my card mentioned that I started smacking everyone’s arms around me: “That’s my card! He’s talking about my card!” My God, the guy that you see on TV ten times a day was talking about my business card. Part of me wanted to be tweaked and righteous because he'd called me a girl, but I quickly convinced myself that he was surely using the correct spelling in his head, grrl or grrrl, and ran outside to call my mom and tell her the thrilling news. My business card!

The next week, I found out that my cousin Mike had also met Mr. Alexander a couple years ago at the Chestnut Inn on Oquaga Lake, near where my dad grew up in upstate New York.

It’s really all much smaller than we ever think it is, isn’t it?


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