Eavesdropping On The Pandemic

David and Griselda live in the adjacent apartment building with a patio directly under my office windows.  Since this whole work-from-home situation started, I have had the distinct annoyance to be privy to their one-sided conversations on the phone, nonstop, every day.  They have a small toddler who, blessedly, never speaks, proving that noisy, obnoxious parents can produce children fit for society.

David is some kind of mid-level worker in an insurance company.  However, his real vocation is to be a screenwriter.  He sees this moment as the perfect time for him to catch the wave and become famous.

Griselda wants to be an actress.  She shot her own portraits to send to agents on the front lawn of their building.  She mounted a cell phone on a tripod and snapped away, flipping her long, curly, honey-colored hair back and forth over her shoulder.  She also did a number of stretches and yoga poses to photograph.  When not preparing to act, she is a stay-at-home mom.

I eavesdropped on the couple’s conversations; here is a transcript.

David (Tuesday evening, 7:22 PM)—His Screenwriting Class

It’s just not going to work for me, you know.  They just destroyed my writing.  Not one positive thing to say.  I told them, I’m not coming here every week to be torn down.  I don’t need that kind of depression.  I signed up for the class to get positive feedback.  I want to hear what’s good about my writing.  (pause—other person is talking)  I checked her out before I signed up.  She has a couple of credits, you know, like a Star Trek back in the day.  I don’t know if she even knows what she’s talking about.  She said my characters are unmotivated and they don’t change.  No one changes!  That’s the beauty of it!  Everyone just stays the same.  My writing deserves better!

Griselda (Thursday morning, 9:45 AM)—Her Yoga Class

I did not sign up for hot yoga, yet the place was always a steam bath and smelled like butt.  So it’s a relief to Zoom it now, except I’m wondering, you know, it’s 250 a week.  Is it worth it?  I can do it right here at home and I don’t need an instructor or child care.  Why pay someone to make me sweat over the computer?  Thankfully, David and I do our separate things in the apartment.  I walk twice a day.  I keep the mask around my neck in case I see somebody.  It’s good because I usually shower once a day and with a mask no one can see me or my stubble.  No, my face, I mean.  Don’t you have that?  I thought you did, your hair is so thick.  I just figured…no I didn’t mean anything by it.  Sorry.

David (Friday evening, 6:10 PM—What’s For Dinner?

Yeah, we’re eating.  (sounds of scraping plates).  No, we eat out on the patio.  Can’t stand it inside all the time.  (pause)  We’re having corn on the cob, chicken…hey why don’t you come over?  No, no, I know, the quarantine thing.  Sure.  But it is good corn and chicken.  We had it delivered.  We know you, so we’re safe.  (pause)  Come on over.  I’ll tell you about my pilot.

Griselda (Monday morning, 9:01 AM—Play Dates

How can we live normal if there are no play dates?  Meanwhile, I’m saddled with her.  No, no, I don’t mean saddled.  Well, yes I do, in a way.  I mean, she is not as much trouble as David but potty time, that just eats up your day.

David (Wednesday morning, 7:15 AM—Working Out

No, she does yoga.  That’s Griselda’s thing.  (lowers voice but still loud)  I don’t get it.  Yoga!  Bunch of people twisting themselves into pretzels and farting.  Must smell great in that workout.  No, give me a good run, although I don’t like running on the sidewalk.  Too uneven; I like the asphalt or the dirt track at the park.  Clears the head unlike Griselda who probably clears the room, you know what I’m saying?  I try to not be around when she does the Zoom yoga class.

Griselda (Tuesday evening, 8:19 PM—This Is It For Me

I was asking my acting coach this very thing:  how long can you play a twenty-something?  I mean, I am still close to that age, but you know, with the wrong lighting, I can look way older.  (pause)  Well, you wouldn’t understand unless you spent time on set.  Lighting is everything.  (pause)  I’ve been on set before; that commercial for dentures.  No, I was the office assistant.  (pause)  I did too have a part—I had two lines.  (pause)  Well of course they cut it!  It was too long.

David (Saturday afternoon, 2:38 PM)—Relocating

I can’t leave L.A.  My work’s here.  No, not that, my writing work.  (pause)  The group keeps tearing down everything I submit.  I mean, who ever heard of a class where it’s all so competitive?  (pause)  I was thinking about Victorville.  It’s supposed to be cheap there.  And I can still drive back to L.A. for filming when the pilot goes into production.

Griselda (Sunday evening 9:14 PM)—How Young Do I Have To Look?

Jesus, how young do I have to look?  I can pull off twenty-two, trust me.  But sixteen?  It is all in the lighting.  And hey, at this point, I’ll play anything.  I’ll take anything.  (pause)  Well, I don’t know about that.  I’d have to ask David.  If it was done tastefully.  I have standards.  Mom, I have standards!  You’re not listening.  Why wouldn’t you be proud?

David (Monday morning, 11:55 AM)—Public Bathrooms

To hell with it.  We went north.  Less restrictions at the beaches.  My only worry was the bathroom.  We stopped at a Denny’s.  Griselda changed the kid in the women’s.  The men’s, awful.  Petri dish.  Aren’t they always like that?  The men’s is disgusting, the women’s, not too bad.  How do I know?  I went in once.  Much cleaner.  I think it was cleaner than the one at home.  Yeah, the women’s.  You just ease open the door and see if anyone is in there.  If not, you can use it.  Not a problem.  Unisex is the thing now.  You’re enlightened if you use the women’s.  You are forward thinking, a real feminist.  (pause, laughing)  Yeah I’m saving that for my comedy pilot.  Did I tell you about it?  It is hilarious.

At this point, I stopped listening and realized, to paraphrase Rilke, I must change my life and keep the windows closed for the rest of the summer.