It was about that moment I was informed that I would be needed at the desk at 1pm instead of 3pm. Now this really fucks with my day. I was planning to head down to the Regency Hotel for a quick shower and to eat a nice relaxing lunch before working (and also changing my shirt), and now this was not possible. So I cried for 3 minutes about how tired (ugly) I was (felt), and then sucked it up. Elves are good like that.
I showered at the gym (where I work), put back on my dirty outfit with new underwear, because obviously I don't carry an extra shirt but I carry extra underwear, blew out my hair, borrowed makeup from a personal trainer and settled into my desk for an afternoon of slaving.
It actually ended up being a pretty productive day all in all. CUT TO: 5pm.
One of our regular clients was training this particular evening at 5pm. When he arrived he mentioned that his friend would be coming in to join him for a training session.
10 minutes later, I am chatting with a client and in walks a blonde man with a wool hat making it hard to make out his face. I did a double take, looked back to the client I was speaking with, and we both said, "Owen Wilson?"
Yes. It was. Mr. Regular's friend was Owen.
When working the front desk, it is our responsibility to keep the gym clean. This includes clearing out dirty towels, putting out fresh ones, stocking water, cleaning machines, and my all time favorite - garbage. We have about six little bins at our gym that most of our clients just drop their used water bottles in. When the garbage bag isn't covered in coffee, we typically just pull out the plastic bottle and toss it in the big garbage can in back. So, while Owen Wilson trained, I became very aware of the fact that I was the girl who touched sweaty towels and went garbage picking.
At the end of their workout, Mr. Regular and Owen came and sat in reception where I was. They were chatting about going to MoMA for some Warhol event. Mr. Regular asked me how that sounded and if he needed to shower before going. Owen then proceeded to explain to me (in his owen wilson voice) that he doesn't have B.O., he's just sweaty. "People who eat right and are healthy don't smell" (not true). He then stood up and walked over and put his sweaty arm in my face and asked if it smelled. During this time, Mr. Regular was literally standing without his shirt on changing in the background. I looked up at Mr. Wilson and told him that, in fact, his arm did not smell (but really, who's forearm is going to smell?).
He (Wilson) then told me that I should come with them to MoMA so that at least one of them was clean (little did they know...). I laughed. They were serious. I told them I was not great at art, but I was great at drinking.
Anyhow... we were supposed to all go for drinks, but work always gets in the way for those celebrities. Maybe tonight.
Lessons learned? There is always a silver lining to every extra shift you are forced to work, and if you look and feel like shit, you're probably going to meet Owen Wilson.
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