Here’s how the photo shoot breaks down.
At 10 a.m. photog promptly arrives. I help him lug heavy suitcases of lights, pots and pans, cameras and a big tub of spaghetti upstairs. Temperatures are already in the 80s and it’s humid. This isn’t what I signed up for, I think. I am the star. Well, at least my apartment is.
10:30 a.m. The reporter arrives. More lugging up heavy pots & pans and old garbage like used frozen food containers.
11 a.m. Time to set up the messy sink to re-create what a kitchen could look like in your first apartment. Pots and pans, plates, cups, coffee maker, phone, my labtop, old spaghetti and beer cans are artfully arranged. They decline my offer to include my Jose Cuervo bottle. They do take me up on my offer to use a container of shrimp and steak with rices and veggies. It’s OK, I assure them, the food’s a week old.
11:30 a.m. Reporter is called on to help hold light reflector for photog. Thank heavens she’s here. It looks rather uncomfortable as she’s holding it at an awkward angle. I sip my coffee and read the newspaper. Yes, I’m a famous photographer’s subject, I think haughtily. At least, my apartment is.
11:45 a.m. I’m getting bored. How long does it take to photograph a sink full of dishes anyway? I pick at my nails. Reporter is still holding light reflector at awkward angle.
11:55 a.m. Briefly, I contemplate asking if they need help but I’m getting sleepy. I curl up on the couch instead. I nod off.
12:15 p.m. Photog needs a stepping stool. I dont have one. I give him an old plastic chair instead. It nearly buckles under him because one leg is near broken. It’s OK, he says, he’ll try something else.
12:30 p.m. I’m tired. Now I must know how it feels to be a top model. Nothing but waiting.
12:45 p.m. They're done. Time to clean up. I grudgingly pull myself up to help. Coincidentally, photog’s phone rings. He begins long conversation. Reporter and I begin the clean up.
1 p.m. Photog still on phone. Reporter appears scared of old spaghetti and as she semi scrubs appears to be spreading tomato sauce rather than wiping it up. I assure her I can do it later.
1:15 p.m. The kitchen is nearly spotless no thanks to photog who is still on the phone. We lug down reporter’s stuff.
1:18 p.m. "Ooops," says reporter, "my meter’s almost out." With a wave she’s off.
1:20 p.m. We lug down the photog’s heavy equipment. It’s now in the 90s. I sweat profusely. How come photog didn’t bring handlers?
1:30 p.m. Photog shakes my hand and is off. I get ready to leave to work. This photog business is hard.
Look for Runner in Transition’s kitchen o’ dirty dishes, in the Aug. 18 edition of The Morning Call. If I can’t post the photo, I’ll post the link!