I was helping my friend with a video art project this last weekend. She had been tediously planning this for weeks and had spent much time, money and effort preparing. For this shoot, we rented some gear from a local production house here in LA- a camera, monitor, lights and the various cords that connect everything- the works. During set up of all this gear, my friend could not seem to find an essential cord. She started panicking and appeared to be approaching tears while looking for the missing cord. I climbed down the ladder I was on, to try and help slow the emotional bullet train she had embarked on. Once I understood what exactly was missing, I slipped my hand into the obvious hiding place (the camera case) and pulled out the cord in question. I held it up and asked “Is it this one?”
“YES!” she squealed.
“It was just right here in this side pocket.” I said, with a hint of “duh” in my voice.
“Thank…….” She started to say, as I expected her to end with an S – as in Thanks!
So, “You’re welcome.” I prematurely answered.
“…….God!” She finished with a sigh of relief.
Thanks God?? Thank God??? No, no, no, thank me! I’m the one who found it. I’m the one who kept my cool and patiently ran my hand thoroughly through each crevice of the most obvious place for the cord to be, the camera bag (duh!).
I was offended that she directed her intense relief and gratitude towards an imaginary hero and not at me, the real person who was in the room and truly solved the problem. As the day passed, we successfully completed our project and celebrated with dinner and drinks. But I silently stewed over that God comment throughout.
I know I’m no Captain Sully or a brilliant heart surgeon, but I feel I was denied recognition and appreciation for saving the day.