Awkward Situations and Pretty People
Ever accompanied a former beauty queen across an angry picket line? Ever escorted a reality show runner-up through their very first fatal fire? Ever loitered outside a Wal-Mart as your toothpaste model of a partner cajoled the indifferent into an on-camera rant? I have - and I’m here to tell you, folks do respond differently to the acutely telegenic. Be it a homicide scene or a hillbilly hoe-down, nothing greases the wheels of stranger exchange like a chiseled jaw, envied hair-do or well-placed set of dimples. As a distinctly average forty year old, I’m used to amassing interaction withOUT the lubricant of matinee idol looks. No sweat. I got other skills: a gift of gab, familiar logos and an acute sense of lunch time motivation. On any given day, I can usually sway even the numbest among us to fake a pulse or two on-cam. But my meager skills of inquisition pale in comparison to those gifted with a visage more suitable for billboards than my furry mug. It’s this sort of viewer swooning that rightly infuriates the Print Contingent. Let’s face it: skinny notebooks, advanced degrees and a sense of entitlement still won’t get you as many juicy quotes quicker from the flattened trailer park as will an overly-logo’d Ford Explorer and an ex-thespian with really good hair. If that peeves the newspaper people in my life, I can certainly understand - but I for one am still glad that pretty people open doors. It’s facet of the grab I’ve known about for years. But today it occurred to me anew, as I watched our newest easy-on-the-eyes reporter, work a surly parking lot full of would-be demonstrators as if she were a game show host sleepwalking contestants through yet another lighting round.
I love it when they’re tougher than they look.