On paper, I’m the receptionist. To the execs that call the shots, I’m “the front desk girl.” And to the directors, writers, and producers who churn through each day to pitch ideas and hawk scripts—I’m a greeting committee of one. And it gets old. What felt prestigious about this job to a once bright-eyed film school grad has slowly faded over the years. Yet here I sit with a forced smile on my face. Eyes forward. Shoulders back. Soul empty.
