Nice to meet you. Again. Maybe.
Let’s say I’m a development exec and I’m going into a meeting with a writer (a big, successful one) whom I’ve met before — but it was a brief conversation and it was ten years ago, possibly longer.
When the writer says, “Nice to meet you,” I shouldn’t say, “We’ve actually met before, but it was a brief conversation and it was ten years ago,” should I? I should just act like we haven’t met before, right?
Or would the writer be flattered that I’d remember the conversation and was excited to have it, since the writer is a big deal? Which is the truth?
– Anonymous
Okay: It’s entirely possible that I was the writer who didn’t remember you. I’m sorry. We’ll get to why it happens (The Kevin Williamson Problem) in a second. Let’s solve your issue first.
In the situation you present, there’s generally a way to point out history without making too big a deal out of it.
WRITER
Nice to meet you.
EXEC
You probably don’t remember, but I met you years ago on that Goblin Bikers project at Cinergi.
WRITER
Wow. Whatever happened to Cinergi?
...and so on.
It’s for exactly this reason that I’ve gotten in the habit of saying “Hi” or “Hello” instead of the default “Nice to meet you.” And I don’t end a meeting with that phrase either. “Great talking with you” or a simple “Thanks” does the trick.
But why does it happen in the first place? Are writers such social abominations that they can’t even remember who they’ve met before?
No. And the perfect person to illustrate this fact is another screenwriter.
The Kevin Williamson Problem
I’ve named this phenomenon in honor of Kevin Williamson, a screenwriter who is now a friend, but who for many years was the guy who couldn’t remember that he’d met me. We would be introduced by a mutual acquaintance, and he’d go right to “Nice to meet you.” Nevermind that we’d met three times before. Nevermind that we had shared interests, friends and connections (such as Katie Holmes). He was perfectly nice to talk with, but I sensed that every time I walked away the slate was wiped clean.
What a jerk.
Except of course, he wasn’t. He’s a nice guy. The problem was the complete disparity in our rememberability. The fair question wasn’t, “Why can’t Kevin Williamson remember me?” It was, “Why can I remember Kevin Williamson?”
Simple: When I met Kevin Williamson, I already knew who he was. He had movies in theaters and a show on TV. He had profiles in EW. So the first time I shook his hand, I knew a lot about him, and had already formed opinions. Again, I knew him before I met him.
The first time he met me, I was a brand new person. So after a brief conversation, he was no more likely to remember me than any other cocktail party guest.
I understand this because I now suffer from the Kevin Williamson Problem all the time. Among the tiny subset of people who pay attention to screenwriters, I’m “famous” enough that strangers sometimes recognize me. This is odd. And even when I enter a conversation heretofore anonymous, the projects I’ve written get attached to me: He’s the guy who wrote that Willy Wonka movie. So, after a brief conversation, I’m more likely to be remembered than do the remembering.
In the situation presented, you as a development executive have had the chance to see this writer’s name in the trades for years. You’ve had a lot of memory reinforcement. He hasn’t. So it would be pretty remarkable if he remembered you. Therefore, it’s smart of you to provide a lot of context and no implied request for apology.
They grow so fast, don’t they?
A related situation I’ve been grappling with is how many new people I’m expected to remember now that my daughter is in preschool. It’s not just the fifteen kids in her class; it’s all of their parents, and siblings. A weekend birthday party can mean 45 names I’m suddenly supposed to be able to recall. Is Daphne Kate’s mom, or is Kate Daphne’s mom? Add in bouncy houses and screaming, and the name buffer quickly overflows.
Luckily, there’s cake.
Articles
February 3rd, 2009 at 3:46 pm
The cake is a lie…
February 3rd, 2009 at 3:50 pm
Nonsense, the cake is real and delicious. It’s your reward for helping test the system.
February 3rd, 2009 at 4:05 pm
Damn, I wanted to say the cake is a lie…
Amazing how pervasive the mythology of that game has become.
February 3rd, 2009 at 4:13 pm
the cake, lie or not, is better than death
February 3rd, 2009 at 4:18 pm
I so wish I knew what “the cake is a lie” even means.
February 3rd, 2009 at 4:19 pm
Left 4 Dead actually has some good writing on the walls…”No zombie is a match for Chicago Ted.”
February 3rd, 2009 at 4:51 pm
Paula – it’s a reference to a video game called “Portal.” It may be one the most well written video games ever. The computer antagonist promises cake, but others say the cake is a lie.
February 3rd, 2009 at 4:55 pm
John,
Thanks for answering my question, and for doing it so soon!
The writer I’m talking about isn’t you, so no worries.
Anonymous
February 3rd, 2009 at 5:08 pm
Careful there, Paula, or Google may be upset that you don’t remember you’re friends.
(I shared your ignorance, but Google pointed me to http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=the+cake+is+a+lie ).
February 3rd, 2009 at 5:15 pm
@Paula I’m totally with you on this one, but I did some handy googling and came across this: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=the+cake+is+a+lie Ahh, it all makes sense now
February 3rd, 2009 at 7:00 pm
I’ve day played on a big tv show a number of times. And I’ve been to social events where the big tv show’s star was present. I’m friends with many of the crew members on the big tv show. And every time I’ve bumped into the star of the big tv show at these social gatherings, he introduces himself as if it’s the first time we’ve ever met. I’m never insulted by this. How many people must this guy meet in one day? Alot, I imagine. But what makes me smile is that each time we meet, he politely shakes my hand and humbly says, “Hi. I’m Kiefer.”
February 3rd, 2009 at 8:07 pm
I had the opposite issue the other day. I got an email from an actor who mentioned how nice it was to meet me the other day at some documentary shoot.
I wasn’t at the documentary shoot, though.
February 3rd, 2009 at 11:21 pm
I identify with this topic whole-heartedly. How many more times am I going to get introduced to Joel Silver before it clicks to him that we’ve met before. But as an aside, isn’t it great when someone who really shouldn’t have any business remembering you actually does? I started out reading for a big-time director circa 1984-85, but fell out of touch by 1990. He came up to me in a restaurant last April and said “You used to read scripts for me – you haven’t changed a bit – what are you working on?” That was delightful.
February 4th, 2009 at 6:35 am
I’m gonna work on my rememberability. I wouldn’t want to be remembered as the writer who forgot an execs name.
February 4th, 2009 at 7:58 am
I always say “Oh man, I’m sorry. I was so freaking drunk at that party I couldn’t even remember my own name.”
February 4th, 2009 at 8:53 am
Thanks everyone! Now I’m in the loop.
February 4th, 2009 at 10:49 am
Oh man, as an RA in college, I was always freaked out by the prospect of remembering 56 new freshmen names, and matching them to their parents. (I had NO illusions about remembering their parents’ names. It was good enough to say, “You’re so-and-so’s mother, right?”)
But I found that the pressure of having to remember their names helped, and whenever someone introduced themselves, I would repeat their name so I could be sure I processed it: “Firstname, right? Hi, Firstname, I’m Kristan.”
That’s one of the biggest things for me, I think. Repetition.
(Just make sure you’re repeating the right name! For a long time I kept thinking my friend’s girlfriend looked more like a Wendy than her real name, and I just kept thinking that, and one day she was walking away from us in a crowd so I tried to get her attention and I yelled, “Hey, Wendy!” Needless to say, she didn’t turn around.)
February 4th, 2009 at 4:04 pm
Man, I must suck at being a screenwriter. I remember every effffing person I’ve ever met, the famous and the non-famous. There’s something seriously wrong with my wiring that I have the stupid capacity to see a face and stick a name to it, years, dozens of years even, later. Heck, I even remember John August, but I bet he can’t (or won’t) remember me.
February 4th, 2009 at 8:14 pm
i worked for the rabbi at my university for a few years after college. he was a bit of a campus celebrity and a ubiquitous man-on-the-hill, so pretty much every student and faculty member knew who he was. he had perfected the art of warmly greeting every person he met with a handshake, smile and “how ARE you — we’ve met before, haven’t we?”
it was ingenious because 95% of the time he was right, and it had the remarkable double-effect of making that random freshman feel welcomed and special — and of making him seem like a caring person (he was) and a guy with an incredible memory (he was not).
it’s a neat trick but it doesn’t strike me as very hollywood.
February 5th, 2009 at 5:03 am
Funny. I work for the federal government and in Washington DC if you don’t remember someone you are considered a zero, as in “I can’t believe I forgot meeting Senator Bayh’s secretary! She was at the Japanese Embassy three years ago when I was Secretary of Commerce.” -The opposite of the rest of the world- If you have ever spent any time in the District, you are probably not surprised that “up is down” for those loons.
I’m like Jake, and it is pretty embarrassing to be the one who remembers everyone. I get “nice to meet you” and I shoot back with, “How’s your grandmother? She was having problems with her cat Grimalkin tearing up the couch a few years ago. Did she finally listen to you and have his claws removed? Or did she buy the leather couch instead?” It’s terribly embarrassing, particularly if the grandmother is now dead, killed by the cat.
February 5th, 2009 at 5:07 am
Incidentally, “Secretary of Commerce” isn’t the same thing as “Senator’s Secretary,” in case you didn’t know. The former is appointed by the president and the latter is a good typist and answers the phones.
February 5th, 2009 at 6:41 am
There have been several social occasions where I’ve been introduced to someone who says, “Oh, we’ve met before,” and I have no memory of having met them. I blame the eighties.
But that’s better than having them say, “Hey, we’ve slept together,” and having no memory of it.
March 4th, 2009 at 2:13 pm
I like to say, “hey, you!” And “this is the guy, right? You great guy, c’mere!” And when people say “we’ve met” it’s best to quickly say, “so how’ve you been?” I then use my old journalism skills to get them divulge some tidbit that will remind me of how I know them. And if not I go back to “you! How are you? God, I’ve missed you, you old devil!”
I did not remember someone I’d met briefly at a huge awards ceremony. When I met them the second time and introduced myself I got the world’s nastiest “we’ve met.” Still don’t remember them before, but NOW I know they are kinda jerky.
March 26th, 2009 at 2:50 pm
Only just read this post because of today’s link and laughed about the last paragraph.
I directly asked a mum this very question at my son’s preschool yesterday.
Ai is Aiano’s mum. (for future reference)