A little more than an hour after I wrote my last post I received a phone call.
From Björk.
In Iceland.
That isn't her real name. She isn't even Icelandic, she's American. But for the purposes of this blog, she will remain Björk. And she's really quite nice. We hit it off famously.
The story is that she is my client's longtime and most trusted PR person. She happened to meet and fall in love with an Icelandic gentleman. He works for a technology company that's based in Reykjavík with offices in LA and he splits his year between the two cities, six months in each. They married in June and spent the summer and early Fall in LA and now they've moved back to Iceland for the Winter. If you ask me, that seems a little backward but what do I know. I'm no Icelandic computer genius.
It was nearly midnight in Reykjavík, a point she made more than once. She was calling to discuss some upcoming projects. My client, her boss, is a very busy person and he had decided to take himself out of the loop on the next several projects and let Björk and I hash out all the details. And she wanted to talk schedules.
It seems she's just as demoralized by the wacky hours since she's been trying to work on LA time for the past several weeks. It means she rarely hears anything before mid-afternoon and then ends up working into the wee hours of the morning.
"I'd prefer not to have to work after 8pm" she said.
And I'd rather not have to work before 8am I replied.
So we've coordinated so that we can get done what we need to get done between 8am and 1pm my time, 3pm and 8pm for her.
I call it "Björktime."
We'll see how it goes. My luck scheduling clients has been less than stellar lately. The "best laid plans" and all that. But I'm hopeful.
