Frederick Fant: My Inside-Inside Joke

Actually Frederick isn't a filmmaker -- he's a furniture salesman that works in my office. But he was fired. And, technically, he does think he's a filmmaker.

From the second I stepped through my office doors, sat down and started blogging for a living (and answering a few calls periodically) Frederick was my own personal Inside-Inside Joke with me, myself and I.

On my first day, he busted through the doors, with his dress-shirt drenched in sweat, wearing a wholebunch of some cliche' cologne, eyes red, wreaking of some type of cognac. It was a Monday, so he maybe he must've spent Sunday night doin that party thang at Platinum. He didn't go to his desk, he headed straight for the coffee maker and stood in front of it while the coffee trickled out. Sometimes I do the same in the morning -- wake up and head directly for the kitchen and watch the coffee being made, then pour a cup and sip while I piss -- except I don't grunt and sniff while I'm doing it and mumble things under my breath like, "it's a new day, but it ain't no new life" or "now I'm hot, they all on me".

Plus, this nigga put about 18 packets of sugar in his java...and he was having trouble opening the packets, too, so he was doing a lot of loud rustling. The scene was hilarious -- in a Priscilla Thomas/Sahara Banks type of way.

Anyways, dude walks by me without even greeting me (what a welcome) and heads to his desk. 10 minutes later I get an intercom call:

"Yeah, what's your name."
"Vince"
"Vince, I'm Frederick Fant, I work here." (Really?)
"Hey Frederick. Yeah, I saw you making your coffee a couple minutes earlier. You like that sugar huh? Haha."
"Yeah, I'm not taking calls until 11am. OK? Thanks."
Click.

Now the funny thing is not that this dude just played me like I was his personal assistant, when he is the lowest on the company totem pole (besides me of course). The funny thing is that he was the worse salesman and NEVER got any calls from ANY client. When I found that out, it made that call infinitely more amusing.

Frederick was also the office predator. He stared women up-n-down...especially this one cute lil white girl named Kathleen. But being a 6'4 black-man, Fred should know that giving your co-worker bedroom eyes as they're getting some carrots out of the refrigerator isn't necessarily comforting -- not in this America.

Frederick was a snazzy dresser. Three-piece suits. Wide-leg slacks. A real natty dude...but he overdid it...it got geechy after a while. And no matter how you dress, if you couldn't sell free Mad Dog 20/20 to a wino, then your cuff-links don't mean a thing.

By late-Tuesday, after a couple co-workers dished the office gossip on everyone, I knew Frederick's MO: good dude, personable, sharp-dresser, but not the most articulate or persuasive -- his days were numbered in the sales world, especially professional sales. And soon, Fred started giving me the "we're the only two young black men in the office" treatment. He used code words with me, winked when Kathleen walked by like, "look at that white girl. I'd get lynched for her. Wouldn't you?" He'd also make a lot of slave references like, if he's just coming into work..he'd say, "What's up Vince. Back on the plantation again." Or the phone would ring and he'd say, "Uh oh, you hear massa's whip."

I liked Fred. He was a semi-cool dude, but more importantly -- he was my inside-inside joke.

By the end of my first week he revealed two things that catapulted him into the exclusive group of co-workers that i'll always remember (Gabbi from Bagel Bros., Dave from Bagel Bros., Tim from Marine Midland, Janet from AF&PA, Phil from the Sentinel).

1) Ricky Fante is his real-life, flesh-n-blood, whole brother. Same mother, father, grew up in same house everything. Now, I'd never heard any of Ricky Fante's music, until Fred forced me to listen to his mp3s -- loudly -- on my computer, compromising my image of professionalism that I'd been doing a good job at proffering.

Well, Ricky Fante sucked.

Well, let me back up a sec...his name sucks.

And, with a name like Ricky Fante, you'd better produce some D'Angelo level muzak and he didn't. Still, as I'm listening to Fante's voice crack, I realize; "This is that dude that my lil sis P and her crew were lambasting this past winter." Apparently someone had taped BET's tribute to Aretha Franklin (or somethin like that) and Ricky Fante performed. Based on P's analysis, Fante's performance was perhaps the worst ever. P, my lil cousins Mel and Reese and the rest of the crew apparently watched this performance over-and-over again to revel in this disaster -- sort of like how people love the first two weeks of American Idol.

So, when Frederick Fant, told me Ricky Fante (Ricky apparently added an 'E' to his last name for Hollywood's sake) was his brother, Frederick's unintentional comedy stature started rising toward levels of mythology.

2.) Soon the office found out I was a writer. Most would come up and ask me a couple questions, see what i wanted to do, where I wanted to go, etc....but Fred comes up and says, "So I hear you're a writer. That's cool...because, you know I'm a writer."

Now, us writers know when we meet another writer and, if not, when someone reveals theyre a writer its usually nas (translated: "It Aint Hard to Tell"). Sentence structure, articulation, vocab, descriptiveness, expressiveness -- there are some cardinal qualities. Qualities that Fred didn't posses even at an embryonic stage. I wanted to say "You're a writer? Really, is that why you're selling designer office furniture?" But then I thought, "Vince, you're a writer...and you're the one taking his calls, or lack thereof." So, I just said: "Really? That's cool man. It's always cool to meet an A-alike."

Then he peppers me with questions about freelancing and what type of writing I do -- a fairly engaging conversation...but then he hits me with the doozy: "Yeah, you know I write movies, too. As a matter of fact, I got a script I'm shopping it at the big studios right now...but I'm leaning toward keeping it independent."

If I were making a movie and Fred was character in it, that's exactly what I would've written for him to say...it was perfect. I wanted to call up one of my sisters or brothers right then to tell them about this dude.

He kept going though, "I'm like a real art guy. When I look at movies I'm always thinking how to make the story go better and ways to maybe do the camera different." Spoken like a kid destined to become the next Mike Nichols.

So, being artsy and all; he hits me with this one, "Wait till you see it. It's gonna be like the 2000, like "Boys-N-the-Hood'"

Yes!

Soon though, he's just on a rampage...he won't stop talking. Co-workers keep walking by and over-hearing this conversation, or should I say monologue, about his film aspirations...I'm sure they're thinking, "Get to work Frederick, you haven't even sold a pencil sharpner in two months."

Finally, the VP, Bernie from Boston ("The Sawx are my AL squad and I root for the Nats in the NL. I was at RFK Opening Day and it was awesome. Hate the hot dawgs though. We'll go to a game.") pops his head out and says, "Hey Frederick (no one calls him Fred, which I love). I'm gonna need you back here in a sec."

That was Thursday.

Friday I get a call around 11am.

"American Office, this is Vince."
"Hey Vince, it's Frederick Fant."
"Oh, what's goin on Fred?"
"Not much. As you've probably heard, I'm no longer with American Office anymore. They let me go yesterday evening."
"What? I'm sorry to hear that man. But I'm sure you'll be on to bigger, better things."
"Oh, yeah, you know it. We talked yesterday right? So, you know my plans. Man, I grew up in DC, but I was born for Hollywood. HaHaHa!"
I'm trying not to laugh, so my upper lip is trembling and quivering like when Barney Gumble burps on the Simpsons.
"So, what's up man. Who can I put you in contact with?"
"Anyone that hiring man. HaHaHa. Naw man, is Bernie in?"
"Yeah, one second Fred. And stay up man, I'm looking for that movie."
"Fa sho. You can be an extra in the police station. I'll have you answering phones. You got a lot of experience with that. Ha.Ha.Ha."

He greased me.