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TaTaTaneisha

Yesterday, my office received the following e-mail:

"I am from this small town in [a southern state], but I will do whatever it takes to get out of this place and be somebody."

A nice response was sent, and I was reminded back to my early career in Texas.

I got a call that a student was there and wanted more information. I eagerly bounded down the stairs to meet the student. There she was in a simple dress, a brown paper bag with a grease stain, and a Mountain Dew. She introduced herself as TaTaTaneisha. I asked what she wanted to study.

"I don't know what you call it, but I just wanna bust out and be the next Whitney Houston," she said. 

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't.

I said that vocal performance would be the best option and asked if she had any experience. She said no.

"I just have a feeling. It's inside me, and I need to get it out."

Again, I wanted to laugh. I didn't. Who was I to keep the next superstar from the world?

I remember the conversation kept going and going, and somewhere in there, she told me she was living at a motel on the Clovis Highway. She was afraid that she would have to move because the owner didn't like her having so many men visitors.

And she winked. 

And I realized.

What was happening. 

While she was waiting to bust out as the next Whitney, she was making do as a hooker. 

A hooker. 

I gave her an application, a catalog, my card, and I sent her on her way.

I told my colleagues about our latest potential applicant, and went to lunch. 

When I returned, I had a voicemail from TaTaTaneisha. And it was raunchy. Raunchy. And it was invitation to help her complete application at the motel. All I needed to do was knock.

I freaked out.

Freaked!

I told my coworkers. They listened to the message. I documented the whole incident, detail by detail. I told my supervisor. I told her supervisor. I was sure it was going to be a scandal. 

Freaked!

And do you know what?

It was a joke. 

Not that TaTaTaneisha was a hooker. Or that she wanted to bust out. 

The message.

The voicemail had been expertly crafted by a colleague and carried out by another colleague in Dallas. 

And do you know what else?

I never heard from her again. 

Now, I wonder if any of these new superstars happens to be TaTaTaneisha and I just don't recognize her.

 

Settle Down, Slow Down

Put Your Hands Up