by Bob Hoffman (@adcontrarian), San Francisco Bay Janet Warren was one one of those impossibly wonderful girls. Not just pretty, not just smart, but nice and pleasant and friendly. Often her father would have letters to the editor published in The New York Times. She was a cheerleader with actual cheer.
Naturally, she had no idea I existed. But she lived in the next building, and her sister was friendly with my sister.
I was in Los Angeles once, years after high school, and I saw her in a popular restaurant. She was with a group of obviously high-performance individuals, and she was the star of the crowd. I studied her from across the room. She was in her early 30’s and had an ethereal almost-hippie, almost-executive look and manner. I found out, years later, that she had been the producer of some pretty important movies.
Years passed and as circumstances sometimes unfold, I had occasion to have lunch with her. I explained to her who I was, and of course, she didn’t remember me. She was still lovely in that way that women over 50 can be lovely if they dress simply and tastefully and don’t have surgery and don’t try to be 20.
She had adopted a child. She was active in many organizations that worked for social justice. She was no longer an active producer, but still had great poise and presence.
We exchanged a few emails following our lunch. I wanted to become friends, but after a while she gracefully stopped emailing, saying she was too busy. I knew what that meant. Several months later I was surprised when she friended me on Facebook.
Lately, on my Facebook page, I find ads that tell me that “Janet Warren Likes Walmart.”