I guess I asked for it when I started watching Call My Manager, the Filipino HBO Max comedy-drama based on the French series, Dix Pour Cent (English title: Call My Agent). Directed by Erik Matti, the show follows three talent managers working for Shine Artist Management (SAM). There’s the cool and calculating Matthew Buenaventura (Edu Manzano), the high-strung Andrea Manuel (Judy Ann Santos), and the flawed-but-scrupulous Gabriel Soler (RK Bagatsing). Together, they’re sworn to keep their agency afloat after the death of its founder, Sam Mendiola (Edgar Mortiz) – all that, while juggling their clients’ whims with their crazy private lives.

It’s not just because it’s a star-studded and cameo-laden affair. We already have a lot of that here, be it in movies or in teleseryes. Ideally, it takes more than ensemble casts to impress a viewer, more so, to leave a lasting mark. The story should resonate. And to anyone who’s so much as set foot in that realm, this show does. Loudly.

Resonance in Heaps

Once upon a time, I was in those shoes. And, once upon a time, I shelved those shoes. I didn’t need to be a talent manager like the ragtag trio or, for that matter, still be in the industry to relate. It’s the “Been-There-Done-That (or Seen-That)” spirit of it all and the overall familiarity, from archetypes to jargon, that kept me hooked for eight straight weeks.

And if I had one kindred spirit among the leads, again, position aside, the closest would be RK’s Gab. He’s sharp in spotting potential and opportunities in odd places, but also principled enough to know when well-being was at risk. (Watch the episode where his talent had to undergo enhancements for a role). At least in terms of ethic, I was that character.

I never aimed to be a manager in the strictest sense. In the first place, my entry role was, broadly and vaguely put, to literally just be near artists, if not be at their beck and call. The scouting came in later, when I was asked to sit through auditions. That’s when I acquired the eye and I guess you can say the heart. But there’s always something monitors don’t readily reveal and that goes beyond simply being camera-ready.

In time, I saw the persons behind the potential, the souls behind the talent, and the inner workings behind how and why they dream or do what they do. For me, they’re not just commodities presented generically on catalogues, reduced to faces and stats, even though I’m aware that comes with the territory. But once again, they’re people. You don’t work on them, you work with them. It’s a mandate I carried, even when I tried casting independently.

Riding solo did earn me breakthroughs, but the project hunt started taking away more than it gave – at the extreme, even emotionally. Luckily, I was called back to my copywriting roots.

Living, Breathing Cameos

There was something grounding in writing for a stint again. To an extent, it did feel like a homecoming. But when Call My Manger became a weekly habit, that’s when the parallels began. I wouldn’t go as far as saying I was haunted, but it sure felt that way, in a non-scary sense.

I guess it started in that cafe owned by a budding actor I almost worked with. And it just so happened that we live in the same hood. Upon handing me my beverage, he went: “Boss, gusto ko pa umarte” (“Boss, I still want to act”). “So, how do you plan to go about that?”, I responded as I grabbed the cup.

What followed was a chain of amusing encounters, that almost mirrored the frequency of the show’s celebrity guests. A month later, there was that soap brand event, for which I wrote the script. There, I ran into Valeen Montenegro, whom I spent a lot of time with in my early years of Artist Relations. She was a guest speaker in said affair, which culminated with Kris Aquino’s first public appearance in years. As I heeded a colleague’s request for a photo-op, I quipped: “Yang si Valeen, kababata ko yan, eh. Joke (Valeen is my childhood friend. Joke.).” She laughed, then paused as the joke further sank in. To which, she responded: “Parang oo nga rin” (Come to think of it, yes).

More encounters followed suit, like when I drove Mom and her friends to Wilma Doesnt’s family restaurant in Tagaytay and Wilma Doesnt actually happened to be there. And news flash: Wilma Doesnt DOES mingle with her customers. Weeks later, I once swung by the former workplace to visit a friend, and walked into a Sharon Cuneta guesting in the process.

It was like walking around with an open portal hovering near, tempting me to walk back in. I guess I forgot: chapters never really close in my book. Some get re-read, while others get rewritten. We take the best plot points to form a new, greater story. The trick is to witness it unfold real time. And it beats languishing in What-Ifs.

Season Break

Call My Manager ended with a cliffhanger – apparently, a set-up for another season, which will hopefully be the case. I guess that’s where I am, and the “Up Next” bumper’s already playing. Perhaps I didn’t totally leave that life, only the aspects of it that diminished me.

But then, my long-time friend, Sheena, served me a truth bomb in a recent dinner: “You should stop doing that, you know: rallying for people who don’t rally for you; pushing others’ visibility, while you remain unseen”. Having known me for 18 years, she was more than qualified to do that lecture. To no surprise, we wrapped up near closing time.

In industry speak, a callback is when you invite a pre-qualified aspirant for another look. It doesn’t always secure the part. It doesn’t require one to accept it either. In my case, it takes on a different meaning and the invitation stays open. They’re not a callback to once held me back. They’re a callback to my core.