Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 25th: My first

I was sitting in a hotel room with my pen and paper ready, and my recorder too, just in case I forgot something. Because sometimes this 'something' is the little detail that slips away when you make your quick notes. Details that can change the whole meaning in a sentence or the whole context.

I was twenty five and just graduated. I was officially a journalist, and I was pretty exhausted after working day and night on my masters degree. Still, when I was told to do my first interview with the one and only Michael Jackson, I forgot all about how tired I was. He'd been my all time idol, and someone I'd looked up to ever since I was a little girl. So it was safe to say that I would be fangirling quite a bit when the time came and he finally would enter the room. But only on the inside. I'd learned to keep an open mind. Being objective was a necessity. Still, when I heard the commotion outside my door, I felt both giddy and nervous at the same time.

There he was. Michael Jackson, the enigma that had changed the musical industry by raising the bar so high that he'd created his own category for musicians. Everything he did was iconic. His singing and dancing, of course. But also his fashion and his tireless work to make the world a better place. And now he was in the same room as me, talking to his security guard, who sat down on a chair next to the door. So far, everything went according to the plan. Even the time schedule, which I found pretty impressive. I knew there were a few other journalists waiting for him as well. I was number two in line, and had twenty minutes of his precious time to do what I was supposed to do.

"Be professional," I whispered to myself and got up from my seat, straightened my back and smiled. The fact that my palms were sweaty from nervousness, made me even more nervous than I already was. Not to mention; embarrassed. But he didn't seem to notice.

"Hello, Sir. I'm Jessie Reynolds and I come from 'Quality and luxury'."

He gave me a curious look and a lopsided smile, and shook my hand politely. Then I gestured to the sitting area, and we both sat down on each side of the coffee table.

"I've never heard of that one before."

"Yeah," I dragged, and stared at my pen that was squeezed in a death grip between my fingers.
"It's a pretty small magazine. But the sales numbers have increased quite a lot the last year, and that's why I got this job."

"Ahh, so you're a newbie then," he chuckled and sat back, with his hands folded on his lap.

"Fresh out of school, Sir," I giggled, relieved that he seemed so relaxed and down to earth.

"Well, congratulations then."

"Thanks."

I cleared my throat and sat up straighter, focusing on my notepad in front of me.

"I guess you're a thousand times more used to this than I am," I admitted, feeling a bit awkward. I mean, he was forty five and had been doing this for four decades.

"You're familiar with the questions and the recorder, right?"

He nodded expectantly.

"Good. So let's start. First question: Looking back at your career as an artist, which three words would be the most illustrating to describe it."

"Oh," he exclaimed thoughtfully.
"Starting with the most difficult questions at first, are we?"

Both of us giggled.

"I'm honestly not sure what to answer on that one, because it has been such a long adventure. But I guess magical, exhausting and... Hm. Happy."

"Exhausting?"

He shrugged.

"It's been a lot of hard work throughout the years, and I still have more to come. Maybe the hardest work so far."