Frank Converse is a douche-bag

Okay. So I do have a small score to settle...

When Yours Truly was a wee pre-adolescent, I snagged a speaking role on a 70s television show starring Frank Converse and Claude Aikins. I worked with both of them for one day. Claude Akins, I remembered, was a featured player in "Planet of the Apes." My mother knew Frank Converse's work on early television, but I had never heard of him. On the day of shooting, I remember he took me aside and talked with me about the life of the actor. I had just screwed up a take. I didn't hit my mark because I was paralyzed with fear as a herd of cows stampeded towards me. All I remember were assistant directors waving red bandanas, knee deep in cow manure, luring them away from running me down, and the director screaming at me.

So Frank Converse and I had our moment of bonding. I will never forget how he told me not to feel bad. It was a difficult shot, but now that I had made the mistake, I wouldn't make it again.

He had that right. The next take was flawless.

Fast forward 12 years. Yours Truly, Tobias Lovecraft, is working at a small restaurant on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. One day, while I was working the lunch shift, Frank Converse came in for a cup of coffee and a Lemon Linzer Torte. Stunned, I served him without comment. He came in the next day. And the next. I suspected that he was working on a soap opera, but I never bothered to investigate further. It was before the internet, otherwise I would have Googled his ass. Anyway, after the fifth day, I decided to introduce myself.

"Um, you're Frank Converse, right?" I asked.

Without looking up from his Lemon Linzer Torte he replied, "Yeah."

"Well, do you remember when you were doing ****** and there was an episode with a herd of cows and a farmboy?" I continued, my voice breaking with excitement. Frank and I were pals, weren't we?

Still not looking up, Frank replied, "Yeah."

"Well, I was the farm boy." I said it triumphantly, while watching his reaction. He didn't flinch. He just poked at his Linzer Torte.

He picked up the last piece of Lemon Linzer Torte with his fork and studied it. "I remember the cows," Frank said, "but I don't remember you." He said the last moment looking me directly in the eyes, holding the fork in his mouth like he was thinking about stabbing me with it.

I walked away, bitch-slapped and annoyed. "That's okay, Frank," I thought, "In a few years no one will remember you, either."

Unfortunately, I still remember him. What a douche-bag!