Twelve or thirteen years ago I got a very friendly call from a producer on the Sony lot. I knew who he was but had never spoken to him or called his office about anything. “Jeff! Howya doin’?” His tone was car-salesman chummy. Almost like a guy trying to pick up a girl at a bar. I didn’t know what to say except “Uhhm….good! How are you?” It went on like that for another eight or ten seconds until he realized he’d dialed the wrong Jeffrey Wells. “Oh…uhhnn, okay…well, bye!”
Turned out there was an L.A. guy with the same name who drove a limousine, and lived at the time somewhere near Playa del Rey or Manhattan Beach, and was apparently very well liked by industry execs. That’s still the case because an assistant to a director-writer friend called yesterday looking for the same guy. Nice to know he’s still doing well after all this time. He doesn’t Google, even when you type “limousine driver” in front of the name. And he’s not findable through Switchboard. But he’s very popular with certain flush types, and very trusted.