For the ultimate shopping experience here, book The Private Suite, where VIPs and Hollywood stars hang out in private rooms complete with personal shoppers.

“Hey! Are you Anna Kendrick?”

The woman with the four-hundred-dollar haircut kept her head down as she passed us.

“We know it’s you, Anna!”

She stopped and turned. “What do you want?”

“We’re from Westfield Century City Mall. I’m Jack, and this is Bethany,” my partner began. “We have an offer for you.”

“Please contact my agent. Have a good day,” said Anna. She turned away and continued walking at a quicker pace.

“Hold on!” I cried, as we speedwalked to match her pace. “Okay here’s the thing: we need VIPs and Hollywood stars. Like you! You’re a Hollywood star. Our management is launching this thing called the Private Suite, where it’s like, shoppers get to hang out with VIPs and Hollywood stars. Here, let me read the blurb,” I said, fumbling with my stack of notes. “For the ultimate shopping experience here, book The Private Suite, where VIPs and Hollywood stars hang out in private rooms complete with personal shoppers. The trouble is, they already announced it, and now it’s up to the two of us to actually wrangle up the Hollywood stars to fill the Private Suite. Otherwise the customers who are booking the Private Suite will figure out that we don’t actually have any stars yet and they will leave bad reviews.”

By now I was winded, and Anna had already reached her private limo, but she turned around to face us. “So you’re saying, you want me to sit in a room all day so that randos who pay you can talk to me?”

“It’ll be fun!” I said. “Once we get the other VIPs of course! And of course we’ll pay you, um, whatever they pay us. A big cut of that.”

“I have a job,” she said, disappearing into the limo.

We gave chase for half a block before we lost her.

“Who’s next on the list?” I asked my partner.

“We just keep circling. Chris Rock lives around here this time of year. And next time, Beth,” he said to me, “try not to say ‘wrangle’.”