The Life Changing Lesson I Learned By Peeing Next To Della Reese
By: Wendy Miller
Tags: Careers, Life Lessons, Sexism, Bullying, Television

The Life Changing Lesson I Learned By Peeing Next To Della Reese

There are certain people in this world. You probably know one of them. The people who are missing that little filter that goes between their brain and their mouth. No matter what they’re thinking, they say it. As if affected by gravity it just falls from their brain right out of their face. I’m not one of those people. I own and operate that particular filter.

Most of the time.

Several years ago, I was writing a fun little talk show that was produced by a very big and scary multinational conglomerate. Those of you in the know can narrow that down to about 3 potential companies but I choose not to name the actual company. See? That’s because I have the filter.

Well near the top of this very big and scary multinational conglomerate were many, many, many big and scary executives. You can’t have big and scary companies without big and scary executives. They need each other to exist, thrive and multiply. One of those big and scary executives was overseeing our fun little talk show. Like many big and scary executives this woman…uh oh, the filter just leaked a little…this PERSON liked to carry herself with an air of authority that would make Vlad the Impaler tremble. I used to wonder if she went through elite corporate training to master that skill.

Walking the long halls of Television City, she had a unique way of making her beige, patent leather, Etienne Aigner pumps sound like jackboots.

This woman was a lifer at the big and scary multinational conglomerate. I never once saw her crack a smile. In fact, I think her face would actually have to crack in order to form a smile. Have I said too much?

Filter!

I was employed as a writer on this fun little show which was ironic because the host was known for improvising everything and not being in need of writers. So, for all intents and purposes, none of us writers existed. They called us “producers” because we produced the words that the host said.

Semantics.

Part of my job as a nonexistent writer had me sitting in the broadcast booth during the tapings “not” to write the teases which were also “not” written by anyone. As if that job wasn’t difficult enough, at every taping, sitting a few feet away from me in the booth was the aforementioned stone-faced Executrix. I could easily touch the imitation pearl epaulet buttons on her silk blouses.

Filter!!!

Because I was basically nonexistent, the Executrix chose quite deliberately never to make eye contact or say a word to me. Ever. For the show’s senior producers and host, she was all smiles…or as close as she could get to a smile.

But I was nothing. I was an unwashed, rat-faced garbage person TV writer. I did not exist.

Everyone knew that this woman was dangerous and powerful. Come on, she had epaulets on her blouses. So, always the rule follower, I avoided eye contact and kept my head the required distance below her perfectly-coiffed short blonde hair. Oooops!

Filter!!!

Near the end of the first season, I realized that my job not writing the fun little talk show was coming to an end. There are subtle clues, everyone around you gets fired, the host stops talking to you, no one will sit with you at the Emmy Awards…all the little signs that you’ll be handing in your sweet studio parking pass very soon. So, as my days were winding down, I found myself as always, sitting in the booth “not” writing one of the last episodes of the season.

During a commercial break I ran to the bathroom just outside of the booth. Who walked in immediately following me? None other than TV’s Della Reese. Chico and The Man, Harlem Nights and Touched By An Angel’s Della Reese! The legendary, Reverend Miss Della Reese!

I was in one stall, TV’s Della Reese was in the other one. We both did our biz, washed our hands and left. She went wherever Della Reese normally goes and I returned to my seat in the control room and took my place adjacent to the Executrix. At that very moment, after an entire year of blatantly snubbing me, the big, scary, epauletted Executrix, completely unprovoked, turned to me and said, “How are you, Wendy?” To which I immediately responded…

“I just peed next to Della Reese.”

Whatever air was in that room was quickly sucked out. I’m certain I heard someone gasp. Oh my god, where the hell was my filter?!?! I could have easily said, “I’m just dandy thanks. You?” I could have said, “Oh me? Why I’m fit as a fiddle.” I could have said, “Nice epaulets.” I could have said so many things to her. But no. At that very moment, after an entire year of being stepped over like vomit in the parking lot of a Smash Mouth concert, I chose to reply, “I just peed next to Della Reese.”

Yep, MY FILTER VANISHED, soon followed by my job and not long after that, the fun little talk show. But that particular moment has rerun over and over again in my head. Just like the My Pillow guy, it won’t go away. Nope, in that unretractable millisecond, due to my faulty filter, I sealed my fate forever.

MOTHERFILTER!!!!!!!

But we all know that not all mistakes are mistakes. Many “accidents” are actually quite deliberate. Looking back, I realize this comment was no accident at all. This fleeting moment was my only real shot at revenge. And I leaned right into that shit with a full clip. For the entire run of that show I was rendered entirely powerless and worthless by this woman, 100% by design. And I bought into it. I actually believed it. So, after being entirely disregarded and treated like garbage by this woman for an entire year, I had one tiny moment, one split second to continue to bow down to her…or be me.

I’m a comedy writer. What were you expecting? Tact?

Yep, this moment, my last hurrah, my blaze of glory, my only shot at redemption was as calculated as this woman’s entire demeanor. If I was going out, I was going out with a big, fat, inappropriate bang.

This was for all of the bullies I cowered to in middle school. All of the power I gave away to snot-nosed 12 year old assholes who’d simply figured out the game long before me.

This was for one particularly repulsive female VP at NBC with damaged hair, who made it her daily ritual to trash me at any opportunity she got and then deny it. I remember walking into her office one afternoon, my fists clenched with the goal of punching her in either of her faces. I didn’t do it.

I still kinda regret that.

This was for my male superiors who blatantly stared at my tits in meetings and then during performance reviews accused me of “sitting defensively” because my arms were crossed in front of my chest. Can you imagine a man admonishing his male employee for “sitting defensively” in meetings?

Every single denigration, humiliation, manipulation or sexist confrontation I endured over my career came to a head in that very moment. I finally lost control in the control room and answered her question 100% honestly…with no fucking filter. And in one brief, shining moment, I took back all of the power I’d ever given away. My weapon of choice was simply answering her question.

“I just peed next to Della Reese.”

Life is made up of split second decisions and despite all of our planning, it’s usually in the tiniest moments where everything changes. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. In my case, it was a little of both. But even in losing that job, I gained something much more valuable — the knowledge that I finally stood up to a bully and got a big laugh at the same time. For that opportunity, I am truly thankful for finding my inner strength after my bathroom encounter with Miss Della Reese.

Oh, and speaking of going out with a bang, not long after me, the Executrix was fired in an allegedly scandalous, escorted-out-of-the-office-by-security way. Yep.

She now wears a sailor suit every day at her new job in Branson.

I’ve gone on to write other TV stuff.

And, after a truly groundbreaking career, Miss Della Reese passed away in 2017.

Wendy Miller is an Emmy Award winning TV producer and the host and creator of the wildly successful podcast, Sex Ed The Musical. She is currently writing her memoir, and a guidebook on how to keep a man happy forever. Spoiler Alert: It’s not that difficult.