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Power Magnet

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I don’t want to brag, but I keep attracting the most powerful people in town.     By Hannah Wallace   I am a powerful person magnet. True, 95 of our July issue’s “Sarasota’s 100 Most Powerful People” wouldn’t recognize me if I walked up and introduced myself. With a nametag. And a resume. But […]

July 10, 2007


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I don’t want to brag, but I keep attracting the most powerful people in town.  
 
By Hannah Wallace
 
I am a powerful person magnet. True, 95 of our July issue’s “Sarasota’s 100 Most Powerful People” wouldn’t recognize me if I walked up and introduced myself. With a nametag. And a resume. But even if they don’t realize it, the powerful people insist on being in my presence.


Seat of power: Me at work, contemplating my influence.
 
Here’s the perfect example. A few Wednesdays ago, I got to the Sarasota airport to pick up my mom just in time to see her boss, Michael Donald Edwards, waiting to board the same plane. Then we headed to Captain Brian’s for lunch and spotted vice mayor Kelly Kirschner holding court with some constituents in the parking lot.
 
It happens all the time. I saw Tony Souza on the sidewalk (Main Street, of course) the other day. I ran into Matt Orr at Whole Foods. Judi Gallagher and I are constantly winding up in the same restaurants (which is reassuring as far as my tastes are concerned).
 
Margaret Wise plays on my hockey team. (OK, that’s not really true, but how cool would that be?)
 
Anne Folsom Smith and I see each other in the bathroom all the time—sure, her office is right across the hall, but that just puts her in my power bubble that much more frequently.
 
Years ago, hauling boxes of InParadise magazines, I walked right by Stephen King at the Hollywood 20 during the Sarasota Film Festival. (At least, I think that was him.) Speaking of, Jody Kielbasa sat at my table during the re-opening of the Historic Asolo Theater. (Vern Buchanan stood next to me in line for the bar.)
 
Guy Peterson follows me around, building gigantic houses in my wake.
 
But nothing beats my string of Jerry Springer sightings a little while ago. Seriously, the guy was stalking me. I saw him at Southgate, at the Asolo, on St. Armands. Ever jealous, he sat right behind my date once at Café Epicure, no doubt trying to sway my affections. (It worked, to an extent—that was the most exciting part of the evening.)
 
But maybe I’ve got this backwards. Maybe I don’t attract powerful people; maybe these people are powerful because they’re always around me. I mean, c’mon, guys—Jerry, Vern, quit mooching my power.