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Reports from UTA's holiday sweepstakes, in which the agency divided the town's assistants into Golden Ticket winners, bitter, chocolate-eating losers, and a third, progressively more bitter faction of those snubbed entirely, have been trickling in all day. Suffice it to say that those who found themselves with $100 to $5,000 of unexpected cash are pretty delighted with the results (our new thousandaire pals at SorryIGotDrunk are already wasted and busy with lapdances, we think), but the others, well, we haven't heard of any candy-related assistant-on-assistant violence yet, but this review of the gift sums it up:

Are you fucking kidding me!?

I've been in this assistant racket for a while. I do my best to be greatful for ANY gift as I am often the one cutting and pasting lists well into the nite; distro-ing gifts I didn't pick out then having to listen to people complain about them. It's a thankless job and I am a grateful girl. But this is BEYOND the pale.


The outside of the box reads: Feeling lucky this holiday?

Sure, why not. I have my health, a nice apartment and food to eat. Never mind that I work 60 hours a week for peanuts. I work for a nice boss. He doesn't scream or throw things. I work in Hollywood, there's a line of folks a hundred miles long who would kill for my job so why not, I feel lucky.

The wrapper on the rather large bar reads "Lucky Bar Tis the season to be golden."

What does that even MEAN!?

You flip the bitch over: "Peace Love and Happy Holidays for your friends at UTA (friends is a strong word, is it not?) Now dig in to see if you've got the golden ticket!"

I'm a sucker. I'm thinking - they wouldn't send out bars WITHOUT tickets - this is just some gimicky thing. They'll be a gift certificate to arclight or something inside. Cute.

Not so much. Now WHY on earth, at the beginning of one of the most stressful weeks in an assistant's life, would you send out a cock tease of a gift. Oh, sorry, you AREN'T lucky. You're gonna be stuck behind that desk for the rest of your life answering phones, juggling pitch meetings and making sure someone ELSE'S salad has the right amount of sugar free dressing on it. This is with out a doubt the most thoughtless gift in the history of bullshit holiday gifts.

UTA - I'm putting you on notice. My boss will be unavailable to you all day. I don't care if Peter fucking Benedek is on the line. We will return.

Still no word of a $5,000 winner, but that might be because he or she's already dead.