I don’t want Peter Dinklage to ever win an Emmy ever again. And I love Peter and his Tyrion Lannister in Games of Thrones, but it just can’t happen again.

My panic levels just ran too high when his name was announced as the winner. I panicked a deep-seated, heart-pounding eye widening panic. My hand went over my mouth as I silent screamed “Oh noooooo!” and then I looked at everyone I was watching with and they were all smiling and I panicked more because that meant I was the only who was thinking about this one critical thing: the height of Peter Dinklage’s microphone on stage.

My mind raced ahead to him standing there, and this long uncomfortable silence as it lowered down, down, down, down, down, then – oh no, too low – and it would have to shift up, up. And the cameras would have to cut to Nicole Kidman because she’d be the one who definitely wouldn’t show emotion – but I wasn’t sure she was there. And then Peter Dinklage would have to stand there and think of a joke that would be funny but not snarky but not let people off the hook either because this kind of thing is no laughing matter. And then behind the scenes the intern whose one job it was to make sure the microphone was the right height for Hollywood actors, Hollywood actresses and other stars with exceptional height differences would be fired, and he would have to go home and tell his mum why, and the producer would call to shout at him again because Dinklage’s agent had called him personally to say he would not work again in this town – because in this town apparently they always say that. And the kid would become maladjusted, which would be sadly ironic because that’s what the microphone for Peter Dinklage was.

Yes that was my thought process while one man walked to a stage. And when he got there the microphone was at the perfect height. Perfect. Then I started to think about how they got it so right. Of course they Googled it. (Google states 4’5” for the record.) But Google isn’t enough in these situations. A phone call must have happened. Someone had to call Peter’s agent asking for his exact height in case he won. And the poor bastard/bastardess who had to make that call? Well there were short straw jokes at the office for sure, but the call was made which is weird and amazing.

And at that moment I loved Hollywood for its precision. For its impeccable political correctness. For its ability to bring us not only the finest fabricated drama always at the highest level, but this moment of man giving a speech with his mic – and everyone else’s – at the right height. I applaud that kind of attention to detail. I really do. And when Peter left the stage and I began to panic all over again about who would raise the mic – not behind his back surely they would wait/cut/go to commercial break or Nicole Kidman  – I told myself “Hollywood’s got this, Sue.” And maybe, just maybe Peter Dinklage can win again. Maybe.