How to deal with the unkown

We just sat down to have our pre-production meeting and go over details for the anticipated shoot.   The director just passed out his revised scripts, something he thought would amp up the "humor."  I looked down directly in front of me, and the words literally jumped out at me like Mexican Jumping Beans.  Do Mexican beans jump?  I don't know, but this is what I saw on the script:

Cut to pit crew members running around the car in unison singing "Ice Ice Baby.  Ice Ice Baby too cold, too cold" while refilling Jeff Burton's car with the cold refreshing taste of Coke Zero.  

First silence.  Then the awkward clearing of the throats.  Then me leaping across the table to grab the script out of his hands.  

"No. No. There's no way. How? Why?  How could, why, no we cant, this...this is just....this can't happen!"  I nearly broke out in tears hearing this for the first time in front of the client.  

"And not to mention, this will make us look like no-good second class talent, especially after the 90's musical hit was featured on a recent episode of Glee!"  The revised scripts were quickly retracted and never seen of again.  

Instead. we moved on to wardrobe.  Anxious to finally see the Nascar approved driver and crew uniforms, my jaw literally hit the floor as I fainted at the site of blue nurse scrubs on all 20 actors.  How was I going to explain this to my team?  We couldn't get driving uniforms so they went with blue rags as back up?  

"They're going to kill me.  Kill me.  How am I going to explain this?"  I was panicking.

The line producer tried to console me, telling me it would be ok, she had good news about casting.  

"We found Detroit's best - these are real people, so it makes the spots even more authentic," she proudly sated.  As we drove throughout downtown, we suddenly stopped inside an abandoned parking garage, where we all hesitantly climbed out of the car like leeches.  

"All right, here we are.  Start picking!"  It was the ghetto capital of the universe.  Our spots are officially fucked.  

It was at that point that a loud, repetitive siren began to echo in the distance, resembling that of an alarm.  I jolted awake, relieved yet terrified that my job managed to slip into my subconscious and punk me.