My Rules For My Actors, or, The Shit I Put Up With.

(Gentle Readers, today I wanted to write a post about how our freedoms are being eroded by the TSA, in particular, the freedom to NOT get molested before every air flight, but it's not coming together and anyway, I am not in a rant-and-roar sort of mood. Instead, you're going to get a hopefully more fun post.)

Since I've been a stage manager for 20 years now, or thereabouts anyway, I decided that I would compile a list of the Stuff I Want To See Happen when I am stage managing. Without further ado (and very little editing), here it is.

1) Pick up your own shit. What are you, 3 years old? In particular, throw away your nasty used Kleenex and makeup sponges, do you know how many germs *I* can get when I have to touch your manky crap? Throw it away, please, in the receptacles provided.

2) Don't lose your shit. Because when you lose your shit, you freak out, which makes everybody else freak out, which means that my job suddenly becomes less about getting the show on its legs and more about keeping everybody from suddenly having emotional issues. Not only that, but when I have to spend an extra hour in the theatre after everybody else has gone home, looking for your shit, I miss the party and get less sleep for tomorrow's show, which will not endear me to you.

3) Don't talk shit. I believe in open, painfully honest communication. If you try to go all passive-aggressive on me, I will sling it right back at you, except that I'll lose the 'passive' part first. Just tell me what you frickin' want, I don't have all day to stand around trying to translate your needs, particularly when there are 40 other people standing in line behind you.

4) Don't make shit up. If you're late for your call because you have the world's biggest hangover since 1923, let me know so that I can prepare you a raw egg, coffee, tabasco and Worchestershire sauce smoothie. If you can't make your call because you just got into a car accident, let me know so I can send somebody to go get you and bring you to the show. Or, alternatively, so that I can inform your understudy. DO NOT SAY 'Oh, I'll be there in 10 minutes'. That doesn't help. The only exception is if you really are going to show up in ten minutes. And I have a stopwatch, so I will know.

5) Tell me about your shit. If you're having a bad day, if you've got the mother of all colds, if your grandmother just died, please, let me know. It's my job to make sure your life during this show is as easy as possible so that you can do your job to the best of your ability without interruption. If you need a bit of a shoulder to cry on or somebody to listen while you have a cathartic rage moment, or a neddy pot and sea salt standing by every time you come off stage, that's what I'm there for.But you know what? I can't do all of that if you don't clue me in. So talk to me. Open your yap and tell me what's going on. I might not be your Facebook friend.

6) Don't leave shit backstage that's not supposed to be there. Other people besides you live back there. This is their world too, respect it. This includes ALL of your props (they have a home at the props table, make sure they get back there!!) cigarettes (lit, previously smoked, and unused), used and new cough drops, chewing gum (again, used or not) and condoms (yes, in any condition). This also includes purses, articles of clothing, books, car keys, cell phones, and other technological items. And speaking of technology . . .

7) Turn your shit off. This wasn't a problem back in the early 90's and previous decades but it is now. If you've got a laptop, put it in sleep mode. If you've got an Ipod, turn it off or mute the volume. If you've got a cell phone, put it on vibrate or leave it off all together, and if you're a doctor or lawyer or are otherwise on call, give the blasted thing to me so that *I* can keep a watch on it, because I guarantee you I will be better at that than you will tonight. I can run messages, and you can't, for example.

8) If you insist on wearing expensive shit to the theatre, like jewelry, give it to me while you are onstage. The stage manager's booth is locked, and I'm the only person that goes in there. There are thieves out there that specialize in getting backstage during a show in order to rob people blind of wallets and jewelry (wedding rings in particular tend to walk away). If you don't feel comfortable leaving your stuff backstage, I can take it. I have a box in the booth for this purpose. I will give your shit back to you at the end of the night.

9) Leave your shit at home. This rule is meant mostly for your emotional crap, although I'm pretty sure that I don't want to see your actual luggage either, particularly not if the dressing room is tiny and you have to share it. If you've done your best, and you just can't leave it outside of the theatre, see Rule #5. Please don't try to do your job when your shit has got you in its grip. At best, it's a distraction, and at worst, its an actual physical liability.

10) If I tell you to do shit, do it. Please don't bug me about it, whine, or snarl about what a bitch I am behind my back. Your director is counting on me to turn whatever vision he has that will make you look great into your reality. So please, when I give you a note, don't argue with me. When I ask you to do something, just do it. And don't do the classic little kid ploy of dividing and conquering. I am the director's mouthpiece, I say nothing that hasn't previously gotten approved by him or her. I do nothing without prior approval. I can't even think thoughts that deviate from the plan, for the duration of the show. It's not my opinion coming out of my mouth, it's the director's. Really. If you go to your director, complaining about what I told you, the chances are good that the reply you'll get is 'No, she's right, do what she says'. So save us all the time, because it is a precious commodity, and accept what I'm telling you as the truth. Ok?

Spending Money

Yes, Gentle Readers, I am procrastinating going to bed. But I have news!

I bought my mandolin today! Go me. I also bought a hard drive for my laptop, which means no more cold noses and feet and fingers when I try to work in our office. Fish doesn't seem to mind the cold, but me? FREEZING.

This also means that I will be able to practice my instruments in the warm living room instead of here in the office, because I will be able to find my websites and so on with the laptop. No more cold winters. I am thrilled :)

I am so sorry you haven't heard from me in a while, Gentle Readers, it has taken me this long to recover from the Newfoundland Special cold.

I promise to keep writing as soon as something interesting happens in my life!