Tag Archives: work

no longer unemployed

{01 July 2009}

i’ve started and failed to finish a whole series of posts about my new home (lots of spiders, deer in the front yard at twilight) and new town (people are so small-town quirky and friendly, it’s like i live in the west coast version of that town the Girlmore Girls live in, only everyone here is all tanned and into mountain biking after work).

i’ll get to some of that, but the past few evenings, given the complete lack of nightlife/social life here in the MV, back aching from shoving boxes to and fro all day, i’ve curled up in my arm chair in the front room and read or re-read all the scripts of the plays we are producing this season*. and they are great. all of them. it’s good to have a reminder of why i did all this: why i put myself through all the work of itemizing and evaluating and selling or donating or packing and unpacking and sorting every one of my belongings, the administrative detritus of closing and reopening utilities and bank accounts and registrations and addresses, through the dismantling of my personal life and all the doubts and regrets and heartache i’ve incurred on that front. when i start work tomorrow, it will be such a relief to finally be spending my days thinking about something besides moving. and to start doing what i am good at (what i will hopefully continue be good at): making good theatre. it’s definitely not going to be easy, not this first year, or probably the years after that, but i believe in these plays. it always, in the end, comes back to the text — i learned that working in a company that produced classic works and now that i’m back to doing new work, it resonates even more clearly. i want to make theatre that has some teeth to it, some truth to it. it’s okay with me if it’s messy around the edges. but if there is a moment of truth, if there is a moment of perfect beauty — i live for that, i will turn my life upside down and move across the country for that. and each of these scripts strikes some chord in me somewhere. now, let’s see if i can realize them in a way that strikes a chord in the audiences and artists that come in my doors. when, tomorrow, they become my doors.

* which are, for the record: My Name is Asher Lev, by Aaron Posner (adapted from the novel by Chaim Potok); Boom, by Peter Sinn Nachtrieb; Sunlight, by Sharr White; Equivocation, by Bill Cain; and Woody Guthrie’s American Song, by Peter Glazer

moving anxiety dream #1

{03 May 2009}

last night i dreamed that i’d been hired to be the production manager at a well-known chicago theatre company. i hadn’t officially started the job yet, but i was in the theatre building for some reason. one of the production staff took me aside. “there’s something you need to see,” she told me, and handed me a worn leather-bound journal. the journal turned out to be the secret diaries of the previous production manager. he’d had to write all these missives in secret, hidden in the closet or the basement or whatever, and they were all about how the theatre in question was a terrible place to work. after reading them i knew i had to get out, but how? i was trapped. it was all very harry potter.

it’s nice when at least my dreams are transparent.

{14 April 2008}

for all the griping i sometimes do about work, i should mention here that i love my job(s) and am very grateful i have said job(s).

it’s a dark day for the industry when this happens.

april 22 post-script:
thank you comment box, for reminding me. there are (at least) two other regional theatres that closed their doors recently: Studio Arena in buffalo (where i did a stage management internship years ago), and also Willamette Rep in Oregon.

overheard today at work:

{06 February 2008}

the punchline to a joke told by our sound engineer: “Duh. It’s the hundred-and-ten volt to two-hundred-twenty volt XLR to camlock adapter.” hilarious laughter ensues. this was only funny to the joke teller and recipient. ah, tech geek humor.

the carpenters defending their choice to play Phil Collins all afternoon in the shop: “But occasionally the 80’s happens to everyone.”

My boss, printing out a diagram about what parts of a pig are tastiest (answer: all of them): “I’m just going to add that to my wall of pork love.”

and finally, this gem is from the stage manager’s report:

Titus Performance Report #12

* The wardrobe ladies were sent on a frantic mission to find
Eddie’s show shoes, only to discover 10 minutes before curtain that they were on Anish’s feet.

jungle on the Dan Ryan Expressway

{14 December 2007}

the weird things i do for my job…

like driving 60 mph down the expressway in my own personal jungle…

back away from the starbucks, fake ficus tree!

for the reenactor on the go!

{22 September 2007}

while this topic is nothing new, it never really gets old (for me, anyway): the random shit i get to shop/purchase at my job. today’s favorite thing that came in the mail was the Museum Replicas Ltd catalog, featuring, among other things, renaissance eating utensils, packaged in a convenient leather pouch, “for the reenactor on the go!”

is ren faire-hopping really so stressful an activity? really?

now i am ordering 3 gallons of stage blood.

blending

{19 September 2007}

although i work on a college campus, i don’t interact with the actual campus all that often – my theatre is located on the northern edge, i drive in, i work, i leave – and most of my interaction with “the university” is in adapting my department’s purchasing and payroll systems so they’ll interface with the university’s bookkeeping behemoth. this evening during dinner break i took a walk across campus to get a book from the library. it was twilight, a warm, late-summer evening. all the undergrads are back on campus but there’s no homework or classes yet, so the students were out in full force: dressed in board shorts and halter tops that will soon be rendered obsolete, groups of freshman moving swiftly across campus in packs of three and four, talking about home, about which AP exams they took, about picking a major. circles of kids throwing a frisbee while a perky RA tries to get them to learn each other’s names, bands playing in the dormitory courtyard, party-cup holding guys bobbing their heads and casting sideways glances at the girl from down the hall. the hush of the long winter, and classes, will descend soon enough; for tonight everything under the full moon is new.

by contrast, the library was eerily vacant, only a few grad students lurking in their carrels. i dearly love the muted hush of dimly-let library stacks. but i find going into a new library for the first time to be terribly intimidating; will i know where the stacks are? will there be a map showing what floor my call number is on? is that computer the catalog or the internet kiosk or both? where ARE the stairs to the 4th floor? what if the book i want just isn’t there? will i have to talk to a mean old librarian or will i get a bored grad student? will i look dumb? (am i the only one with library insecurities? probably).

the year after i graduated i found excuses/cause to sneak back into the libraries at stanford, (handing over my deactivated student ID card and explaining to the student at the desk that it wasn’t working because of the wrinkle in the magnetic strip and could they please just buzz me thru) but after that first year i detached somewhat from the world of the research library and suddenly i find myself, seven years out of academia, holder of a chicago public library card that i use but rarely.* still, i find that negotiating the main campus library required the same sort of zen flow that one uses when navigating a huge foreign transportation hub like the main tokyo rail station or heathrow airport; if you just move with the flow of traffic, and don’t stop to think too hard about where you came from and where you’re trying to get to, it usually works out right, even if you can’t read the kanji. i drilled down: the right floor, the right stack, the right call number, and there was my book; three english translations to choose from plus several in the original czech. as i was puzzling over translation a tinny old school bell rang to signify closing time; i selected one at random and flowed back down to the main floor. at the circulation desk a bored student looked up at me, took my book, my staff id card, scanned both and handed them to me: “due back january 20th.” (january 20th? not a lot of demand for early 20th century czech sci fi, i guess.) book in hand, task succesfully navigated, i still felt vaguely like an imposter, like someone would notice i didn’t belong, that the “staff” label on my ID card clearly excludes me from the legitimate pool of students and faculty who of course know their way around a library. i’m a janitor. the lunch lady. hospital intake coordinator. production coordinator for an obscure university subsidiary arts organization. still, the old rule seemed to hold true: if i just *look* like i know where i’m going, no one ever stops to question me. it’s a rule i apply in the rest of my life and career, unconsciously as much as anything. people often comment on how in-control and on top of things i seem. really? seriously? wow. that’s great. risky for you, good for me.

*i like paperback editions i can dog-ear ruthlessly, not to mention carry in my bag without undue weight of hard covers. also, i love the aesthetic of the shiny cover art, clean modern fonts, spines i can bend or break till they lay flat on the breakfast table.

phrases i’ve had cause to use at work this week

{13 September 2007}

i got pig trotters because they still have the flesh on them and they look like little boys’ arms.

well, then we won’t use cat vomit for the blood.

but is it BAD to breath neon gas?

is ‘banana guard’ an euphemism for something i should know about?

do me a favor and call me if you think she’s going to call me about anything.

as long as it doesn’t catch on fire like it did in philadelphia, that’s alright.

catch up installment of come here, go away

{03 August 2007}

1. come here, vacation in idaho
the schedule was thus: wake up with the sun, 7 or whenever. go for a run on forest trails or logging roads. see some deer or other wildlife. come back, shower, breakfast. spend the morning reading or doing chores around the cabin, or sitting on the back porch with my ibook and wireless internet. forest, meet internet. internet, meet forest. maybe nap. late lunch, then bike into town. swim in the lake, then go to the grocery store and plan the evening’s meal. cook dinner with family and friends. spend the evening throwing a frisbee on the golf course, walking the dog in the meadow, watching movies, playing speed scrabble with my brother and sister-in-law.

2. go away, coming back from idaho
my boss is off getting married so that means that i get to be the boss for a while. it turns out his work suits me. what doesn’t suit me is doing his job and mine. where’d my summer go?

3. come here, veronica mars
season one has hijacked all of the time i would have otherwise spent reading books/sleeping in the past couple of weeks. curse lau for loaning me the complete first season! i finished it last night, but it turns out she sent me home with season two, also, so i’m not out of the woods yet. the fact that i know the series was abruptly canceled at the end of season three, however, makes me sad even as i invest in the first season. WB dramas, i love you.

4. come here, pandora
how did i not know about www.pandora.com until now? i’d vaguely heard of it before, but never really bothered to try it out till this week. i heart it.

5. come here, ultimate frisbee
i have a new love. take that, track workout! i’ve begun counting ultimate frisbee as speedwork for marathon training. we play saturday mornings, which means that i have to do my long run alone on sundays, but i don’t care.

6. go away, stinky hot weather.
i get home from running at 7am and i literally can’t stop sweating for the first 15 minutes or so. my body has become a sieve.

7. come here, 400 mile merit badge!
last week i ran my 400th mile since marathon training started. this is peak mileage month; if all goes well and i stay healthy/uninjured, i should hit 500 by the 25th or so.

8. go away, repetitive stress injuries
tendonitis and soft tissue strains and stress fractures are circling one another warily, growling low in their throats. on the upside, i got to see an x-ray of my foot (and no stress fracture after all!). there’s something fascinating about seeing a picture of one’s own bones. like, that isn’t just a black and white picture of foot bones on the screen, a theoretical image of what feet look like, those are mine. that’s me.

9. come here, awesome car-free weekend:
date with a cute boy on friday (i beat him at darts! turns out drinking beer actually IMPROVES my aim). ultimate frisbee on saturday followed by a double at ye olde corporate theatre gig. pick up organic veggie farm share with the first sweet corn of the season. sunday morning an easy 10-miler, followed by brunch at Over Easy with an old college friend. afternoon margaritas and chips and salsa with A and J, then 500 clowns‘ 365 project. finished the evening watching poi fire dancing at foster street beach – take out sushi and smuggled-in PBRs and crazy hippy drum circle, while the full moon rose over the still black lake. kept the car parked and rode my bike all over all weekend, and as a karmic reward, enjoyed excellent public transit timing every time i looked for a bus/train.

10. come here, popularity dialer
.

cover letter 101

{26 May 2007}

so, badly written cover letters are my pet peeve. this week i’ve been sorting resume and cover letters for a crew position i’m hiring at work. a few of my favorite excerpts from this morning:

“Strong personal skills I possess are, leadership, attention to detail, organization…” (you can’t put a glaring punctuation error in the same sentence in which you tell me your attention to detail is good!)

“I am a graduating student of B— B—, and she has given me your name as a contact for securing a position for either this summer or next season at Victory Gardens” (wrong theatre)

“I am writing after hearing about stage management openings at Timeline Theatre…” (again, wrong theatre)

“…where I was in charge of all the backstage technical elements including props, costumes, the fly system, and bubble machines.” (bubble machines?)

“Selected Accomplishments: Staying within thirteen cents of a $100,000 budget” (I so want to call him in for an interview just to say, ‘so, did you figure out where the missing 13 cents went?’ and watch his head spin around poltergeist-style. Being anal retentive is something I understand, so I’m allowed to mock it in other people)

“I’m a go-for-it guy – the kind of person you need as your next Page.” (I’m hiring a Page? as in a knight’s apprentice? will he bring my horse round for me?)

“Also, I’ve done this exact job before, not in your theatre, but at many other locations. It is one of the few jobs on the planet that I’ve found, doesn’t ever make me tired, or get old.” (wow, we’re hiring for our fountain of youth? the anti-aging job?)

“Buddy was also representative of my quintessential delegation…” (your what?)

“I display: Exquisite paperwork,” (really? what exactly IS exquisite paperwork? will it come dipped in fine chocolate and be something I can eat? at least be illuminated with little pictures of monks and gold dust on the edges?) “…the ability to work with performers and crew on satisfying individual needs,” (okay, now you just asked for that one to sound dirty…) “…special skills, including thorough computer knowledge” (I don’t think that using a computer can be considered a “special” skill any longer).

“I am 22 years old, single, a downtown Chicago resident…If I do not hear back from you in the next few weeks, I will try to reach you by phone to possibly try to set up a meeting.” (ah, don’t call me, and I won’t call you.)

but really, people, learn to proof read your cover letters. would you come into a job interview with a big stain down the front of your shirt?

i can’t claim to know much about the rest of the job market, but as for my biz, i know me some good cover letter writing. here are the guidelines:

1) keep it short – i have not yet encountered any justifiable reason to go over a single page.

2) PROOFREAD! seriously. you are formally introducing yourself on paper. if we met in person you wouldn’t go to shake my hand and, being careless, accidentally grab my ankle, right? you wouldn’t show up at the wrong theatre and expect to hired, yeah?

3) do tell me: 1) what job you’re applying for, 2) who you know, 3) the briefest of biographical info as pertains to the position without simply repeating your resume, and 4) what your availability is with regard to the job and interviewing. that’s all.

4) do not tell me what a stage manager does. would i be allowed to hire a stage manager if i didn’t already have a pretty good idea of the necessary duties and required skill set?

5) do not tell me what qualities i should be looking for in the person that i hire. i have a pretty good idea of what i’m looking for.

6) if you have an unusual skill that might come in handy in this position, you can highlight it. if the most original, or most flattering, details about yourself that you can come up with are that you are: smart, detail-oriented and hard-working, save the paper and ink. i’ll probably be able to figure that out on my own. who makes it this biz who ISN’T smart, detail-oriented and hard-working? dumb lazy careless people don’t go into theatre, and if they do, they don’t last.

that concludes our lesson in cover letters today.