will someone please save these people from themselves

Philip Henslowe: Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do? Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. Hugh Fenneyman: How? Philip Henslowe: I don't know. It's a mystery.

so. i have been involved with theatre since i was a mere 11 year old young lady. (no? well how about a mere 11 year old precocious loud mouth? better? good. let's proceed.) in the copious years of doing everything from performing as a dancing bar wench in a community theatre production of Oliver to stage managing at a regional theatre in florida, i have learned that the above quote from Shakespeare in Love is the most apt description of the art of live theatre. i was once stage managing a doomed production of Mame that was affectionately called Maimed. to start out with, mame was a little long in the tooth but did a fine job, none the less. vera was played by the biggest diva (who had nothing in the acting department to back up her 'tude. honey, i know that you were the shit when you were young and on some tired old soap opera, but now you're a has-been. sorry for the honesty.) who would periodically refuse to enter the stage from her directed blocking. opening night, mame fell down the grand staircase. a couple of nights later, the drugged up chorus boy in drag got his scrotum twisted in his dance belt. the plantation set toppled onto the cast one night. the ASM had a nervous breakdown and fled the show on the river of profanity spewing from his mouth. the various chorus boys cast were either hurt, quit the show or couldn't dance so there was quite a bit lacking in the big Mame song. it was awful, despite all my efforts to pull it off. but at the end of the night, the show still went on and it has since become fodder for "my theatre story is worse than your theatre story".

i am now under the employ of a city government run performing arts hall. here on the suncoast of florida stands the mighty purple cow. may she survive the tempest now a brewin'. i gratefully took a position with the theatre in the box office. technically i am "just" a city employee. i work 30 to 40 hours a week but because the city is cheep, i am filed under part time work. that is so i can't claim benefits. i essentially am a customer service rep. i find tickets for people and solve minor problems with ticket purchases. my customers rang from avid theatre goers that can name the original cast of pajama game and spout off the number of tonys it grabbed, to the poor soul who only wandered in because they won some tickets from some radio station for being able to identify some merle haggerd song. the other day, i took a call from some woman that wanted tickets to johnny cash's ring of fire. (a show that is based on the music of cash. like Mamma Mia! without the glitter and the platform shoes) the poor woman wanted to know if mr cash would be signing autographs after the show. stifling the urge to shout into the phone that her crazy ass would know the answer to that if she ever read a newspaper, i calmly stated, "ma'am, johnny cash is dead. he won't be able to attend the performance. i'm sorry." "whadda mean he's dead? when did this happen? are you sure?" "it was several years ago and yep, i'm sure." "well... i don't want tickets if i don't get to see the real johnny cash." "that's fine with me, ma'am." or, anytime we sell out of something. "i would like to see {insert some touring show in here}." "i'm sorry. we're sold out." "what do you mean, your sold out?" "i mean that there are no tickets left for this show. they have all been sold." " but i didn't get to buy my tickets." " i'm sorry for that (but i'm really not, and i'm actually laughing)." "but what am i going to do?" "i don't know." "can't you ask somebody else if there are any tickets?" "ma'am, these tickets sold out two weeks ago. there aren't any seats left to sell." "but i really wanted to go." i could keep going but i think that you really get the point. or you get the ones that complain that they bought the tickets for Rent and are now complaining that it was too loud and how were they supposed to know that it was a rock opera. it's like taking your 8 year old to see avenue q just because it has puppets. my customers make me laugh, cry, and die a little inside every time i talk to them.

but worse than the idiot customers is the other staff. the acting theatre director has no theatrical background and was some kinda government businessman before his ass was slapped into the captains chair. the daytime box office supervisor is a mental delinquent that has read every Danielle steel book and, again, has not a clue when it comes to theatre. she went to the crazy house once because her fiancee ran off on her and then 2 months later took his sorry ass back. stupid bitch. she also smells funny. not ha ha funny. more... uh oh funny. like stale pal mals and burnt maxwell house. the night manager is some strange creature that is a terminal yuppie/wanna be hippie. with an ethereal, breathy voice she will justify the purchase of a $30 piece of gourmet cheese at whole foods while ambling about in a simi-graceful way that makes me think of a baby heron trying to walk in grass for the first time. this woman spent 2 weeks in The City and refused to go to any broadway shows. for the sake of jebus -- she works in theatre. wait... at a theatre. meanwhile, all i want to do is lob footwear at both of them. i did, once, try to impale the day supe with a pen. i accidentally hit my best friend instead. so i played it off that i was stretching and lost control of the pen. but my friend knew the truth. (i'm sorry again about that pen thing, jess. hope your new glass eye is working out for you. i swear, it looks totally real.)

well, at least i have a job. and it is a pretty good gig overall. one just needs to vent. better here than actually beaning the day supe over the head with a stiletto.