I once worked a rental which basically amounted to a vanity production: this actor (who had moved cross-country) was desperate to break into the big leagues, so he rented the theatre on his own dime and mounted a one-man show.
His cheque cleared, so why not, right?
The week before his performance, he called the box office to see how it was selling.
Nothing. Not a single ticket.
And he was furious. He was under the impression that we would do all of his promotional work for him. (Never mind that he was renting our cheapest black-box space for a single performance--and at the sliding-scale "community and independent arts" rate, at that.) But never mind: he'll rise above our obvious incompetence and arrange for posters himself. Huff huff goodbye huff.
So he shows up for his 7:00 performance at 6:30 and hands his stage manager a stack of posters, instructing her to put them up around the city, then has a hissy fit when she explains that that's neither her job, nor is this the time. But we get over it, he gets changed, and walks into the house to begin.
There are five people in attendance:
- His boyfriend. (Comp.)
- His neighbours.
- His sister and her date. (One comp, one paid.)
But he performs anyway.
I'll withhold commentary on the quality of the performance, but here's the important thing.
They all left at intermission.
Every single one.
Awwwwwwwwwwwkward.
