I wrote this over three years ago . . .
God, I live in terror of that question. I recently had to explain it to a bunch of of old friends I reconnected from high school via Facebook. They kept seeing postings about me being in rehearsal, me being in tech, me being tired. I wasn’t thrilled with my answer then, so I am trying to work on the all purpose answer that I can memorize and spit out during cocktail parties.
“So, what do you do?”, asked the other guest at the cocktail party.
And then, without sighing, or rolling my eyes, I will say, with a certain amount of pride, “I work in theater.”
The next sentence will most likely be, “Oh, you are an actor.” Don’t believe me, get dressed and go out to a cocktail party right now, and there can’t be theatre people there, have a drink or two, and wait for someone to come and ask what you do, now answer “I work in theater.” SEE! I told you. (I am not sure if this works in opera and dance. Do they ask if you are a singer? a dancer? I don’t think anyone would ever mistake me for a dancer.)
Okay, so, my real answer should be, “I am a stage manager for theatre”; yes, I have done opera, dance, a lot of events, but most of my time is staging managing theatre. I really like theatre.
Now, 80% of the time, the person you are talking with will have no idea what you a “stage manager does.”
But here are my favorite answers, if they know what stage managers do:
“Oh, I staged managed once in college” – I often want to bring up things I did in college I don’t do now, but in reality, I think it’s best just to answer “Oh, so you get what I do.” Most of the time they don’t, because stage managing in college is so drastically different then the world of professional stage manager – but that’s a different entry.
“Can you get me tickets?” – this is the one like where someone introduced themselves as a doctor, and they start listing off symptoms. Yes, I could probably get you tickets, if I knew you – but since we just met at the cocktail party, I am not about to hand over $150 – $200 worth of tickets to you. I had a cab driver once, after asking what I did, ask for comps. I asked if we could comp my ride. He laughed and he dropped the subject.
“What’s your real job?” – as if the 80 hours a week I do at stage management isn’t “real” enough. I am very lucky in that I have been able to support myself, and support myself well staging managing for the past 15-plus years. I took some time off when I thought I was going to give up theatre, but theatre is a harsh mistress, and yanked me back in. This is my real job.
Okay, so, let’s say people don’t have any idea of what my job is, and that line at the bar is way too long for me to duck out and get another drink, and there is really no one else to talk to, that’s the answer I want to be able to give. So, a deep breath . . .
“I work for a producer, along side the director – from before a show starts rehearsal, through the rehearsal process, and then tech, previews, opening, understudy rehearsal . . . wait, wait, wait . . . I am getting ahead of myself. My job is to help realize the director’s and designers’ vision, making sure that the rehearsal process is within the confides of the production process (budget, union regulations), communicate with those who are not in the rehearsal hall (but are working on the production), keep the working atmosphere light, focus and safe (both physically and psychologically) . . . (Another deep breath, and a sip of my drink) . . . always keeping an eye on how to bring alive the vision in a safe, sane, and repeatable way during the run and how to tech the vision within the limitations given. I had some supervision responsibilities with the cast and crew, although I am (usually) not given the power to hire or fire. I have one leg firmly in the technical side of things, and another leg in the artistic side of things – as one of my responsibilities is to maintain the shows artistic intentions. After weeks of rehearsal in the hall, my job kicks it up a notch, and I am given the responsibilities of integrating all the technical elements into the show that we rehearsed in the rehearsal hall . . . spending hours on moments, transitions, and effects (This is where I can mention I once spent 14 hours teching the first four minutes of a show). My job is to push tech forward, noting where cues happen by marking them in my “calling script” (so I can repeat it every performance), and always trying to anticipate and solve issues as they arise, or hopefully, before they arise. Then, we start to preview . . . which means we continue to rehearse and tech, but perform in the evening, all leading to an opening night. At which point, the director and designers move on to the next show, and I then I spend the rest of the run “Calling the show” – which is the term used for me sitting in the booth, or backstage, calling the cues – telling everywhere where the light cues, sound cues, scene changes, etc – happen – while serving as a general supervisor and manager for the production.”
And by this point, I am pretty sure their eyes would be glazed over by now. And they would most likely excuse themselves to get another drink, or see someone else they wanted to talk to, or perhaps fake some sort of medical situation in which they would have to be rushed away.
At the end of the day, it’s really hard to say what I do for a living. I help make theatre. There are a lot of things I know I do . . . but a good stage manager rises above the list of things we do (Call a show, run rehearsal, create lists, tech a show) and becomes a vital part of the show. What I find magical about working in theatre, is that on those special shows, the ones you remember, it becomes oddly more then the sum of the parts. I believe a stage manager has a lot to do with that (of course, being a stage manager, I think pretty highly of my position.) Early in my career, I thought a good stage manager could add to a show, but a bad stage manager could be worked around. I took some time off stage managing, and I directed, and worked with some good stage managers and some bad stage managers. I can honestly say, a bad stage manager has a way of weighing down a production.
Although not technically part of my job, I firmly believe in creative the more positive atmosphere I can for work. I want people to come into work, I want them to give their best, and I want them to want to give 100% when the come in. You want to want an actor to stay with a show – especially when you sit down and figure out the cost or replacing an actor – both in money and the emotional toll on a cast.)
So, I don’t have an easy answer to what I do.
I could just say “I say ‘go’ for a living.”