This Is What I Went To College For

Due to a few conversations I've had recently, I think that many people may be under the (false) impression that that backstage elements of a theatrical production are rehearsed to almost an exacting science. I wanted to take the time to correct that terrible misinformation here. As a general rule, we (theatrical technicians) don't really expend any more time or energy at our jobs than most people do, we just happen to be really good at what we do, which makes it easier to slack off, but still look like we're doing a good job. A perfect example: right now, as I'm writing this piece, I'm in the middle of running lights for a dress rehearsal of an opera. I'm listening to my stage manager over the headset in one ear, listening to Amos Lee on headphones in my other ear, and listening to the opera not at all.

When I'm running lights, I literally sit in a dark booth and push one button (GO) to make the lights change for three hours. That's it. Predictably, this is boring as fuck, so I generally use shows as my time to get some work done. They could make a Windows Mobile commercial about all the shit I do on my phone during a show; I have literally negotiated a contract with another theatre company via email while running a show for my current company. I check Facebook and Twitter, read the Times or the New Yorker, do the crossword; basically anything that a person with a normal job does in their cubicle when they're not supposed to, I do at the light board. Except here nobody cares.

Many people also think there is some sort of protocol for the communication that goes on during a show, which, to an extent is true. There are definitely things you can and cannot say on headset (“go” being a thing not to say, unless you are the stage manager calling a cue), certain times not to talk, and so forth. However, the further you get into the run of a show, the more comfortable everyone gets, and the more relaxed the headset etiquette gets. We have conversations, make plans for where to go drinking after the show, play games, take bets on who will be late to an entrance, &c. During today's matinee of Madama Butterfly, one of the ASMs (that's assistant stage manager, for you laymen) decided that the third act overture was a lot funner if you meowed along with the melody. Which she proceeded to do, as Puccini rolled in his grave. But it was a lot funnier, to her credit.

Basically, the upshot of all this is simply, the next time you go to a show, just be aware that it's being run by people who are screwing around at work just as much as you do. We're just better at it than you are.