So, right now I’m working in a very small theatre. Like one-hundred-and-fifty seats, the stage is two feet high, and we have no microphones kind of small. It’s usually really great to work in such an intimate space, but every once in a while I want to scream and refuse to ever work on a small stage again. For example, I can tell you with absolute certainty that the actor standing two feet away from you can in fact hear you talking to your neighbor. Even if we’re in a blackout, the darkness does not block out noise. I can hear what you’re saying. And yes, I do know how much longer Act I is, and no, I am not going to answer you right now.
But the mother of all things that pisses Megan off while she’s on stage is when you put your shit on my stage. I don’t care if it’s a program, a tissue, or a cane. Don’t put your shit on my stage. Especially not a freakin’ cane! A cane! Right on the front of the stage.
What did he think? That we didn’t need that part of the stage? That his cane would be a nice addition to the set décor? WTF, sir? We are not your television. If we trip, we fall and get hurt.
And this, this is an eloquently simple demonstration of what is wrong with the human race.
It’s self absorption with a complete disregard for other humans. He didn’t consider that his cane might trip an actor, thereby causing us serious harm. He didn’t consider that it would be a distraction to the people around him who paid good money to see the show. He didn’t care about the cloud he was creating over the moods of the people who were forced to dance around the cane.
He didn’t care about anything other than not wanting to hold his own damn cane.
No thought of cause and effect. No concept of personal accountability. He wanted to put his cane there, and his terrible sense of self entitlement told him it was a great idea.
Luckily, one of the girls in the cast saw that the cane was giving me a nervous breakdown and making me lose all faith in the human race. So during a rousing patriotic number, she grabbed the cane, used it as a marching baton and passed it to the rude man, thereby clearing the damn stage for use by, I don’t know, the ACTORS!
I am grateful for everyone who buys a ticket to see live theatre. I am grateful that you are allowing me to do what I love for a living.
But please remember I am a human being, not a trained monkey, or you television set. Don’t make my job harder, and you’ll get a better show. ‘Cause trying not to die tripping over a cane becomes a little distracting during scene work.
Thank you for listening to my rant.
I love you all.