Touching Base

Reader Pamela writes:

I was working on an awards show recently, hired as a recipient andpresenter wrangler, within one day bumped up to assistant stage manager for the recipient and presenters stage within one day.

The executive producers and Stage manager praised me several times and said they would love to have me work for them again, The exec Prod also said she has some jobs lined up she thinks I would be good for, Ive worked a PA countless times which are outlined on my CV, which she has.

She told me to email her to touch base on the other projects, I was
curious what I should write, as I don’t want to sound like an ass
kisser, nor too friend basis, also she is from out of town and got
home Saturday, when would be appropriate to send her that email, as it is Monday?

I usually work out of a production house, these are visiting jobs for
me and I’m not sure on the email l etiquette for a Eexc Producers???

I’ve never worked on an awards show, but my understanding is that they’re fairly similar to the game shows and reality shows I’ve worked on.

The crew is usually smaller than on a scripted show or movie, and because of that, the divisions between the upper and lower ranks are less strict.  I’ve made friends with producers on reality shows, and have hardly interacted with their equivalents in the scripted world.

My point being, I wouldn’t treat an EP of an awards show much differently than any other potential employer.  Which is to say, I would suggest my standard 2-3 day waiting period.

In this particular case, though, I would not e-mail her today.  If she’s been out of town for any length of time, there will be a pile up of e-mails and voice messages for her to attend to this morning.  An e-mail from a production assistant asking for a job is likely to get lost in the shuffle, unless she happens to need a PA at the exact moment she sees your message.  Wait until at least Tuesday, and even then, Tuesday afternoon.

As for what you should write, keep it simple.

Hi, [her name here]!

How was your trip to Whereveristan?

While we were shooting the Razzies, you mentioned you have some projects coming up, and you’d need a few PAs.  I enjoyed working with you [and your team], and I’d love to do it again.  Please keep me in mind when your shows start up.

Best,

Pamela

One final note.  When deciding how to punctuate a sentence, consider the following:

This applies to question marks, as well.

Now, I realize I’m a pot calling you black.  I also realize that you’re not expecting me to hire you, so what does it matter if I find errors in your email?

But take a look at John August’s article, “Professional Writing and the Rise of the Amateur.”  A quick excerpt:

You don’t get to pick when you’re going to be professional, and when you’re going to be amateur…  People will always judge you.  You can’t control that. You can’t control what scale they’re going to judge you on, or which criteria are most important.

The only thing you can control is your work. And that’s why your work, all of your work, has to be professional.

Your e-mail isn’t your “work,” per se, but it is how you present yourself.  If I were thinking about hiring you, an e-mail riddled with run-on sentences, spelling mistakes, and gramatical errors would give me pause.  I hope your follow-up with the producer is more carefully composed.

Easy Day

The other day, I came into the office around eight in the morning, along with the rest of the office staff.  A scout was scheduled for that afternoon, at two.  The executive producer rolled in around, oh, two thirty.  The scout didn’t end up leaving until three.

At nine PM, my boss told us it was time to wrap it up.  As we walked past the EP’s office, he looked up at us and said, “Leaving already?  Short day for you guys.”

It was not sarcasm.

There’s a story about an studio-era director; I wanna say it was John Ford.  In any case, this director would ask when the first crew member was scheduled to arrive.

He would then show up a half hour early, so he could walk the set alone.  He could think through his day in peace, before the hustle and bustle of production took over, and he wouldn’t have time for contemplation or deliberation.

Our EP is not John Ford.

Thanks for Ruining my Day, JohnD

Last weekend, in response to my post regarding a story producer who asked me to do his job, reader JohnD said:

They have jobs because they are smart enough to go to the pool of assistants and solicit them for 50 ideas for free. They’ll stay a story producer.

And of course, assistants who just say, “I’m a production assistant and anyone asking me for anything outside of that I’m not going to help because it’s not my job” well… will probably stay a production assistant!

So, everyone gets to keep their job.

I read this comment on Monday, right before I was sent on a run.  The thought of remaining a production assistant depressed so, I nearly ran off the road.

I gave it a lot of thought, and I realized John does have a point.  If you do only what your job requires, and nothing more, you will probably remain in that job.

The thing is, doing extra only helps if you get credit for it.

The story producer in question would simply take my ideas and present them to the executive producer as his own.  In some cases, this might engender a certain amount of gratitude, even indebtedness, from the producer to me.  But in this case, he’s not that kind of guy.  “Thank you, Anonymous,” would literally be all the thanks I get.

If I was interested in moving up to being a story producer (which I’m not; I like my soul, thank you very much), I would take my shiningly brilliant ideas to the showrunner himself.  (This was a small show, with only three producers and a small office staff.)  I would get a little credit, and the EP might start thinking of me as an idea man.

Another problem, in this case, is that offering up ideas isn’t just helping the story producer out; it’s actually doing his job.

Take a real show, one with a script.  Suppose I’m friendly with one of the writers, and further suppose she’s having trouble with a story.  After she’s already gotten as much out of the writer’s room as she can, she might turn to me and ask, “What do you think of this script, Anonymous?”

I might say, “It’s good, but what if the villain got away at the end of the second act break?”  Then I’d be making friends, helping them out, bladdy bladdy blah.

If, on the other hand, she’d said, “Why don’t you rewrite this script from page one, and I’ll turn it in with my name on it?”  Then I’d have to say no.

And that’s basically what the story producer wanted from me.

JohnD made another comment, a few minutes later:

Sorry to be snarky :) But someone not doing their job and asking to be bailed out. Sounds like a good thing.

The only difference is that I think in most industries you stay around long enough for folks to notice you are doing the work and for the person not doing the work to lose their job.

Maybe the entertainment industry is so transient that doesn’t happen.

Don’t worry, I shan’t be throwing rocks when I live in my own snarky glass house.

The transience is a good point I hadn’t thought of.  The show only lasted a couple months, and just about any amount of incompetence is tolerable over that short a time frame.  Maybe that’s what makes the “failing up” Final Girl referred to possible.

Missed Opportunities

When you work on a studio lot, you see people you may not see elsewhere.  When they were shooting Rush Hour 3, I saw Jackie Chan rolling around on a segway all the time.  (Of course, I wasn’t allowed to rollerblade on the lot, because it was too dangerous.)

The other day, I passed Larry Miller in the hall.  I didn’t recognize him, but I could tell by his expression that I had that “I recognize this dude but I don’t have any idea why” face.  If he had said something (like, “We’re driving to Florida!” maybe), I totally would have recognized his voice from the Adam Carolla Show.  Later on, I was kicking myself, ’cause he’s really funny and I would’ve said so.

Today was worse.  I passed the show runner of a successful show that I greatly admire.  He had a big smile on his face, and he said, “Hi, how are you?”

All I said was, “Good,” and went on my way.  Man!

I even had something to talk to the guy about.  He spoke at my alma mater on Monday, and I had intended to go, but I was held up at work.  That right there is something I can build some small talk out of, which would then be a basis to chat this guy up in the future.  But, like a dumbass, I thought bringing a banana to the AD on set was more important.

ARGH.

The Highest Up

Today, I was on location, to get stuff signed by the UPM.

While I was standing around, a set PA asked if I could go grab the executive producer (who was in a coffee shop down the street that had free wifi), and bring him to set. I wasn’t doing anything, so I said sure.

On my way down, I realized, The executive producer has no idea who I am.

Remember the writer who didn’t realize we worked on the same show? That jerk just writes and plays ping pong all day. Now imagine a guy who has to run an entire television show. He doesn’t have the first fucking clue who I am.

I’m coming from the office, so I don’t even have a walkie on my belt to associate myself with the production. I just look like a dude who wants some coffee. How’s the EP gonna react when some stranger comes up and is all, “Hey, go to the set, asshole.”

So, meek as can be, I walk up to him and say, “They need you on set.”

“Okay,” he says, and continues typing. He doesn’t even look up.

My job done, I leave and realize, He still doesn’t know who I am.

Now, I’m going to play a little game. I’m going to see if I can avoid officially meeting him for the rest of the season. Wouldn’t that be great? I’ll introduce myself at the wrap party, and he’ll be like, “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the office PA who sat down the hall from you for six months. Don’t you feel guilty now?“

I’m petty, I know.