Whether you’re on set or in the office, lunch is always provided (unless you work on a cheap-ass reality show; then all bets are off).
Of course, if you’re somewhere else, as I am right now*, you might miss out on the food. If you’re lucky, someone will remember to set aside a plate for you. If you’re smart, you’ll ask them to do so before you leave.
The problem with this plan, besides the cold food, is that you don’t always know what will be served, particularly if you’re eating off the catering truck. Not a good situation for picky eaters.
I don’t want to be that guy with the bizarre dietary requirements, but there are some foods I just can’t stomach. Tomatoes, for instance. Cooked, raw, sauce, stew, doesn’t matter, it’s all gross. And tomatoes are in everything. ::Shudder::
So, instead of asking the other PA to make me a plate of dry pasta, with a liiiiiitle bit of cheese, extra olives, and four-fifths of a chicken breast, I just say, “Grab me a plate of whatever, but with no tomatoes. I’m allergic to tomatoes.”
The allergy thing is the most important point, if you’re picky. No one takes you seriously if you simply “don’t like” something. Who doesn’t like tomatoes? they think. I bet Anonymous will like marinara sauce if he just tries it.
You know what? I have tried it. I didn’t like it. Quite trying to be my mom.
But when someone hears “allergy,” they suddenly imagine you going into anaphylactic shock and collapsing at your desk, drowning in a plateful of spaghetti.
If you’re not a picky eater, congratulations! You’re not seven! But still, don’t forget to ask someone to set aside a plate. If you don’t, you’ll wind up eating a banana and some peanut butter cups for lunch.
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*That’s right, I’m blogging from my iPhone. All I need is an ironic 80’s cartoon t-shirt to complete the douche-bag trifecta. If you catch me driving a Prius, I herby grant you permission to punch me in the nuts.
“Kids my age so comfortable and lazy that we can’t even muster the energy to leave the house, much less protest.”
Or even do a simple grammar check.
It’s true, I made a mistake, and it’s true that I often mockothersforsimilarmistakes; but to misquote… well, someone, “Never attribute to [laziness] that which can adequately be explained by stupidity.”
In any job, you’re going to make mistakes, whether you’re a PA or a Producer or a blogger. Some or most of these will be unintentional, or even despite your best efforts. But the people affected by your mistakes won’t see it that way.
It’s called SpecialPleading. People excuse their own mistakes, but assume others are being malicious or lazy.
The first time my boss called me an idiot, it hurt my feelings. After a while, I came to recognize that he clearly didn’t understand how hard I was working. Further, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I knew I was doing a good job.
At least, that’s what I told myself as I cried in my pillow at night.
As a PA, you need to accept that no one will ever see things from your perceptive, unfair though it may be. Get used to saying, ”It won’t happen again.” And then move on.
Many people seem to be under the misapprehension that we in the office like to hold on to things. Several times a day, I get calls asking if a prelim callsheet has been published, or if a package has arrived, or if the latest draft of the script is out.
You know what? No. If your package arrived, we would have called you. Hell, we probably would’ve just brought it to you. We will distribute the call sheets as soon as we get them. That’s what we do. Hell, it’s practically all we do.
Yesterday, I handed a schedule to our costume supervisor, and she had the gall to ask, “When did this come out?”
Lady, I just put it in your hand. Just now. You remember that, right? I sure do.
I went on a run today, to pick up something for the Big Awesome Show I work for.
I went to the will-call window, and the guy’s eyes lit up. “You’re a PA on Big Awesome Show? How did you land that job?”
I couldn’t really say. It was just a combination of experience, networking, and luck, the same combination that led me to Big Dumb Gameshow and Shitty Scripted Show That Got Canceled After Five Episodes.
It’s sobering to realize that, despite being the low man on the totem pole, there’s someone who actually wants my job.
Guess which one's me.
On the other hand, I accidentally hung up on the Big Awesome Star of the Big Awesome Show, so there may be an opening sooner than expected.
I asked an AD to look over my resume, and make some suggestions. He pointed to two listings for “Casting PA,” both on game shows.
“Get rid of these”
“Why?”
“No one respects the casting department. They don’t do any work. It makes you look lazy.”
Wow.
The thing is, I knew he kinda had a point. I never got paid more for doing less than when I was a casting PA. Basically, I hung around with the contestants, and occasionally shuttled them to wherever they needed to go.
I worked on two different game shows, and in both cases, the casting associates regarded themselves as the cool kids. They didn’t know anybody outside their department, and they didn’t want to know anybody outside.
Another thing I noticed was, a lot of these folks were failed actors and actresses. I guess they spent so much time sitting across from casting directors that they thought, “Hell, I could do that.”
In my time as an office PA, I interacted with casting very little. Mostly, they just called when they needed something. They rarely came by to just hang out, like people from just about every other department. (Even camera!)
Needless to say, I have a pretty negative view of the casting department. But I also recognize that it’s a fairly limited one. Does anybody have any stories that might change my mind?
If a television production is nearly done shooting for the season, would this be considered a poor time to contact the production office to inquire about open positions for a production assistant?
If so, when is the appropriate time to contact a television production office?
Most shows are nearly done by now, if not done already. Now is just about the worst time, for a PA, to look for a TV job. You might get lucky and find a pilot, but in my experience, those coordinators and ADs hire from a pool of PAs they already know.
In the next few months, though, the networks will begin announcing pick ups and renewals, leading up to the release of the fall schedule. Pay attention to the trades, and you’ll see which pilots are going to series, and which series are coming back for a new season.
As soon as you see one such announcement, start making calls. If you know someone who worked on the show, great! Use that connection. If not, check out this old post about contacting production offices. (The comments section has some handy suggestions, as well.)
In the meanwhile, enjoy those unemployment checks!
Yesterday’s post produced some interesting comments. Capn Cookie said that, while Bale’s outburst was uncalled for, the DP was still kind of a dick. Which called to mind an incident that happened on set only a few weeks ago.
As you probably know, it’s standard procedure to turn your cell phone to vibrate when on stage. If you’re actually standing on the set, it’s a good idea to turn the ringer off altogether.
Needless to say, we were all surprised when a phone rang in the middle of a take. Everyone looked around, ready to glare accusingly at whoever was so careless.
Then the DP looked down at his own pocket, surprised. “Oh, it’s me! Sorry,” he said, turning off the phone. “Man, I’ve yelled at so many people for doing that.”
He chuckled and then went back to work.
I wonder if he will remember this little episode the next time someone’s phone goes off. I wonder why I doubt it.
I ran into someone I knew from another show. We hadn’t seen each other in a while, so we caught up on the usual “How ya doin? What’ve you been working on?” stuff.
Then she said an odd thing. She said she always remembered me as the guy who smiled a lot.
A little while ago, a very stern memo was sent around the office and set. (I use passive voice purposefully here; I didn’t pass out the memo, for once.) I don’t remember the exact wording, but basically it scolded people for bringing pets to work.
The showrunner’s assistant came in and asked if my boss had written the condescending memo. (The producers frequently bring their dogs.) Since I hadn’t distroed it, I was pretty sure she hadn’t.
When my boss heard the showrunner merely suspected she’d written this rude memo (not an unreasonable assumption, since who else writes stupid memos?), she got really angry. She couldn’t believe he thought she would write something so mean. So, she immediately stormed out to tell the showrunner off.
I thought to myself, Did it ever occur to you that, if people have this opinion of you, maybe you’re not giving the impression you think you are?
Step Nine: The News
You might think that there is a fixed schedule, by which you can determine when your time on a show will be up. You would be wrong.
Even when you can see the ratings drop week by week, the producers put on a happy face. “They’re giving us time to find an audience” or “The network really does think Friday is a good night for us” or “I have pictures of the network president in compromising positions.”
Then, one day, the producers suddenly get all quiet. You ask one of the assistants what’s going on, and they finally tell you this is going to be the last episode.
And don’t think features are immune. I’ve been on a few indies that ran out of money before we finished. Which was usually for the best, in the broad scheme of things.
Step Ten: Finished, But Not Done
I hate wrap, because even though there’s no more filming, and it feels like you’re done, you still have work to do.
The amount of wrap varies from department to department, of course. It can take weeks for the electrics to bring down all their lamps. Set dec has to clear out all the furnishing before the grips can store the set walls (why this is the grips’ job, I don’t fully understand). And, of course, the actors have to sign their gigantic checks.
A studio executive agrees to yet another star's salary.
In the office, wrap consists mostly of filing lots and lots of paperwork. It’s about as exciting as it sounds.
Step Eleven: Say Goodbye
The end of shoot is like end of school– suddenly, inexplicably, you want that bitch who made fun of you in chemistry class to sign your yearbook. Everyone hugs, and talks about how much fun it was and how we should totally go out for drinks later.
And then you never see them again.
Step Twelve: Forgetting
After about a week or two on the dole, you think to yourself, That wasn’t so bad.
The other day, one of our actresses decided she really, really, really wanted a pizza.
Naturally, my boss sent me out to the nearest CPK to pick up some hideous Ninja Turtles-style concoction with goat cheese and spinach and who knows what else.
Driving back, my car smelling like a culinary nightmare, I wondered to myself, Now, if I were to get a hankering for a Philly Cheese steak next week, will this actress pick one up for me?
Keep in mind, this was late in the afternoon, maybe an hour or two before wrap. This girl had already eaten a free breakfast and a free lunch. Now, the production is buying her dinner, not to mention paying me five bucks for mileage.
