Picky Picky

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.

Pet Peeve

Scripts change in TV. They change a lot.

The first draft distributed to department heads is usually just a rough guide. You know, so location managers can start scouting, construction crews can start building, casting directors can start casting.

That draft will be rewritten at least a half dozen times before filming begins. Sometimes these changes are as minor as a dialogue tweak, or as major as a completely new plot.

(Those kind of rewrites are the most fun to watch, as the producers scramble to find a story that works in the sets that they’ve built and the actors they’ve already got under contract.)

As you might imagine, this wastes a lot of paper. It would waste even more if we reprinted the entire script every time.

But we don’t. Instead, we “run pages:” copying only the pages that have changed. (Up to a certain point; if 49 pages of a 53 page script have changed, we print the whole thing.)

Each new draft (whether a full draft or merely revisions) gets copied onto a new color. Every show does it slightly differently, but a common pattern is white, blue, yellow, green, pink, then back around to 2nd white. Some shows use more colors, like salmon and goldenrod, if they know they rewrite a lot.

The purpose of these colors (besides identifying a particular draft), is so that everybody can see everyone else is, literally, on the same page. If your page is yellow, and eight people around you have pink pages, something’s wrong.

All of this exposition is just so I can engage in my favorite past time– complaining about actors.

See, when the crew get these colored pages, they just insert (or “collate”) them into their current script.

What many (many) actors do is call the office and ask, “Hey, uh, could I get a collated script?”

Or, they’ll get a PA or 2nd AD to call: “Hey, actor X needs a collated script.” I think they think it sounds more official or something.

You could say, “But TAPA, collating a script isn’t that hard! What are you complaining about?”

You’re right, it’s not hard. And that’s exactly my point.

Actors have few responsibilities. Memorize your lines. Show up on set. Don’t get arrested.

Collating a script is about the only physical activity an actor is required to do, especially on a talky show like the one I work on. Seriously, why can’t they do this for themselves?

Oh, yeah.

Time Lords

When you work in Hollywood, whether in features or TV, your time is not your own.

For starters, a normal day is twelve hours.  And that’s twelve hours of filming.  Several departments (production, make up, locations, transpo) have to come in before call or stay well after wrap.

So, half the day gone just working.  Don’t forget that, in Los Angeles, your commute is probably somewhere between thirty and ninety minutes, each way.  And trust me, no matter what anybody tells you, nothing is less than twenty minutes away.  I don’t care if they’re shooting in your living room, it’ll still take twenty minutes to get there.  It’s like a bizarre, cruel asymptote.

Now add in the morning basics.  You know, eating, showering, brushing your teeth.  (Don’t worry about applying make-up.  If you’re an actor, someone does it for you; if you’re not, nobody cares.)

At the end of the day, all you want to do is zone out in front of the TV, watching crappy reality shows that are putting your show out of business.

Forget about chores, like laundry and going to the bank.  That shit’s for the weekend.

I understand why producers want assistants.  It’s almost impossible to just live your life when you’re working on a show.  You do the work, your assistants take care of the chores, and everything else is just fun, fun, fun.

I get that.  But those of us who can’t afford assistants just have to suck it up and wait for hiatus or cancellation.

What I’m saying is, if you can’t find a way to enjoy yourself while you’re working, well…  You should find another job.

Reality, TV

I had a strange experience yesterday. I saw someone I know on TV.

Now, when you work in television, of course you see people you know, particularly if you watch the show you work on.  But this wasn’t a show I’ve ever worked for.

What was strange is that I knew this guy before I saw him on TV.

The general public knows actors through their characters, or their public persona. Once  you start a career in the business, your view of them will change when you meet them in person. They start to be a real human being.

But that’s not what happened yesterday. Yesterday, the process was reversed. I met this actor, then I saw him on our show, and finally, I watched him play a completely different character on a different show.

It was disconcerting. When you read the script, and see the lights and cameras and everything, the artifice is clear. But take that familiar face and put it in an unfamiliar setting, doing unfamiliar things, it’s like… seeing your teacher during summer vacation.

Still funnier than anything on the comics page today. I'm looking at you, Get Fuzzy.

Strange.

Fuck Jay Leno

’s show.

From what I’ve heard, he’s a nice guy.  Also, he supported the writers’ strike, and now the guild is screwing with him (which is totally unfair).  He may be the most middle-of-the-road comedian in history, but he’s still a lot funnier than most of the guys in the office who hate him.

Despite all that, fuck his show.

The LA Times has a story about the many, many people who want The Jay Leno Show to fail.  (Thanks to TV By the Numbers for the link.)

One particular quote caught my eye:

NBC executives dismiss the notion that Leno’s new gig is robbing the industry of jobs. “The Jay Leno Show” will have a staff of 22 writers who belong to the Writers Guild, which is far more than the typical drama, the network points out.

First of all, there’s a lot more at stake than writers’ jobs.  A normal scripted show employs 100 to 150 cast and crew members.  Even if this variety show has that large of a crew (unlikely), that still amounts to around 500 people out of work.

On top of that, even the writers are getting screwed.  Scripted shows have a staff of between five and ten writers.  At the low end of that estimate, three writers are still out of work.

I will concede NBC has a point with what they said next:

The show will produce 230 episodes a year, as opposed to 22 episodes for the average drama, which means the writers will be employed longer. And the show will be locally produced in Burbank, thus preventing the flight of jobs to Vancouver, Toronto or one of the other out-of-state locations where many scripted series are now shot.

That’s great, but they’ll be shooting on the NBC-Universal lot 90% of the time.  All of the location fees, catering costs, and other ancillary businesses that depend on crew shooting in Los Angeles get cut out.

But here’s the thing.  No matter how much the industry cries and screams and moans, The Jay Leno Show will be a success.  How do I know?

My mom.

Sure, you could analyze the tracking numbers, or discuss how much the show costs versus how good the ratings are, but I’ve come to realize that the most reliable bellweather of success is my mom.

If my mom has heard of something, be it a book or a movie or a TV show, that means it has so permeated the culture as to be inescapable by even a grey-haired, retired school teacher whose favorite band is and always will be The Beatles.

Furthermore, if my mom’s eight old biddy friends all discuss a particular show, and profess a desire to watch it (like my mom told me they did last night), then that show will be huge.

And we’re all going to be out of work.

Mistakes Will be Made

Yesterday, Shawn commented on a grammatical mistake I made (now corrected):

“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 mock others for similar mistakes; 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 Special Pleading. 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.

Holding Back

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.

When do you think it came out?

It’s Rather Easy Being Green, Actually

In recent months, there’s been much discussion of shows “going green.” Don’t believe a word of it.

I heard on some entertainment show or other that a particular show-that-shall-remain-nameless is reducing paper by giving all of the actors Kindles.

I happen to know a guy on said show. When I told him about the story, he laughed heartily and said, “Oh, God, no. That’s just a bald-faced lie.”

I thought I was saving the environment.

Which makes sense. Can you imagine giving an actor a (relatively) expensive piece of electronic equipment, even one with a single button? These people can’t make it from their trailer to the stage without getting lost. (For those of you not in the business, oh God, I wish I was kidding.)

From what I hear, all Fox shows got rid of plastic water bottles, which is probably more of a cost-saving measure disguised as concern for the environment. Instead, the crews are given reusable metal bottles.

But not the actors, of course; they’d lose the bottles.

On my show, the only noticeable changes are that all of the office lights now use those cute, twisty energy-saver bulbs, and they’ve installed motion sensors in the bathroom.

I’m more than a little embarrassed to note that, after delicious Mexican lunch from the catering truck, I was in the bathroom so long that the lights turned off. On the plus side, I have empirically proven that I can, indeed, find my asshole without the aid of a flashlight.

There’s Always Someone Below You

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.

- – -

In other news, JJ Abrams talked to io9 about my new favorite Star Trek character, Flarey.

Casting Called Out

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?