Cornered at a most inopportune moment during rehearsal by the AFTRA rep who desperately wanted to bend my ear over up-coming negotiations, I politely hushed her to be quiet while the Director was giving notes to my Actress. And walking to the other side of the set to get better ears on the nuances of what the Director was looking for – and ultimately what I would need to recreate on camera – I tried to listen intently, only to be tailed by the rep insistent on pleading her case and stuffing a brochure in my hands titled “Background Actor Guide to the AFTRA Television Contract”.
“I don’t work as Background” I whispered, pushing the papers back in her hand, still trying to listen closely to the Director.
“But this affects Stand-ins too!” she hyped, shoving the pamphlet at me as I attempted to continue to take notes in my script. “Why don’t you give me your email address and I’ll send you notifications when the meetings are coming up!” she continued, a four-foot pit bull refusing to let go of my jugular vein.
“Look lady” I whispered hostilely, “I’m trying to do my job here, and AFTRA hasn’t done crap for Stand-ins in twenty years. You clearly lump us all together with Background Actors” I pointed perfunctorily at her brochure; “yet you expect us to do EVERYTHING our actors do on stage for a PITTANCE and nobody has the BALLS to stand up and fight for how much is demanded of us by so many different departments that don’t look at us like YOU do; like we’re replaceable, expendable and interchangeable” I huffed angrily. “The crew actually appreciates us” I stomped my sneaker with appropriately unheard exasperation.
Frankly I don’t remember whistling to the stable or even saddling the stark-white stallion, but sure enough, there I sat on one of my High Horses aptly named “Propaganda”. (Haven’t ridden in awhile, but the reins felt good in my hands!)
“See, that’s just the kind of fire we’re looking for!” the rep beamed voraciously. “We’re trying to negotiate higher-paying contracts for three-hour a day Stand-ins who do award shows, game shows and the like.”
Whilst I can’t be entirely certain, my pea-brain has some vague recollection of utilizing one or more eyebrows in my repertoire to dramatically replicate to the best of my abilities, a silent scorned look meant to be interpreted by the dimmest of human beings as “Are you f***ing kidding me?”
“Just to be clear, you’re fighting for the people (bless their hearts) that walk to a spot on stage and just stand there?” I asked in utter confusion as to the apples and oranges she was suggesting I weigh and agree should get more money. “That’s NOTHING compared to what’s expected of us on a multi-camera sit-com!” I whisper-erupted, Propaganda snorting furiously and pawing at the floor with his hooves impetuously.
“But if we get this agreement in the contract, it might eventually affect your category as well in a couple of years” she cheered on her cause.
“So you’ll fight for us to get more pay?” I asked warily, temporarily sliding off my High Horse’s sturdy and defiant spine.
“We’re hoping to be able to change the multi-camera “Stand-in” title to “REHEARSAL ACTOR” she whisper-shrieked nearly breaking her arm as she metaphorically patted herself on the back.
“Wow” I uttered softly, nuzzling Propaganda who seemed to be standing a few feet taller (if that’s possible). “That’s just…” I sighed as words escaped me. “That’s just…” I stammered, grabbing the saddle horn and hoisting myself back atop my trusty steed. “That’s just the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
And clomping away I caught the equally annoyed eye roll of a fellow Second Team veteran pitching the same business card and pamphlet indiscriminately into the trash.
>>><<<
Frankly I found the entire conversation insulting. And taking a well-deserved “five”, Propaganda and I clip-clopped up and down the outdoor New York Street area existing behind our stage for a bit of clear-headedness, fresh air (and of course a ciggy); when like a ghost from the past I could’ve sworn I saw my friend Sherry ride up on her equally High Horse, a gallant grey phantom named “I Told You So”.
“Keep in mind” she spoke sagely so many years ago: “AFTRA is SAG’s ugly sister at the hole-in-the-wall pub; she’s always there ‘til last call and eagerly willing to go home with whatever cheap date she can get.”
It was a poetic speech (albeit a rather creepy euphemism), but nonetheless painfully true. And resolving to be kinder (if only out of pity and a sense of human morality) to the rep next time around, I returned Propaganda to the stables and looked forward to (my previously blogged-about week) hiatus.
At the very least I could file for unemployment and take some small comfort knowing that with the four day rate I’m currently receiving at work, a frighteningly diminutively comparable check would arrive from the government just before the end of the month. And poodling off to the mailbox Saturday to confirm my zero income, I gasped to discover the horror within…
(No, no, no, not the rug; the envelope I dropped in utter mortification ON the rug!)
And therein laid yet another moral dilemma:
Sure on the one hand, I could leave it stranded there atop the happy dancing skeletons until Monday afternoon and not admit to actually receiving any earnings until after my week off -- the amount of the unseen check having potentially significant bearings on what I might be paid by the EDD…
But if I didn’t maintain my own integrity, what High Horse would I ever legitimately have the right to saddle up again?
Tearing open the residual check and filling in my earnings (or lack thereof) for the last seven days on the EDD Continued Claim Form, I grunted at Question 6:
“Did you work or earn any money, WHETHER YOU WERE PAID OR NOT?”
And with a heavy hand (but clear conscience!), I filled in the squares as to “yes” and how much.
I’d like to personally thank AFTRA for my hearty residual check dated the FOURTH of MAY; for precisely $10.50 ($6.47 after taxes) and its timely arrival. Your next drink is on me!
Riding off into the sunset on my High Horse,
~Cowboy Pardner P
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