The Subjugation Confrontation

 

“Looks like we have an Ass Magnet” I sighed to my 1997 Toyota ”Cecilia” as the brazen belligerent SUV driver behind me bullied his way up our tailpipe (as well as the ramps of the parking structure) in his hyper-caffeinated fury at 8:55am.

Despite the fact that Cecilia and I prefer to park on Level 3 (where she’s in the shade, yet has a clear and proper view of the Studio); despite the fact that we professionally arrived 35 minutes prior to the official call time, and despite the fact that the Ass Magnet was clearly running late to work, I allowed, nay, permitted myself to be forcibly coerced to the rooftop.  (Sometimes we all have to pick our battles -- who needs to instigate a fight with a fanatic LA driver fresh off the freeway who may or may not have a loaded Glock in the glovebox?)

In "hindsight-of-course", I could’ve simply pulled over and waved the Ass Magnet ahead of me up the structure; but as Cecilia has a bit of a passive/aggressive attitude (I can’t imagine where she gets that), she continued to motor along at her own safe and steady pace; a bird-like fluttering randomly emitting from her engine at every other turn.  (I’ve always suspected Cecilia secretly has a Facebook page, but now she’s on Twitter too?)

Nevertheless!

I couldn’t possibly complain.  The scenic panorama of Los Angeles after a bout of rain was positively stunning from the rooftop.  I still had oodles of time before I needed to appear on set, and with the angry Ass Magnet Escalade lurching diagonally across the delineated areas to haughtily take up TWO spaces (lest his pricey Cadillac door be accidentally dinged?), I lounged lovingly against Cecilia in a moment of quiet reflection.

 

(Please do enjoy the beauty of the city, the majesty of the mountains, the spectacular sky - and (what made me laugh the most) the careful choreography of every other car!) 

Unfortunately, occasionally, “quiet moments of reflection” with too much time on my hands seem to have the absolute reverse effect on me:  and before I could even begin to grasp the situation, I felt the nuzzling of hot breath on the back of my neck...

Yes friends, without so much as a side-mouthed “click-click” or a whistle, the Gate to my Stable of High Horses had apparently been flung wide open; and within mere seconds, my recurring stallion named “Righteous Indignation” had pawed at the ground, snorted in my ear and flung my rear end into his saddle for yet another one of our infamous pompous rides.

“OK, so maybe I’m not a bigwig in Hollywood like the GIANT DOUCHE BAG um, that is to say “possibly traffic-challenged” gentleman WHO WAS TOO STUPID TO LEAVE HIS HOUSE EARLY um, who may have been “potentially unaware of road conditions” (despite clearly sparing the time to stop at a Starbucks along the way, FFS), but at least I respect my job and embrace an excellent work ethic!” I shared with my mighty steed, attempting to emotionally rein him in before we clippity-clopped on stage.

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With a Guest Director who stemmed more from a technical background rather than what I would categorize as an “Actor’s Director”, I focused my performances during camera-blocking in accordance with what I assumed would essentially be a “master”, a “single” a “two-shot over” etc.  (Not rocket science.) 

And as approximately half of our sit-com would be filmed live, I’d also tuned into rehearsing which specific lines would be delivered in whatever direction for the Switcher, so she too had a fighting chance at presenting some semblance of our televised episode for the audience.

Lastly, with re-blocking notes for my specific Actor in only one single scene (I’m being redundant for a reason) on a Friday afternoon, I finagled my High Horse up the stairs into the house seating to quietly watch the rest of the rehearsals.

Unfortunately (again with too much time on my hands), I found myself once more trying to rein in the bridled derisive snorts and irreverent eye-rolling of Righteous Indignation...

Despite my fondness for our ‘Director du jour’ as a truly delightful human being, the overwhelming indecisiveness toward re-blocking many rewritten scenes was rapidly spinning into a thoroughly intolerable, disorganized chaotic disaster.  (Yes, again, I’m being redundant, but stay with me.)  

My fellow Stand-Ins were being bandied about from one scenario to another like rag dolls as they tried to keep track of notes for the Actors – a futile task to be sure – as during the tedious process of camera-blocking, the only certainties seemed to be the consistency of ambiguity! 

(Don’t EVEN get me started on our Camera Operators whirling around the proscenium like dervishes in a glassy-eyed trance trying to write and erase and rewrite their shots for the fifth or sixth time!)

And quite frankly, the longer I sat in my judgmental saddle, the sorer became my... um, ‘attitude!’

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Dismounting my mighty steed to reclaim my humility and eventually give notes to my Actor, I proceeded cautiously on set (as I am wont to do), crept silently towards my Actor (as is expected) and turning my script to the proper page for his entrance, I accidentally bumped into one of our Prop ladies.  “I already told him about carrying the coffee cup, but I also told him that you’d tell him the rest” she smiled as she scuttled away into the darkness.

And gently brushing my Actor’s arm to garner his attention as he giggled about something with a crew member whose back was turned to me, I reiterated the entrance with the cup, prior to continuing on with the rest of the onslaught of notes regarding his re-blocking in the scene.

Most unfortunately however, the “crew member” then turned around to face me.

“He knows about the stupid cup already!” the Star (slash) Co-Executive Producer of the show snidely smirked at me like I was a complete idiot.

>>><<<  (Author's note:  To Whomever is in charge of the Cosmic Clock in The Universe, well done for hitting the pause button as the following thoughts permeated my pea-brain within milliseconds of nanoseconds!)  >>><<<

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Now, was it the earlier recollection of the hefty weight of the Ass Magnet bearing down on my beloved (aging gracefully!) Cecilia like a bully in a kindergarten sandbox?

Were my inherent Capricorn idealistic desires of perfection insulted by the indecisiveness of a Director who would garner a massive salary despite a lack of proper preparation? 

Or was the next moment perhaps simply perpetuated by the imaginary nuzzle of High Horse hot breath on the nape of my neck?

Well, blame it on saddle sores if you like, but all I can tell you, kind readers, is at that precisely spectacular second in time, something within me sort of snapped...

“I understand that” I started to politely state to the Star (slash) Co-Executive Producer, “but I have a LITTLE bit more to explain to him”, I pinched my thumb and forefinger together purposefully.  “So, BACK OFF, B***” I postured defiantly; subsequently mortified at the horrible realization that I had just brazenly barked at my boss and called him solely by his last name.

“SCHOOLED!” my Actor belly-laughed while pointing to the Star (who skulked away quietly), as I believe my face turned 50 shades of red.

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“To make matters worse, I was explaining the logistics behind a desired “two-shot” to my Actor to appease our Guest Director, only to be mildly admonished by said Director for my lack of providing a proper “Actor’s Incentive” as to why he should feel “motivated” to accommodate the Cameras” I withered; completely blind-sided by the baffling 180 degree flip-flop from the Technical-to-Thespian Transformation.  “And at that point, all I could do was shake my head in confusion and yelp "I’m so outta here"” I whimpered to my friends.  

“You are my HERO!” one of my fellow Second Teamers cheered victoriously as I relayed the story whilst I simultaneously morphed into a primordial puddle of certainly soon-to-be-fired ooze.  “We all have a job to do, and you stood up for yourself!” she beamed proudly, a high-energy New Yorker transplant to LA who doesn’t take crap from anybody.

“You’re not going to be fired” another gentle friend chimed in on my behalf.  “Heck, the Star will probably even respect you more!” she laughed as she hugged me.

 

And while my co-workers greatly helped to ease my anxiety, it wasn’t until I enjoyed the opportunity to chat with my friend RJ (an actual HR “Axe Man” for a Fortune 500 Company), that I once again felt comfortable back in the saddle of my High Horse.

“I’ve been thrown under the freakin’ bus all week during Labor Negotiations” RJ sighed wearily.  “You absolutely HAVE to write about telling the boss to BACK OFF!” he rallied.  “I mean, yeah, yeah, yeah, you blog about ‘gratitude’ and ‘being humble’ and whatnot, but just this ONCE Pen, at the very least for ME, you have GOT to stand up for all of us who NEVER have the chance to do that!”

Granted, RJ made an excellent point...

“And by the way” he added, “when I retell this story – and you know I will! – I’m going to have you stomp off the stage into your personal trailer!” he laughed, clearly astride his own twin High Horse.

But dare I be so bold?  After all, who am I to un-pen the oft-sequestered stables of High Horses around the world?  I’m just a lowly peon who seemingly narrowly escaped being canned from a job that I love despite my inability to control absolutely unacceptable inappropriate behavior!

Quite frankly, as much as I wanted to stand-in and stand-up for the voiceless of the working masses, this post could never possibly come to fruition and be published without a larger sign of approval from The Universe... 

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“I need a script!” my Actor dashed about frenziedly, as I mutely sat obediently by the door for his entrance and innocuously handed him my clearly marked pages for the scene and his designated dialogue.

“Pthew” the Star (slash) Co-Executive Producer spat his gum into a trash can inches away from me as he too prepared to make his way on set; eying me momentarily as I cocked my head discerningly and politely averted my eyes (as I am generally programmed to do).  “Oh.  Gee.  Sorry about that, Pen” our Star actually winced apologetically.

“No worries” I smiled perfunctorily.

(Yep, SCHOOLED!)

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As my fellow Stand-Ins predicted, not only was I NOT fired, but as our Star apparently now seems particularly even more comfortable working with me, I was invited yet again to do a wee bit of Background work (UGH!) as his ‘personal Make-Up Artist’ at the top of one pre-recorded scene. 

And with the Wardrobe Dept. asking only that I be dressed entirely in “fabulous black garments with a splash of color for a neck scarf” (I brought many choices – they selected purple), I stood patiently on my spot prior to filming.

“You’re gonna be the Make-Up person, Penny?” our Star queried as he leaned against a prop set desk.  “Good!” he smiled, jutting out his chin like a contented kitty-cat as the cameras rolled tape whilst I delicately daubed his neck with invisible powder.

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Retiring my High Horse back to the barn for a proper feedbag of oats, I continued to be torn regarding this post.

Again, could I really dare to publish such a sordid tale of standing up for myself?

>>><<< 

As to the ongoing flutter of Cecilia’s impossible Twitter account, I bent over and clutched my knees anxiously as the people at my local Jiffy Lube flushed my trusty Toyota’s engine, purged her power steering fluids, replaced her air filter, changed her oil and cleaned out the extraneous gunk from her Fuel System.  (Sometimes we ALL need to get rid of our internal gunk!)

And popping open Cecilia’s trunk to deposit a twelve-pack of diet Seven-Up down the road, I think The Universe did thereby officially approve this post with a small Cosmic chuckle, and (dare I say it?) a SIGN...

Frankly, I’d completely forgotten about the stack of paperwork given to us (maybe ten years ago?) which I’d never deign to use. (With my luck, I'd tag the only high profile vehicle in LA whose owner happens to have his own in-home DNA crime lab.) 

But you have to love Cecilia for reminding me to stand up for her too!

Gently wishing you the courage you already possess in your lion's heart; the heart to remember to be kind to others, and the brains to actually think things through before you accidentally tell your boss to "BACK OFF!",
  
~The (Generally) Cowardly Passive P