Tomorrow I'm gonna throw 15 months of service right out the window.

The BBQ Pit
1

In real life I’m a pansy. I’m a pussy. I don’t like confrontation. It’s not that I’m scared of it, I just don’t bother working myself up into a boil over things that, in retrospect, aren’t that big of a deal. I’m just not motivated enough to want something bad enough to fight for it. I suppose this allows others to walk all over me. Maybe I should be upset about that…but again, I don’t get upset at too many things.

Tomorrow, I’m going to get upset. Tomorrow, I shall be the mouse no more.

At the end of July, 1999, I walked into an improv place that I had grown up with. I wanted to get up on stage. I wanted to be a part of their troupe and entertain the crowds and make people laugh. My family had so much fun, through birthdays and bar and bat mitzvahs being entertained by them, I knew I had to be a part of it.

So I went to them. Linda came to the door when I rang the bell. I told her of my desire and asked if there were any openings. She looked at me with these eyes that seemed to look straight through me. It wasn’t until later I realized what that look meant. I think that right then and there she sized me up and determined to herself that I would never get up on stage. But she didn’t say that. Had she just done that, my unmotivated self would have just said “oh well, I tried” and went on my merry way.

Instead she said “We don’t have any openings right now. But we are looking for waitstaff to help out during shows on weekends and evenings.”
My first thought was “Waitstaff? What the hell? I don’t want to do that. I want to perform. But…this will let me see the show. I can get to know the performers. I can see things behind the show that no one else gets to see and learn.” Five seconds later, I had agreed to be a server.

I could bitch about the serving. I could bitch to Linda tomorrow about how I would often sign up for days and they would cancel me…sometimes AFTER I had gotten there. I could bitch about how I seemed to get stuck in bad sections or sometimes in the kitchen, or how duties kept getting more and more cumbersome but I wasn’t making any more money. But these things Linda couldn’t control and I’m not going to bitch to her about that.

Here’s what I will bitch about. I had to take workshops to get on stage. First beginner, then intermediate, then advanced. Beginner started in September, lasted one class, and then everyone but me dropped out. Why? I don’t know. But here I am needing to take workshops and it’s impossible for me to do! I’m stuck. I have to wait until another one forms.

So I do. It’s October of 1999 now. I take the classes. Twice you cancelled the class for the night. Did you bother calling me, Linda? I work there! You have my number! Damnit, it’s not like downtown is in the completely opposite direction from where I live after I get off work.
But I took that in stride.

Guess what else I took in stride? Intermediate workshops, supposedly starting in January, didn’t. Why? Not enough people. Well fuck! I want to be up on stage! How long do I have to wait? March…until the next batch of beginners come through. Fine, whatever.

Mid-February. I ask Linda how intermediates look to be shaping up. She says fine. She’ll call me when classes start again.

Mid March. Hey Linda. Hear anything about intermediate? “oops, did I forget to call you?” Yeah…I think you did. How many classes did I miss? One? Great. Thanks for telling me NOW. Turns out I missed two classes. Not only did she “forget” but she couldn’t even tell me the truth when I confronted her.

Sometime, I’m not sure exactly when, maybe around April, I found out that there were auditions that took place in the fall. FUCKING A?!? Auditions? You’ve got to be kidding me. Linda, you bitch, you knew this is what I wanted. How could you not have told me? How could anyone have not told me?

June, I go into the owner. I tell him that I want to get up on stage. First he’s heard of it. But he’s sure glad I brought it to his attention. He’ll talk to Linda and tell her that I stopped by. It’s a complicated mess, don’t ask. But Linda deals with people wanting to get in, not the owner.

Is this getting too long? Probably.

I just can’t convey enough how hard it is to want something this badly and get screwed at every opportunity. I’ve had to fend off questions from friends, family, and acquaintances for a year now. When are you getting up on stage? When can we see you? Are you performing yet? My response: no…not yet. It shouldn’t be more than another month or two. Another month or two. Another month or two…It’s been a freaking year already! My apprenticeship should be OVER!

October 5th. Auditions. I’ve made it through advanced workshops by now. Clancy, the owner, is there. So is Linda. They’re the judge, jury, and executioners for these auditions. But despite being nervous as hell, I think I’ve nailed it. I really think I did well. They’re supposed to call us if we’ve made it by Thursday.

Thursday comes. No phone call. Friday, no phone call. I go in to serve on Saturday and I talk to Clancy. What’s up? Did I make it? He says no decision has been made yet. Well, thanks. Just keep me in mind, ok?

Fast forward to tonight. I’m thinking back through all this shit that’s been going on for the past 15 months. How I haven’t gotten an ounce of consideration during this whole process. I’m thinking to myself “If they tell me that I didn’t get in, I’ll be pissed. It’s their business and their decision whom they’ll let perform. That I understand. But if I have to go in and ask them, if they couldn’t pay me the common courtesy of a simple fucking phone call, I am quitting right now. No two weeks notice. Right now.”

After the show tonight, I go in and talk to Clancy. I ask him if he knew any more about auditions. “Oh, didn’t Linda call you? You made it. We divided you up into two groups and you’re in Linda’s (I didn’t ask what these groups were). I’m sorry she didn’t call you.”

Yeah, I’m sorry too. Anyone wanna guess at how long these groups have been going on? My guess is two weeks. Linda, you bitch. You saw me tonight! You have my home number, you have my work number. Don’t tell me it slipped your mind. I am not going to give up these 15 months of my life just because you don’t like me.

I don’t know what you have against me, I don’t really care. You’re a bitch, Linda. A Ruthless, conniving, dog-with-a-two-by-four-rammed-up-its-anus-and-out-its-eyesockets bitch.

So help me god, if you tell me you “forgot” to call me when I go in tomorrow, the paramedics will have to be summoned.

I’m done ranting. I don’t feel any better.

2

She sounds like a real piece of work. Give her hell.

3

You will never , ever get a fair shake out of this woman. Please, for your own sake and sanity, find someplace else. I’m betting that you can perform in other places. If you have to hold her feet to the fire constantly, you’ll exhaust yourself, and you’ll be miserable.

Don’t let her control you. Get out.

4

My feelings too, Ogre. She will always pull this, always have the ready excuse of “Oh, I forgot”, EVERY TIME. If this woman was as forgetful with everyone as she has been with you, she’d be too forgetful to run a business, or anything. This is just her manipulative way to waste your time, take away 15 months of your life. Because she is too frickin’ gutless to actually TELL you anything, up front.

Screw her. Get out. RUN, don’t walk, outta there. It’s a big country, there have GOT to be other improv places out there. And look! You have all this training now! All has not been a waste.

5

Keep us posted, Ender.

BTW, yosemitebabe, those police logs are priceless!!

:slight_smile:

6

I’m going to take time out of my lunch hour to go see her this afternoon. I still don’t know what I’m going to say.

The thing is that I like troupe. I like the people. I just don’t like her. Nobody really does. I went out for beers with her once. She wondered aloud to one of other people with us “why doesn’t anyone like me?” It was all I could do to still my tongue. I don’t know what her history is. I don’t want to know. But I know she lumps 95% of the men she meets into two categories: men she hates and men she wants to sleep with before she hates them. It’s psychotic, I know.

We all just deal with it. I don’t want to anymore. She doesn’t run the troupe, Clancy does. She just controls the only means of getting in, which isn’t good. If I quit, she wins. At least if I quit on my own terms I’ll feel better…I hope.

7

Tell her exactly what you told us, dude. Run down every single fucking time she “forgot” to inform you of something which you had made clear was important to you. Every single time.

Then look her in the eyes and say, “If you are this forgetful in everything else in your life, you would have died from lack of oxygen long before we met because you forgot to fucking breathe. So it’s obvious that you have some problem with me. What the fuck is it?”

Make her squirm…

Yer pal,
Satan

*I HAVE BEEN SMOKE-FREE FOR:
Six months, three weeks, three days, 13 hours, 54 minutes and 58 seconds.
8303 cigarettes not smoked, saving $1,037.90.
Extra life with Drain Bead: 4 weeks, 19 hours, 55 minutes.

David B used me as a cite!*

8

The problem with real life is that it’s never quite like your imagination. Often times I’ll dream of going into a bar and having 4 large guys start picking on a woman just so I can come in with my bruce lee/ninja warrior/omnipotent being routine and look heroic in front of a bar full of strangers saying “who was that masked man?” I suppose it’s fortunate I’ve never had that happen. I’d probably get my ass kicked.

Tonight I dreamed of making a speech so powerful, so moving, that it drove Linda to tears as she viewed herself as the wretch she is. Clancy, so impressed with my dramatic ability, asked for me to go up on stage that very evening.

But words never come out like you want them to and people never react in the way you expect.

I asked Linda tonight if I can talk to her. She moans a bit and says “I’m kinda busy, but yeah, for a few minutes.” Oh goodie, squeezing time in for me. How very thoughtful of you.

I went up to her and started throwing down papers with numbers on them. One after the other and I told her “This is my home number. This is my fax number. This is my work number direct line. This is my general work number.” She’s kinda smiling at this, wondering what I’m up to. “This is my mother’s cell phone number, here’s my dad’s, here’s my brother’s.” Finally I threw down the last slip. “This one is 911. If you can’t reach me at any of those, call it, because I’m probably dead.”

She looked up at me and said “You know, this isn’t how most people start a civil conversation.”
I looked at her and told her I wasn’t really interested in a civil conversation. Suddenly the mood changed.

So I tell her what I said in my OP. Not as succinctly, not as elequently, and without a few of the cuss words. She tells me to follow her into Clancy’s office. From there I tell the story again. Again, it doesn’t come out quite the way I want it to and I stumble through parts of it. Maybe I should have rehearsed more. :slight_smile:

Long story, just somewhat long: Clancy appologized for the apparent neglect that I must feel has been happening. He mentioned a few times that it wasn’t their intent to do this and it wasn’t as if they were plotting in the back room figuring out how to screw me over next.

It wasn’t his place to apologize, though. It was Linda’s. I wasn’t claiming it was a conspiracy…just Linda. If he’s at fault for anything, it’s for running a company where the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing. But I’m not blaming him for screwing me over and it wasn’t his place to apologize for it. I probably should have told him this, but I didn’t. Again, things always work out better in your head than IRL.

There’s so much more I could have told him…or Linda. I could have said how I knew she had made an all but overt pass at one of the workshop students right in front of me. Basically, she said, as we were talking about roommates “Well, you know, if we were roommates you know we’d be having sex later tonight.” My jaw nearly dropped at that one. I mean, there’s no law against teachers and students, but still…
I could have said how person X came up and told me that Linda had asked her, “Why do you hang out with him? How can you stand him?” Refering to me. She told me because she doesn’t really like Linda all that much herself.

I could have said many things that I knew about Linda but they didn’t deal with the conversation at hand. But it’s the reason why, no matter what Linda says, I will never accept her apology. She can look me in the eyes and say “I’m sorry” and I’ll call her a liar. I should have when she did tonight. She calls it forgetful. I call her a bitch. Tomayto, tomahto.

All in all, not much got accomplished. Maybe I’m not that good of a performer. I couldn’t pull this act off. I did find out one thing though. Clancy feels I’m not yet ready to be up on stage. I can’t say I’m not upset about that, but I’m not going to rant about it. I understand. It’s a business decision. But I’m not going to sit by month after month and wait either. November will be my last month of serving there. I’m telling them that tomorrow. If Clancy was indeed serious when he said he didn’t want me to throw away 15 months of work, that they might have a place for me in the future, I’m more than willing. All he has to do is call.

He has my number.

9

With all due respect, and I mean absolutely no malice here, if you couldn’t nail a performance playing yourself, how good can you be playing fictitious characters invented by total strangers?

I’m not at all saying that Linda is cool. She’s not. She’s a leaky douchebag. But maybe you should at least take out of this something positive: That you need to get better before anyone - douchebag or not - will let you on stage.

Yer pal,
Satan

*TIME ELAPSED SINCE I QUIT SMOKING:
Six months, three weeks, three days, 23 hours, 30 minutes and 30 seconds.
8319 cigarettes not smoked, saving $1,039.90.
Extra time with Drain Bead: 4 weeks, 21 hours, 15 minutes.

David B used me as a cite!*

10

This thread reminds me of “The King of Comedy”. …

11

Satan,

That’s a very good point.

Sigh, now I have to hate you. :slight_smile:

Avumede: Never saw it. How so?

12

Actually, I think you should work this rant up into into a performance piece. (If you don’t, I will.) You got some great bits in there that most people can relate to… everybody’s known a Linda. Sublimating the frustration of life into art - it’s better than being a victim.

Dr. Pinky, writer
Grants, rants & limericks about girls from France

13

Enderw23,

I teach (which is a sort of performance) and have done commentaries on chess events, where you have to react to the chess moves in an informative and entertaining way. I can thus stand up in front of a crowd, but, like everyone else, I still get slightly nervous.
Based on my experience, I have to (gently) agree with Satan.

Of course, this is an excellent idea!

I think that making complaints at work is not the same as a performance. If you feel your boss is messing you about, then always start by explaining your problem politely. Remember you’re trying to achieve a date for your performance, not have a rant at Linda.
It appears that the first Linda knew about your (justified) irritation was when you gave her all your phone numbers. As she said, that’s no way to start a civil conversation. Linda sounds like a manipulative person. Imagine what she said to Clancy: ‘this guy can’t express himself properly, but he keeps badgering me’.
That’s not fair, but you admit that you didn’t say things to Clancy the way you want to. Perhaps you should give Linda a letter, explaining yourself clearly (copy to Clancy).
Alternatively, try another club, in particular to see how they behave. Maybe the improv world is full of ‘Lindas’…

Anyway, good luck and tell us how it works out.

14

This is a letter I composed which I will give to Clancy later tonight. I don’t think Linda deserves a letter.

If you’re still reading this rant, tell me what you think.

Clancy,
I want to thank you for the time you took last night to discuss an issue that was causing me unhappiness. I understand that you were ignorant of the situation at hand, and I don’t blame you for incidents of neglect which you were unaware of until that point.

Linda and I have our differences. These go past what I told you about last night. I didn’t mention them then because they go beyond the scope of Comedy City and deal directly with Linda’s attitudes and feelings towards me.

I tell you this now for a reason. While naturally I am disappointed with not being chosen as a potential performer, I truly hope that it for my abilities alone that I wasn’t picked and not any differences Linda and I have towards each other. The first thing I learned in advanced workshops was “First, The Show,” and I understand that this lesson goes beyond what we do up on stage.

It is my utmost desire to perform for Comedy City. I love what you do and I enjoy the company of the members of the troupe. Nevertheless, I don’t feel that I can wait around any longer while my fate is being determined. I hope you can understand this.

I will finish up my shifts during the month of November, and then I will end my work as a member of the waitstaff at Comedy City. If you are sincere in your desire to not throw away the talent and work of 15 months, then I look forward to hearing from you sometime in the future. If I don’t hear from you, then I wish you well with the business of Comedy City.

15

Enderw23,

I’m still here because you come across as a worthwhile person with an ambition! :slight_smile:

Remember what I said. You can try to get on the show, or have a go at Linda. These are pretty incompatible objectives, so decide what you want.

If you don’t send Linda a copy of your letter, then you’re conceding ground for a chance of a performance. She can say to Clancy ‘don’t let him on, he’s rude’. Remember that she probably ‘has her feet under the table’, which means that Clancy relies on her advice when deciding who gets a shot at the stage.

Your letter is polite and reasonable, but does not give much detail of your dispute. I would guess (remember I don’t know anyone concerned!) that Clancy will just move on and wish you goodbye. There’s no allegations for him to investigate, and not much reason to put you on as a performer. After all, you need passion to do improv!

Hope this helps.

16

But the original rant sounds like the base for a good stand up routine.

I’ve always wanted to do stand up. Someday, I will. And I’ll be good at it. The best stand up has 3 things in common:

  1. Based on real life and people
  2. Tragedy
  3. The comedian can make fun of his/her self

I say use this stuff as material! One day you may be on stage ranting to an audience about Linda and making people bust up!

17

Maybe I’m just too close to the problem. I just don’t get what’s so funny. Not that there’s anything wrong if you laughed. Hey, at least I can do it from time to time without even trying. But…well, what were the funny parts? Because I wasn’t laughing too much.

18

Enderw, I just stumbled across this. Ugh, I feel your pain - I was in an a cappella group in college where the people were so weird and competitive and manipulative, where I felt like I was never given the chance to express what I can do, that it made me want to give up singing all together. I auditioned for this one show for 4 years in a row, worked the door, worked backstage, and didn’t get in, and there was always some nebulous reason why and some way of manipulating me into giving more of my time for no reward. And it was my so-called friends doing the manipulating - it totally made me lose confidence in myself as a singer and performer.

Don’t let this bitch destroy your self-confidence - you’ve put in the work, you’ve put in the time, you deserve a shot in the group. Just a shot! One night, one performance!

Hey, move here to Chicago - there’s tons of Improv here, I’m sure you could find something that worked for you, and leave the personal baggage behind. Also, we should get SwimmingRiddles in here - she’s in an Improv troupe and could give you some good advice.

Ignore Satan - it’s not you, it’s her. Ability to handle confrontation with someone who has power over you and ability to perform on a stage with your peers are completely different skills. Repeat after me: it’s not you, it’s her, it’s not you, it’s her.

Also, a piece of advice based on my experience above:

People will believe in you only as much as you believe in yourself. I think this is doubly true for anything involving the performing arts. The more you behave as if you’ve * got a right * to be there. After 15 months of training and a lifetime of wanting it, you’ve got a right to try without begging anyone for anything.

I learned the hard way, and I still have to struggle to answer the question “Do you sing?” with a “yes” instead of a mumbled “not really.”

Good luck!

19

correction - should have said “the more that you behave as if you’ve got a right to be there, the more people will treat you as if you do.”

All the best.

20

Magdalene makes a good point.

It’s possible that you still need to polish your skills. Hell, most of us could use some “polishing”. But just because one place doesn’t think you’re ready, it doesn’t mean that all places will feel that way.

I am an artist. While I didn’t have to go through some of the torturous mind-games that you (and magdalene) have endured, I do know what it feels like to be talented, but just in the wrong place. It’s heartbreaking to keep on trying and trying and trying, and see other people get ahead, see your efforts ignored. It’s disheartening, to say the least. But it wasn’t ME. It never was. I was just in the wrong place - entered the wrong art shows, tried for the wrong “style”. When I found where I “belonged”, WOW! Things took off.

I’ll bet that’s how it is for you.