Cheese & Carrots
When I was seventeen, I decided that I needed to work somewhere ‘non-theatrical.’ Perhaps this was my halfhearted attempt at having that oft-referred-to backup plan in case my career in theatre took a nosedive, or perhaps I just wanted to see things in broad daylight, instead of 02 Amber. Whatever the reason, I marched myself to the nearest mall and thirty minutes later found work as a makeup artist at a struggling portrait studio.
Okay, okay. I realize that a makeup artist at a photography chain is still not completely normal, but it was the closest my teenage self could get to a ‘real job’ while keeping some means of what I thought was creative expression. It was early March and my first assignment was to pick up our Easter Bunny from mall security. The studio was advertising Easter photos with a real bunny, but all animals entering the mall had to be check by security first. So I got my little employee ID badge and trotted off towards the customer service office, full of self-importance and anticipation over meeting the bunny.
The security guard didn’t even look up from his newspaper when I gave my prepared speech about who I was and what business I was attending to. He finished reading his article, drained his cup of coffee and then casually reached under his desk, withdrawing an empty carrier. “You’ll have to gimme a minute,” he said, hiking up his belt and waddling to the back door. “The rest of the gang is takin’ pitchers of yer rabbit out back.”
As I waited in the smoke-filled office, I thought it sweet, if not a waste of tax-payer dollars, that members of the local police squad were soft-hearted enough to want their photo with a cute little white Easter bunny. The guard soon returned and, with a sardonic smile, handed me the now-occupied carrier. “Hope you like him.”
The little bundle, who I had already named Mr. Cadbury, was barely visible through the holes in the carrier, but I knew that the two of us would become fast friends. I arrived back at the store, carrying my package with pride, beaming with the knowledge that I had completed my first task without mishap. I gathered the rest of the staff around me, faced the door of the carrier toward my eager audience and opened it. The crowd gasped in delight.
“Holy crap, he looks like Fidel Castro,” announced my boss.
He really did. Mr. Cadbury was a rich tan color – around the shade of coffee ice cream – with black, furry-caterpillar-style markings over each eye and under his little pink nose. The eyebrows gave him a scowling appearance, accented by the fact that his ears, also black, were maybe two inches shorter than they should have been. Throw in a cigar and a missile and I don’t think anyone could have seen the difference.
My boss assigned the other makeup artist to my first appointment and told me to get on the phones with the bunny-man and demand a more photogenic rabbit. Talking to seasonal animal pimps about a rabbit’s questionable facial hair was not exactly what I had in mind when I set out to get a normal job. Nevertheless, I attacked my task with vigor, merely to find out that Mr. Cadbury was the only bunny in the region who was willing to work for less than $400 a week during peak modeling season. It should have come as no surprise to hear that our little dictator got less work than his monochromatic friends. We were stuck with him.
The only people interested in having their photo taken with the hairy communist were the security guards. We had a difficult enough time convincing parents that the eyebrows and mustache could be removed in post-editing, but when word got around that Mr. Castro-bury couldn’t see a camera flash without urinating, it became nearly impossible to book Easter portraits. Nobody wants to be pissed on by a fascist rabbit.
Since we weren’t busy, I spent most of my hours there tending to Mr. Castrobury. I fed and watered him, took him for walks around the studio, made him practice his smile for the camera and cut up newspaper for his carrier – he seemed to prefer articles on foreign affairs, but it was hard to tell. Because taking care of a rabbit is about as time consuming as singing Little Bunny Foo Foo, I had plenty of time to get to know everyone else at the studio.
Our boss had three phone numbers, each with its specific use. One was to her mobile home where she lived with her husband and six children, another was her boyfriend’s apartment, and the third was her emergency cell phone that we were permitted to call only if her husband or boyfriend tried to contact her at work when she was absent. Once, I accidentally phoned her trailer and got her husband when I should have called her boyfriend. The next day, she docked my commission.
My co-workers were a SitCom writer’s dream. There was Sylve, the pregnant hair stylist who spent all day, every day, reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and drinking soy milk. I don’t think I ever saw her do one bit of work, or hear her say anything but “I can’t do that; I’m pregnant.” Then there was the gay man who had a sex change operation during my second week and changed his name from Harvey to Andrea. Andrea fell in love with her female nurse from the clinic, consequently becoming a lesbian and remaining homosexual. I have often wondered if that meant that Andrea’s girlfriend was straight or gay, although I guess it hardly matters.
Camille was my favorite. She was a stunningly beautiful black woman from Canada who was so afraid of other black people that she would hide behind the counter when they came into the studio. Her explanation was simple; she’d never met any black people in Canada. There was another 17-year-old who worked the part time shift opposite mine, but he was arrested for dealing drugs in the parking lot. To round out the cast, we had two photographers; one looked and sounded just like Joe Pesce, while the other one wore an eye patch and went by the name of ‘Moo.’ I never did figure out how he took such good pictures with just one eye.
Business was dreadfully slow. I applied makeup for maybe twenty people the entire month of March. After the drug arrest and an incident where Camille refused service to an African-American customer on the grounds that she looked ‘suspicious,’ I began spending most of my time in the front window with Mr. Castrobury, trying to distance myself from the rampant weirdness of the staff. One day I tried dressing him in a pair of black-rimmed glasses with the hopes that I could make him look like Groucho Marx, but it didn’t boost sales the way I thought it would.
The week after Easter, I overheard my boss telling the lesbian man that she would have to lay off at least one of her part-time employees because of low revenue. That same day, she gave me instructions to pack up Mr. Castrobury’s things and take him back to the security office, where he would be picked up by his owner-slash-agent. I took my time that day with cleaning his carrier, making sure he had interesting reading material for the trip home, filling his water bottle and feeding him lettuce leaves, treasuring our last moments together. I walked him down to the security office, and then walked right out the mall doors and across the street, without so much as a glance back.
Part of me felt a little tinge of regret, of sadness even. I had this overwhelming sense that I had failed at something so simple, that I was a quitter. Then I realized that if “normal” meant sitting around all day doing nothing but listening to my co-workers gossip and convincing customers that the Easter Bunny had nothing to do with foreign labor camps, then I had had my fill of it. I only worked there for six weeks, but it was one of the most valuable lessons of my life. Trust me; the real world is stranger than fiction.
January
Too many landmark events have already taken place in 2009 that I cannot possibly weave them all into one unified blog post. This will be one of those ‘current event’ entries, chronicling The Life of Me for my own posterity and for those few who are interested in the things that keep me busy. Please, make way for a very self-indulgent, rambling and disjointed list of My Year So Far.
The first significant event is that Circuit City announced their upcoming liquidation and closing of all stores. This news knocked us over for a few days, but I am proud to say that we are hopeful. I know that what is happening is God’s will, not mine, and that His is always better, even if it is more vague. Knowing this means that my anxiety now comes in small waves instead of crushing typhoons; which is a vast improvement. My husband is intelligent, capable, immediately likeable and extraordinarily hirable, so I have no doubt that he will find a job. While I suppose anything that pays the bills will be fine, I really want him to have a job that he loves and that brings him as much joy and pride as possible.
The good news is that, unlike so many others this quarter, we have been given advance warning and a severance package to cushion the blow. This surprise will hopefully lead us to something even better. Nonetheless, keep us in your prayers and let us know about any job opportunities that you hear of.
The next event is Christmas. Yes, in January. My parents’ favorite thing to do is to give extravagantly to those that they love, which always works out well for me. Watching them prepare for birthdays and anniversaries is really cute; every year they raise the bar a little higher. They seem to live for surprising each other.
For Christmas 2008, my mom bought premium tickets to a Cirque du Soleil performance in Atlanta, complete with hotel suites and a fabulous dinner at her favorite gourmet Mexican restaurant in Atlantic Station. Since we’re all big-time Cirque fans, we were excited just to see their new show, Kooza. As it turns out, they were Tapis Rouge tickets, which meant that we had access to a private tent where they served hors d’oeuvres, cocktails and champagne before the show and desserts (chocolate fondue, anyone?) at intermission. Tres chic.
The show was indescribably cool. From the trapeze to the contortion, the high wire to the juggling, the charivari to the Wheel of Death (everything sounds more menacing when you put ‘of death’ at the end of it), the entire performance was spectacular! I was completely blown away by the Unicycle Duo – a couple who did the most beautiful pas de deux I’ve ever seen while riding and balancing themselves on one unicycle – the aforementioned Wheel of Death that makes every part of my body tingle just wondering what it feels like to be on that thing, and of course all of the lighting, costumes, makeup, scenery, music and sound that makes Cirque so superior to…well…everyone else. I want to run away with the circus.
As if this experience could possibly be topped, the next night we were treated to an evening of entertainment that can only be titled ‘once-in-a-lifetime.’ To make a long story short, years upon years ago, the then-non-profit Savannah Theatre Company produced The Wiz, with my mom as Assistant Director. I was only eleven at the time, so I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but somewhere along the way our title character dropped out of the show, leaving us without a wizard. What I do remember precisely is the day that Darryl Jovan Williams auditioned to fill the role. He introduced himself very quietly, was instantly warm and kind with everyone and then knocked our socks off with his powerful, smooth tenor voice. Over the years, he would become a dear friend to my mom and dad and a mentor to me. He taught me where Middle C was on the piano and he explained to me how to tell when cows are in heat, both invaluable pieces of information when you’re doing live theatre in Georgia. Darryl and my parents shared many adventures together, each worthy of their own blog post.
Fast-forward about thirteen years into this movie and you’ll find my parents, Vann, Darryl and I having lunch in a little restaurant in downtown Atlanta just hours before his opening Jesus Christ Superstar the Gospel at the Alliance Theatre, with his name in the program as Musical Arranger, Choral Director and the leading role of Judas. This re-working of the 1970’s musical was sanctioned by the Really Useful Group with the blessing of Sirs Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber, thanks to the musical genius of Louis St. Louis and, of course, Darryl Jovan Williams. He invited us to attend the red carpet events prior to the show, the opening performance itself and a rockin’ after party where we got to rub elbows with the cast and crew.
It’s hard to express the emotions that I was feeling that night; awe and pride are among the top two. The show was…incandescent. The gospel arrangements added a whole new depth and flavor to the piece that the original now seems to be lacking. The performance made me smile with my whole self every time I saw or heard Darryl, but then it made me literally weep during JC’s (played sublimely by Darius de Haas) Gesthemane. I could go on and on about this performance and all of its amazing attributes; the lighting that enhanced every dramatic moment or the gospel choir that could wail so fiercely that your ears might believe they’ve died and gone to Ear Heaven or the subtle changes in plot and intention that they made to the script, but I would just be spoiling it for everyone that will get the chance to know and love this musical when it goes to West End and Broadway. Oh, and guess who got their picture taken with and kissed by Ben Vereen – the original Judas, among other things! – at the after party? Oh, yeah. That’s right. Me.
I think Darryl put it best when, after the performance, he said ‘I feel like we’ve come full circle.’ Darryl has been that wild card why-isn’t-he-famous-yet? member of my family for so long that seeing him there, that night, completely in charge and in his element, the proverbial man of the hour, seemed very poetic. I’m so proud of him and so excited for him. Everyone should be blessed to hear this man sing. If you haven’t, well, get yourself to Atlanta before the end of this month and prepare to be amazed. J
As I said, I could talk about this forever, but I would eventually run out of adjectives and you would be bored. And then I would never move on to writing about Bonnie and Brian’s wedding! It occurred to me as I was getting dressed for the ceremony that I’ve never been in a wedding other than my own and I all of a sudden became very nervous. What if I trip as I walk down the aisle? What if I have a sneezing attack during the ceremony? What if they make me do a toast? Fortunately, none of those things happened to me or anybody, and the entire weekend went off beautifully. Bonnie was truly beautiful and that’s all I can say about that without being superfluous. She worked so hard and so long planning this event of her dreams that it was really gratifying to see her enjoying herself in her imagination-turned-reality-winter-wonderland. I think everyone gets a little anxiety that real life can never really live up to your expectations, so it’s always a wonderful surprise when it really does. We wish many blessings and much bliss to the newly wedded couple.
Other notable events this January include having my car towed, learning Italian, realizing that I’m much closer to debt-free than I thought and reading a 365 Bible divided up for easy daily reading. So that’s my January…I told you it was busy. We shall return to your regularly scheduled blog programming next week. Thanks for sticking with me.
