First Contact
I stroll into the lobby of the Nameless Theatre and look around. There’s a girl in the box office window. She’s on the phone as I approach, so I wait patiently. On the wall there are pictures of various shows: The Music Man, Carousel, A Chorus Line, West Side Story, and High School Musical. The pictures look pretty good. I’m hopeful.
I’m here to introduce myself to the theatre management and hopefully become involved in their productions. I plan to offer my services as a director and actor. Hopefully, they’re in need of help.
“Can I, like, help you?” The girl in the box office is looking at me. She’s chewing gum and twirling her hair. I wonder if she actually enjoys theatre or if this is just a minimum wage gig for her.
“Yes,” I answer. “I’m looking for the producer or person in charge of this place.”
“Oh,” exclaims the box office girl. “You, like, need Mrs. Jones!” I nod in agreement. This Mrs. Jones seems to be the person in charge.
“Where can I see her?”
“You can, like, go through those doors, and around the corner there’s this huge hallway, and there’s, like, six doors, and one of them - i think it’s the last one - is her office. I never go back there. She can be, like, scary sometimes, man.” I nod thoughtfully.
“Like, for sure.” There’s a reason I’ve never really surfed. “Hang ten, dudette.” I wave my hand with the surfer sign thing — whatever that’s called. The girl rolls her eyes and goes back to reading The Globe sleaze magazine. The cover reads “Oprah gives birth to alien child!”.
I snicker and exclaim, “Whoa! Oprah had an alien baby!” The girl looks up at me, all excited.
“Yeah! Isn’t that, like, totally awesome!?! Aliens!” Poor girl honestly believes this crap.
“….Yeah. I’m gonna go, like, find Mrs. Jones now.” I wave again and walk off.
Scary, eh? I’ve dealt with scary before. I can handle this.
I hope.
Tags: box office, first contact, oprah, theatre management