"Stop me, Oh oh oh, stop me. Stop if you think that you heard this one before."
Well, too bad suckers! Most of you have heard my 'good' stories, but my good 'told in person' stories can't even touch my writing capabilities.
Whoa, I found an ego there for a minute. Awesome.
Some day I want to get around to writing down my experience over the last month about changing jobs and yada yada. People only sorta know my deal. But I don't feel like doing that today. Instead I have a St. Paul Chamber Orchestra memory that I need immortalized in word.
My previous job description itemized a list of essential qualifications. After the requirements of being just plain awesome, one bullet point reads:
- Ability to work in a high pressure environment.
That qualification voices warning that things will get a little (who am I kidding?) a lot stressful. The problem with that line item is that it decrees that you are willing to put yourself there, not that you can handle that stress well. Everyone survives the pressure cooker differently. But I fully believe that to successfully work among the stress, you've got to bring a side of humor or it will eat you alive.
Enter Doctor Evil.
The mad scientist from the Austin Powers movies with all his bald-headed, pinky-tasting, MiniMe-having, 'One Million Dollars' saying glory. Somehow this unlikely character found it's way into the backstage of SPCO. The life sized likeness usually lives in the vestibule between backstage and onstage. Giving surprising chuckles to all that enter.
Most days Dr. Evil is kept to welcoming duty. Some days ... life for this cardboard cutout is a lot more fun.
Over the last four years the orchestra stage manager and myself have turned to the Doctor when the emotional winding gets tight.
Dr. Evil has hung from the ceiling. Peeked out behind acoustic curtains. He's worn Halloween masks. And carried signs of info for the musicians. My favorite moments took advantage of our video feed. We have a camcorder in the Music Room so people throughout the office can keep track of rehearsals via TV monitors (this also gives them to ability to watch me dance as I mop the audience risers, oh yeah and me picking my butt when I think I'm alone).
Some days a staff member in Operations might hit the power button and be faced with 1/4 Dr. Evil's face and 3/4 world class musicianship. We became masters of the silver screen. Sometimes we would throw a little uplite on the life sized. Other times we would rig up a side-entry Dr. Evil head. The longitudinal float.
Holidazzle Dr. Evil broad casted all SPCO TVs. I mean all! For this one we made a point to turn on every existing TV within the building. That included our President's office, the large conference room and the very public ticketing lobby. Amusements free of charge to unsuspecting patrons. He was once again situated in front of the orchestra but this time lit in Christmas appropriate red.
Dr. Evil has been a four year long joke. One that we've gotten exceptionally good at. I've witnessed every reaction to his existence. The startle and the giggle from the high school kids our players coach to the walker-ridden patrons that need the backstage ramp to make it to their audience seats. I've seen the biggest, hardest stagehands scream like little girls when it surprises them in the dark. I have witnessed it being planted for jokes and then the planter forgets their own planting and ends up pranking the prankster.
So many laughs. I couldn't let that humor die with my departure.
Long live the legacy.
At the time of mocking this up on my last day (Thanks Aimee for your help with the 8am photoshoot!), I did not consider the association of making myself into Dr. Evil during my rapid departure. I've come to terms with that implication for the sake of humor.
Adios SPCO!
