Checking e-mails: a few days after another successful corporate awards show. Okay, maybe there were a few minor goofs, but I’ve always been taught to just forget about those and move on. Don’t worry about stuff you can’t do anything about, right?
Anyway, one of the corporate e-mails said: “Just a note to say thanks to all who participated in this event.”
Wow, what a heartfelt and personal show of appreciation! A note? How great is that? And it was sent to EVERYBODY too. Nice. Kind of like that plastic trophy my kid gets for losing most of his soccer games.
Yes. Thanks to all.
Uh huh. Does that include the loading dock guy who made us unload all our gear in the muddy parking lot? Because all the dock-high spaces had to be used for a big shipment of “much more essential” items?
After all, the 23rd Annual Pet Show and Magic Convention is a really big deal! Yep. All the gluten-free kitty litter and invisible magic cable boxes were unloaded at the covered dock-high spaces, while we unloaded with the stinky dumpsters in the rainy parking lot.
Even with his super bad attitude, the dock guy still called everybody “pal.” Sheesh. And if that wasn’t annoying enough, he also spent way too much time talking about some kind of oozing thing on his foot.
A Few Minor Glitches
Yes. Thank you, loading dock guy, for participating in this event.
Uh huh. Does that include the sound guy who brought the mic up late, so the CEO on stage waved to the crowd and then stood there in total silence and just flapped his mouth? Yep, he’s the CEO of a giant pet supply company, and he’s on stage flailing his lips like a large dog trying to eat peanut butter. Eventually the sound guy quits playing Angry Birds and brings up the fader, just in time to hear the CEO say: “…and the really heart warming part of this story is that daycare center rabbit lived a completely normal life! Even with his cute little bunny nose completely obstructed by a toy fire truck and a broken #2 pencil.”
Yes. Thanks for your participation too, sound guy.
Hey, does that include me, who couldn’t get the house lights off? Yikes. No matter how well I aimed, I couldn’t hit that silly 1.5-inch infrared, high-tech, sensor dot, house light fader button thing! I mean it was only 45 feet away in the ceiling, right? And the infrared remote only had one button, about the size of a piece of eye lint. Anybody could press that and hit that sensor, right?
But, no matter how many times I pointed and pressed that tiny button, the house lights would not go out. You heard me. I was the lighting guy and I couldn’t even make the house lights go out!
It was very…uh… noticeable…when the special guest, a very famous magician, performed. All house lights up full.
Do modern hotel architects even know what a light cue is? Have they ever designed ANYTHING that doesn’t have some kind of mysterious time delay? Let’s face it: Most hotel and convention center house lights work about as well as first generation HOG 3’s …or a bunch of rotary household Home Depot dimmers, 600W max, hot glued to a scrap piece of plywood.
Hey, besides, there was a lady with one of those giant foam, cowboy hats standing in front of the control deck. The hat had a bunch of writing on it that said: “Whenever I wear this gigantic hat, nobody notices how much my arms jiggle when I hoot and holler at all the wonderful stage activity!”
Well, it, and her floppy arms, were definitely big enough to block my stupid, high-tech, state of the art, infrared signal.
The venue house light guy told me: “Nothing to it. All you have to do is aim at that vague, smudgy dot in the ceiling and hold your breath so you don’t move more than 1/32 inch when you press the button.”
Sounds easy, right? So, this famous magician guy, whose initials are D.A.V.I.D., and I’m supposed to keep that a secret, was standing on stage saying: “Sorry about that, folks. You weren’t supposed to see those invisible cables or that 18’ mirror mounted to the ceiling. Yes, I’m afraid the lighting guy totally destroyed the beauty and pure artistry of that trick, but, don’t worry, we have plenty more!! Magic is all around us! Just watch me make this box full of zebras disappear!! Now, if we could just PLEASE get the house lights off!!
HEY, LIGHTING GUY? ARE YOU EVEN THERE?!!
Yeah, yeah. I’m over here! Behind the giant cowboy hat with the jiggly arms!
GREAT! TURN OFF THE FREAKIN’ HOUSE LIGHTS THEN!
Okay. Fine. So, immediately I think that all hotel architecture schools need to offer a few blow-off tech theater classes. Kind of like gym class used to be, back when giving that nerdy kid a wedgie meant you had good upper arm strength.
Anyway, after aiming very carefully and holding my breath like I was in a Clint Eastwood movie, I finally hit the piece of crap sensor! Hooray! The house lights finally went out…and the audience never saw the special zebra trap door turntable that was hidden under the stage.
Oops! Sorry Dave, or whoever you are, good thing I never signed that “non-disclosure” thing, eh? Guess you’ll have to come up with some new tricks. Just like the rest of us.
Yeah. That ‘Thank You’ note should’ve said: “Thanks a lot to all of you imperfect human beings who make us look and sound so good most of the time. So what if you tanked a few cues, no big deal. After all, it’s not like we’re doing anything important with this crap anyway. When’s the last time your fantastic lighting or sound gave a starving kid a hamburger, huh?
228 out of 229: Nailed ‘Em
Yes, he’s right! So what if we saw a bunch of plywood zebras being dropped into a magical stage hole? It was just one little mistake, right? At least give the underpaid lighting guy some credit for the 228 other cues he got right.
Yeah. “Thanks to all” just doesn’t do it for me. Say my name at least. And if I do really screw up because of the ridiculous house lights, just don’t say anything at all, okay?
And, please just leave me off the mass e-mail that gets sent to everybody in North America and the really good parts of Europe, at least the parts that still like us, sort of.
The executive’s sincere note should go on to say: “Yes, and, as an added note, I’d like to personally apologize to the lighting guy in lieu of proper pay:
… Lighting guy, please accept my humble apology for selecting a venue that has a crappy house light remote control! I think we can all agree that it needs to be smashed into tiny pieces and flushed down one of those jet action, high-tech hotel toilets…The scary ones that can suck the fuzz off a peach. Yeah! That’s what he should have said.
Then if he REALLY wanted to show his appreciation, he could start by sending me some cash.
Wayne is a freelance LD from Texas. You can read more of his blogs on ProLightingSpace at www.plsn.me/WayneLambertPLS.
