If you are thinking about embarking on a career as a crew member for the Circus of the Sun, let me tell you about my experience, and you can see if you still feel the sunshine.
I lived in Las Vegas for seven years before I felt the need to get off the traveling circuit. I had met my soon-to-be wife, and spending six to seven months away was going to make it tough for us to progress our relationship. In my head, the only way to settle down and continue to work in entertainment was to work for the largest entertainment conglomerate in Vegas. I would be able to work five to six days a week and have a scheduled day off every week. I would still be a part of show business and maintain my home life. I would be able to have benefits and a free meal. I was happy to put on the golden handcuffs and serve my term. I lasted three years in the system, and when I got let out, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Working Days
My journey began just before I left for Shanghai, China to be a lighting tech for the 2007 Special Olympics. I applied online earlier that year to run a followspot for one of the resident shows. I received a phone call from HR approximately one week before I left for China for three months. I went in for the interview and told them up front that I was very interested in the position but I would be unavailable for the next three months. I would be appreciative if they held the position for me, but I would understand if I didn’t get this position. Of course, the followspot position was filled while I was away, but a moving light tech position opened up. This allowed me to work with my good friend Chris Kortum. Chris is a wonderful human being with similar interests. We both like fixing stuff in the most efficient manner possible. (Then drinking afterwards.) After three months in China, I thought that I was completely ready to hang up my suitcase and take a real job.
My first few days at the new gig involved lots of corporate meetings, trainings, orientations and blah. The type of mind-numbing mumbo jumbo that makes HR feel like they have justified their 40-hour workweek. As soon as I recovered from being oriented, I started to work. I was the sole moving light tech for a 150-bajillion-dollar lighting rig that had a total of 18 moving lights. I started my mornings at 7 a.m., went to lunch by noon and would be off by 4 p.m. It seemed like a good life. I had Sundays and Mondays off. My daily gig consisted of taking one light out of the rig using every safety measurement known to OSHA. I would put that moving light on a brand new rolling cart and wheel it up to the third floor moving light bench. Even if the lights weren’t broken or dirty, I would take them apart one at a time, clean them, re-lamp them and heave them back into place. There are 30 days in a cycle and only 18 moving lights to clean. That meant that I had to find 12 days worth of stuff to do in order to justify my 40 hours a week. Luckily, Chris Kortum was a master of busywork. He knew a week in advance of when a fluorescent light tube was going to burn out in the back bar hallway. We would often suit up in full rigging harnesses just to lean over a railing to change fluorescent light tubes in the practice room. We were always busy, and we had the repair request sheets to prove it. No matter how busy we were or weren’t, we had plenty of time to go to each department and see if they needed any help. If they didn’t, we went to lunch. I developed a pretty hefty addiction for soft-serve ice cream in the cafeteria.
The Night Shift
Maybe I’m just too much of an adventurer, but this lifestyle did not suit me. After three months of the same schedule day-in-and-day-out, I was miserable. My wife and I are more accustomed to going to bed at 5:30 am than we are to waking up that early. I started to find other places in the venue to work on moving lights so that I could listen to my music louder and tune out the humdrum of the monotony. I worked in the largest venue in town, but I didn’t feel like I worked a single show. I was the daytime moving light tech and there was no need to be a part of the show. I thought the problem was that I missed doing shows. When an opening came available to transfer to another show down the street, I applied for the Assistant Head of Lighting. Even though I had only worked at the company less than 90 days, I was granted an exception to move up and head to the new gig.
Again, this made perfect sense to me. I could be doing shows again and work during the night like I was meant to. Straight to corporatized orientation I went. After orientation, I started easing my way into the new role. I had taken over as an assistant to Sean Jensen.
Sean was born to be in the biz. He enjoyed doing lighting just as much as playing bass in front of the lights. We got along immediately. I consider him a good friend to this day. He let me know that I had an easy gig in the fact that the show had been running for 16 years in the same venue with mostly the same staff. That meant that I had very little to manage. All of the crew that had been there knew everything that could go wrong and already knew how to fix all of it. They did not need a younger kid coming in and telling them how to do anything. My job was to keep my nose clean and learn the show and run the show from every position. I had the same problem that everyone else had.
Running a show two times a day for five to six days a week makes your brain start to wander. Your body just goes through the same motions, but your brain takes you everywhere else. After a month, I could run the show with the console monitors turned off and checking my email. Almost. As my brain started to enjoy being online and playing solitaire more than I enjoyed running the show, I started to care less and less about the gig and more and more about doing something (anything) else. My lack of attention did not go unnoticed. After my third warning for being online during the show, I was let go.
Back to Touring
Parting ways with the mega-corp entertainment group was hard at first. Giving up the golden handcuffs was tough, because my wife and I were just married and starting to consider having children. The benefits package would have been nice. But it all came down to mental stability. As a touring guy, I was unable to put my brain into the Henry Ford assembly line mentality that was required to maintain a show of that integrity for so long. Make sure that you set your expectations accordingly when seeking the sunshine so that you aren’t disappointed to find a flat horizon.
