The one sure thing about life is that it can turn on a dime. When the powers that be who control our Karmic path are feeling particularly feisty-- they can come up with some pretty interesting shit.
I was in the process of leaving my marriage, selling our house in Barrie Ontario and returning to Niagara to the comfort of family and familiarity. In preparation, I was travelling back and forth trying to set up a job. I scanned online job sites daily trying to find something I was remotely qualified for. Basically, I’m unemployable but for a small market in video production. Jobs in the Broadcast industry were not exactly abundant in the Region of Niagara. When I spotted a government sponsored job opportunity with a production company in St.Catharines, I felt the tides were turning in my direction.
I quickly responded to the listing and was given an interview set for the following week. I drove down to my parents place in Niagara the day before so I was sure to be rested and at the top of my game. I dressed professionally, checked my teeth in the rear view mirror to make sure there were no traces of spinach or lipstick and set off to my destination. I always try to give myself at least an extra half-hour of getting lost time and it rarely goes un-used. So here I was circling the block several times looking for the production office until I realized the production office was in a house in a suburban neighbourhood.
As I pulled into the driveway, I was greeted by a guy with a baseball cap sporting a spectacular mullet who told me to take a seat in the carport as Richard was still finishing up an interview with my competition.
He continued to wash out the beer fridge as he explained that he too was an employee through the government sponsored initiative. He then asked me a very strange question. Was there anything I would like to know about Richard before I go into the interview? Hmmm, yes I thought to myself, I’d like to know why his audio technician is cleaning out a beer fridge in the middle of a busy work week.
As I sat considering this, the side door opened and a young man in an ill- fitting suit exited the house, thanking Richard for his time as he scurried to his car. Richard came out to the driveway, a large imposing man resembling a grizzly bear, bearded, barefoot, wearing shorts and a dirty t-shirt. He introduced himself and asked me to follow him to the studio for the interview. As I followed him down a flight of stairs my eyes were having trouble adjusting to the increasing darkness. The studio was a rec-room with moldy smelling wall to wall carpeting, an arrangement of musical instruments and recording equipment. I was introduced to someone with a name similar to “Masher”, another government sponsored employee. Masher was thin with scraggly hair and an expression that gave absolutely nothing away. He nodded and took a seat directly behind me, just close enough to wrap a wire around my neck and strangle me if need be.
As my eyes adjusted to the lighting, I looked around the room filled with skulls and scary monster figures. We sat on an 80’s style couch with a coffee table covered in rolling papers, ashes and a large ashtray filled to the rim. Why I didn’t run for my life, I’ll never know.
Richard launched into a verbal press release of his many accomplishments. He was well connected with a local magnate who wanted to start a television station in Niagara. He had once written an application to a funding body that he claimed was so good that a representative from the funding body phoned him to tell him it was the best application he had ever seen in the history of applications. He didn’t however get the grant. He was an actor, producer, composer, singer, cameraman, editor and writer. A man who wore many hats.
His trump card was a horror flick he wrote, produced and acted in that was bought by Space Television for a measly sum to fill a 4-6am timeslot. He showed me a clip from the film - a scene where he played a drunken maintenance man who was savagely killed by a creature that emerged from a pond. It was hands down some of the best mugging I have witnessed- his character lurching and staggering in a drunken haze, culminating in one of the more dragged out death scenes in film history. I knew what the Space channel was up to. Having spent 15 years working for Chum Television, I was well versed in their sophisticated sense of humour. We were after all, the channel that played that annual holiday classic, “Corvette Summer” on Christmas Eve.
This little masterpiece would fit nicely for the demographic that was looking for something to watch in the wee hours after ingesting 10 or more joints. As he continued his list of triumphs, we were interrupted by the abrupt buzz of his intercom system. He excused himself and hit the button on the intercom saying, “Studio here.”
A shrill voice echoed through the system, “Is there anything to eat in this goddamn house or what??” “Amber, I’m in a meeting!!” he barked and signed off. Amber, I was told was his thirteen year old daughter.
He took a quick peruse of my resume and stated,” You’re way more experienced than anyone here so obviously you have the job” He assured me that I would be signing up for a monumental project that would change the way television was viewed and I would end up being adored by millions of fans by my mere connection to this epic series. This I imagined was justification for the shit government pay. What to do, what to do? Of course I took the job. It would gain entrance to the magnate that was starting a real station here, I justified as we went over the details of my new position.
I did have the good sense to realize my years of broadcast television experience should give me a little wiggle room in the negotiations and I used it to flat out refuse to report to work in his stinky basement. I would work from home and come in once a week to go over where we were at. He gave me a script of the masterpiece to look over before our next meeting as I would be a key co-producer, marketing guru and location scouter. As I climbed my way out of the bat cave, he stopped me with one final note. “We smoke a bit of dope here and I just want to make sure that isn’t going to be a problem for you.” Basically he needed to know I wasn’t going to call the cops on him. The basement reeked of stale dope so this was not really a shock to me but still a question I hadn’t come up against in previous job interviews.
I nodded at my new colleague in the driveway who was now washing Richard’s car. His title was technically, “Audio Technician” but so far I had only witnessed him doing basic household chores. Masher, I believe was a Production Co-ordinator. Not to worry, I thought. I’ll be safely tucked away in my house putting in time until something better comes along.
I spent the next few days familiarizing myself with the script. The gist of it was based on a fictional town in Niagara that was silly with UFO sightings. The twist being that once the town members were caught in the UFO web, they were left with inexplicable musical talents of epic proportions. It was filled with the standard characters -- the Mayor, his wife who was having an affair with the pool boy, the hooker with a heart of gold and the musical genius that had fallen on hard times and was trying to win his family back with a spectacular musical comeback. I think we all know who was set to play that part. Mystery, intrigue, paranormal activity and almighty jam sessions. This script had it all and it was pretty clear this show would never see the light of day.
Richard had asked me to write a series of cast bios and I waited for him to provide the necessary background so I could begin my first task. He had held an open casting call that had attracted a wide range of unprofessional local talent. Though the job held the promise of a fan base of millions, it didn’t pay a dime and was casted accordingly with what could have been a sequel to “Waiting for Guffman”
My bios were shaping up to look something like this:
Jennifer Thomson hails from Ridgeway. Her experience as a bartender at Marty McMoose has afforded her the opportunity to study the frailties of human nature on a personal level. She brings this experience to the role of Ginger, the hooker with a heart of gold.
Richard Blowhard was born and raised in Niagara. Richard is an Actor, Producer, Director of Photography, Editor, Composer, Musician, Singer and Writer. His exceptional talents are evident in his body of work. Richard’s credentials include one ridiculously over-acted and badly shot horror film that can be found airing on the Space Channel in the wee hours of the morning.
My work was cut out for me as the cast and crew changed daily. I had convinced Richard that it wasn’t necessary to list me in the credits and no bio was necessary. He accepted my humble gesture and we scheduled our next face to face meeting.
The second meeting went much as the first. Dave with audio specialist was busy taking notes for a grocery list including re-stocking the beer and wine fridge for the many high profile potential investors Richard would be entertaining in the studio. Masher sat silently in the corner, leaving briefly for a cigarette run. Richard took this opportunity to tell me that Masher had spent time as a soldier in the war and had never really mentally recovered. Though he was quiet, he was actually a ticking time bomb. In fact the week before in a flash of rage, he had punched a horse in the mouth. I made a mental note to always position myself in a seat where Masher was in full view.
Richard offered me a Mike’s Hard Lemonade as we settled in to discuss my opinion of his script. I considered lying but something stopped me from doing so and believe me, it wasn’t due to any moral superiority. I just couldn’t stand his misplaced narcissism for another second! I started gently by suggesting the scene with the scantily dressed French maid running through the forest seemed to come out of nowhere and didn’t relate to any aspect of the storyline. “It’s a recurring dream that the down on his luck musician has” he explained. “Yes, maybe so but it seems a bit misogynist to me” I volleyed back.
“I don’t know what that means” he answered. Clearly the French maid wasn’t going anywhere and frankly it wasn’t my job to fix this atrocious script. So I sat biting my lip as he waxed on about his talent for another hour. None of the material he was supposed to have ready for me was done so I had basically made the 3 hour trip for nothing. I passed Masher on the way out who may or may not have given me a nod and took stock of the situation. I had worked in television for close to 20 years, produced an award winning documentary, worked with a group of colleagues that helped me learn and grow as a professional and all that has led me to this dank, stinky place working for a man who won’ t even put on a pair of shoes for our meetings! This was not good but I was desperate to start my life over in my hometown. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.
Weeks passed with little to no accomplishments. On one of my visits, Richard had a brainstorm for an upcoming scene. “Do you know anyone with a large boat and cottage on a lake?” he asked excitedly.
“No, I don’t. Have you written a scene that needs it?” I asked. “Well no, but if you know someone who has a boat and a cottage, I’ll write one." he advised. So now he wants me to provide luxury locations so he can sit in them and not produce any content. In the 2 months I had worked on this side show, he hadn’t shot a frame. As I left, he followed me to the carport and laid a bombshell on me.
“It has occurred to me that all of my staff is getting paid by the government and I’m not getting anything out of this” he said in a low scheming voice. “I’d say you’re getting quite a bit out of this including 3 employees you don’t have to pay, one who does your grocery shopping and house chores” I pointed out.
“What I’m getting at is that I would like you and the rest to pay me a cut from your wages” he stated.
I laughed out loud. Not only was it barely enough to live on, he now wanted a cut of the action. This was rich and also garden variety extortion. When I told him he could be reported for this, he quickly went into biker mode and said in a menacing tone,” You’re looking for a real dog- fight aren’t you?”
You know, it takes a while for the penny to drop with me I admit but this penny came crashing down with rapid force. The whole drive home, I weighed the pros and cons of busting his chops. Would he have me rubbed out? How on earth did I end up in this situation? I’m just a gal trying to make an honest living in a town of my choice.
The next day, I reported him and within a couple months was informed that there had been other complaints and his days as Studio Head with slave labour were done. The project I worked on has never seen the light of day as I suspected. I learned a valuable lesson about how much compromise is too much compromise. Rule of thumb -- any job involving an office reeking of dope with skull heads languishing around the room should be investigated thoroughly before contracts are signed. Silent co-workers have their benefits but it may be prudent to find out exactly why they are so silent.
The next job I took in Niagara was a lot closer to my experience level. Regular hours, decent wage and offices in a building that had windows. Although I was cautious during my interview for the position, I was pleasantly surprised to note that my potential employer was wearing a clean shirt and shoes.
