Bloody, Bold and Resolute

Fourty-eight hour work week this week...topped off with the ridiculousness of the children's show. Arg. I have never so badly wanted to tell off a director for a lack of communication.

Long story short...Monday: measurements, Tuesday: shop for publicity photo, Wednesday: Ross came home and I 'missed' my production meeting. Thursday: publicity photo. A bit rushed of a schedule isn't it? Consider I work until five on weekdays and all of above said events started at 6ish.

But the end of the story...the director, who was late to the publicity photos saw the kids in costume for the shoot and immediately asked "what are they wearing? Are those the costumes? I mean the real costumes?" No. I pulled something out of my ass...

I could never acutally say that.

He then sad something about the play being set in 1950, followed by asking if I even read the play.

Never in any of our discussions was the 1950s even mentioned. I was ready to walk out, I was so pissed. But didn't. My job is to create the show he envisions withing the limited resources and time that I have. But I sure as hell am never working with this particular director, nor this theatre ever again.

I'm meeting with him in the morning to salvage what we can of the design the entire production team thought he had approved weeks ago. Assumptions, mis-communications and that frickin Minnesota nice are wearing my last nerve.

But enough venting. I had 48 marvelous hours at work letting out my frustrations on brand new looking costumes. Twenty five ensembles to distress for the Scottish play in a week. Even with the extra hands I was falling behind. And notes kept coming my way, three and four pages at a time. But after a full day of overtime (I probably made close to Ross' weekly salary in eight hours of overtime...unions do certainly have their perks) I do believe we have caught up. One more full day of work before the show goes into tech.

I wonder how many notes will come of it...