For the Whole

23 07 2010

Several years ago, I was directing a one-act play; a show included five actresses and one actor. Given that it was merely a one-act, it was a little less involved than a full-length production. The actors were expected to show up for rehearsals prepared, meaning know their lines and remembering their blocking ->the actor’s movement on stage. I have worked in theater since I was very young and always loved the art form. One might say that theater is a passion for me – one might say this.

When I direct, I give my actors a significant amount of latitude to find their character and do their job – memorization. And while, it is their job, that doesn’t mean it is easy. It takes work and it takes concentration, but it is what actors sign up for when they audition or accept a role in a production. One of my actresses was struggling with memorization and I encouraged her to spend more time outside of rehearsal studying; she was in her late sixties, so I was patient with her struggle. She started to over-compensate for her lack of preparation by bringing in props and helping other actors with costumes, as well as bringing snacks or drinks to each rehearsal. I pulled her aside at one point and thanked her for the help but I really needed her to concentrate on what her job was in this show – to be an actor and actors memorize lines.

She seemed to improve but the over-compensation continued. Our final rehearsal was rough and I reminded each actor of their responsibilities, not only to a paying audience but to each other – their teammates. They each assured me they would be ready; they understood their roles. The next night, we opened. I also ran tech for the show, meaning I worked the lights and sound for each performance; I had selected specific music and created a look for the show using these mediums – all to accent the actors’ work. I was mostly happy with the show, just hoped my one actor would be able to step up to the plate.

Unfortunately, her lack of preparation was clear and she failed her fellow actors miserably, dropping lines, skipping over several pages of dialogue and stammering. The discomfort was evident on stage and my other actors looked as if they were dying a painful death. I had given the benefit of the doubt to an actor that hadn’t prepared nor did she understand the power behind that preparation. Not only this, but she felt that multiple mistakes in front of an audience were OK given all the other “stuff” she had contributed to the production. How wrong she was and she looked at me incredulously as I fired her from the production. I couldn’t put my other actors – the prepared ones – through another gut-wrenching performance. Another actor stepped into her role and performed beautifully through the remainder of the run.

The bottom line is everyone is replaceable. Everyone. Do the job you are assigned to do. Understand why you are paid and fulfill your end of the bargain. I have worked with colleagues that perform similarly to this actor, they fail to prepare and fail to perform their “own” job; trying to cover it by sticking their noses in everyone else’s affairs, hoping to divert attention. This experience changed how I direct and how I work. Recognizing your own responsibility and how it affects the team is paramount to achieving success, both individual and joint. And while “you’re fired” were difficult words to say, it was the best thing I could have done for the whole. And that’s what it’s all about.

by rayannethorn

from Bonus Track by RT on recruitingblogs.com





A Road Less Traveled

9 07 2010
While I only live thirty-two miles from my work, every work day I climb into my gray 2005 Honda Accord and prepare for a commute that typically takes an hour and a half. The congested freeways mark the only path into the city where Broadbean USA resides. There have been slick roads, hundreds of accidents to pass, rain, fog, crazy drivers, slammed-on brakes, traffic sometimes dead stopped, and a couple of traffic tickets along the way. Mostly, there has been a significant amount of talk time on my beloved mobile device. I cannot say I have never texted or never emailed or never facebooked while driving – I confess to these crimes.

My phone has been my constant companion during my commute and one hand always on the wheel.

My drive time has given me endless hours to think, numerous topics to write about, and opportunity to speak with my mom and friends often. I usually have one or two business calls while driving and have even reviewed documents when two mile per hour traffic has allowed. I wish I could say I have hated this drive but the fact of the matter is, I have not. I have seen incredible sunrises, seemingly impossible sunsets, driven through fires, and seen things that have changed my life and way of thinking.
In just over two weeks, my drive will be reduced to only fifteen minutes and I will no longer move along at a snail’s pace on packed, over crowded highways wishing I could cheat and sneak into the car pool lane (I have tried and while I didn’t get caught, I felt guilty for weeks.) I will now be driving along the ocean on the popular PCH (Highway One, Pacific Coast Highway.) The added time with my family (15 more hours a week), the reduced wear and tear on my car, diminished fuel costs, and eliminated stress will serve me well.
But I must admit, I will miss my time. I will miss the opportunity to really focus on issues that need solutions. I will miss my phone calls. I will miss the way I could get lost in music or a good audio book. And I will miss the further discovery of self. I guess I will find it in my morning walks that I will now have the time to resume. 😉
What I have gained almost outweighs the time lost. Almost. This drive has been a part of who I am since February of 2007. Like any trial, what didn’t kill me, made me stronger. And while I may miss it, at first, I look forward to it being in my past, to it being less about who I am and more about how I became who I am today. My Honda with 120,000 miles may die of heartbreak but freeways 91 and 55 will have one less traveler. Me.