Monday, March 11, 2019
Side gigs part 6, or...
The power of rivers...
November came with a dull thud. Horseman's Hollow was over and my apartment still wasn't sold, so my financial situation was still a mess. I began looking a little farther afield (always dangerous), and I was planning to attend a conference in Las Vegas about making more money in a number of long-term ways. I didn't go, though I did get all the recordings and hand-outs, which was that I should have invested in the first place. I had a credit with the company holding the event, so the info didn't cost me anything more than I had spent a while ago anyway. As for the usefulness of the information or why I didn't go, that's a topic for another post.
Even if I had gone to Vegas, I still needed (wanted?) to have more money coming in over the short term. Christmas bells were ringing in my ears, as were Christmas bills. I was still driving for Lyft, but the demand had slipped as the weather turned colder, making the effort less and less profitable. As the rewards shrank, so did my motivation. As the holidays were fast approaching, I thought about working at the various malls in my area, but there were two issues: 1) getting recognized by students and/or colleagues, and 2) Where should I work and for whom?
Technically, the first concern was always in effect as a Lyft driver, but it never really bothered me while driving. Perhaps it should have, but as the one behind the wheel, I always felt I has some authority over the situation, and with a ball cap and sunglasses, felt pretty anonymous anyway. It more likely that I simply didn't think about it, as I was forcibly ignoring more serious risks already. Horseman's Hollow had me under a mask and makeup, so there was no chance I would have been outed. Working in a store for the Christmas shopping season left me much more open, but I still wanted to try. I wouldn't work in Westchester, so where could I go? Thankfully, I was able to use the Hudson Valley's geography to my advantage.
When I worked at the Palisades Mall in West Nyack from 1998-99, the bar scene in White Plains had come to life. The northern terminus of Mamaroneck Ave., known primarily for bus stops and a pizza place, suddenly had multiple restaurants, Irish pubs, and a new shopping center. My friends at the Rainforest Cafe knew all of this, and the area was only 13 miles away from West Nyack. so why whenever I invited them to come over, with me as the designated driver, would they never ever go? The Tappan Zee bridge.
For whatever reason, the Hudson river represents a psychological barrier. People just don't like to cross it. I'm no fan myself, especially the Bear Mountain Bridge, with it's horrible Parkway, but I will do it despite those misgivings. Why it doesn't affect me as much as others, I can't say, but I know how powerful it is. With that, I felt safe looking at potential jobs at the Palisades Mall, and the irony alone made that a tempting option. The other choice was Woodbury Commons, an outlet mall in Orange County on the other side of the Bear Mountain Bridge. I was fine with either, so I went to various website to see which stores were hiring. Since this was a deliberate effort, rather than just reacting to outside forces (Lyft), or trying a new experience on a whim (Horseman's Hollow), I could afford to be a little more choosy.
While looking at the places that were hiring, and there were many, I narrowed them down to the following stores: Macy's at the Palisades Mall, Target at a number of locations, Under Armor at Woodbury, and New Balance at Woodbury as well. Why did I choose these stores over so many others? Easy, either I or someone close to me likes shopping there.
My buddy Greg often said that if you're in need of something, work in that industry. You'll gain either free or heavily discounted access to the products or skills offered. Whatever my financial circumstances, and they were often dire, I always had food to eat as a restaurant worker. When I wanted to go to grad school, I worked at Mercy College. Greg is obsessed with electronics, so he repairs computers, and worked on photos shoots for Playboy. He gets free computer parts to custom-build high-end computers, and has older, though excellent, cameras. He refuses to address the rumors about models. For myself, I didn't expect an avalanche of free swag, but a discount on clothing, etc., would be a nice addition to whatever money I was making. Of course, I expected free tickets to Horseman's Hollow as a performer and came away empty-handed, so I looked to confirm that these stores offered some sort of discount to even seasonal temp workers, and all my choices did, to one degree or another.
The list was further narrowed pretty quickly. Moleskine, which sells expensive journals, didn't have any openings in Woodbury, only Manhattan and White Plains. The city was too far and Westchester was out of the question for the obvious reasons, so I crossed off that store. Target's application process was aggravating to say the least, so I put that choice to the side. I don't remember why Under Armor didn't work out, and that left New Balance and Macy's. Both had fairly simple application processes, so I sent the info electronically and hoped for the best. Macy's sent me an email asking me to make an appointment at one of their mass hiring events in White Plains for all the Hudson Valley stores, and New Balance called me to come in and be interviewed. The appointment at New Balance was before the event as Macy's, so I went to Woodbury and hoped for the best.
The New Balance interview went extremely well, and I was hired on the spot. I was getting $13 an hour, a free pair of sneakers, two red shirts, and 50% off anything the company sold. With that, I was a Christmas employee at a huge outlet mall, soon to be surrounded by young kids working at the stores, yuppies from the city, and foreign tourists with limited English. I was always fine as a customer or an observer, but now I was a part of all this, and required to engage with the system. To say I felt out of place is an understatement. My first day was actually the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I had the week off anyway, and I was able to take all the classes needed to insure HR compliance and get to know the other employees. My presence raised a few eyebrows, but once everyone saw I was there to work, I was fine. The store was closed on Thanksgiving, so I had a few days to relax, eat turkey, and prepare for Black Friday, and all its implied madness.
November came with a dull thud. Horseman's Hollow was over and my apartment still wasn't sold, so my financial situation was still a mess. I began looking a little farther afield (always dangerous), and I was planning to attend a conference in Las Vegas about making more money in a number of long-term ways. I didn't go, though I did get all the recordings and hand-outs, which was that I should have invested in the first place. I had a credit with the company holding the event, so the info didn't cost me anything more than I had spent a while ago anyway. As for the usefulness of the information or why I didn't go, that's a topic for another post.
Even if I had gone to Vegas, I still needed (wanted?) to have more money coming in over the short term. Christmas bells were ringing in my ears, as were Christmas bills. I was still driving for Lyft, but the demand had slipped as the weather turned colder, making the effort less and less profitable. As the rewards shrank, so did my motivation. As the holidays were fast approaching, I thought about working at the various malls in my area, but there were two issues: 1) getting recognized by students and/or colleagues, and 2) Where should I work and for whom?
Technically, the first concern was always in effect as a Lyft driver, but it never really bothered me while driving. Perhaps it should have, but as the one behind the wheel, I always felt I has some authority over the situation, and with a ball cap and sunglasses, felt pretty anonymous anyway. It more likely that I simply didn't think about it, as I was forcibly ignoring more serious risks already. Horseman's Hollow had me under a mask and makeup, so there was no chance I would have been outed. Working in a store for the Christmas shopping season left me much more open, but I still wanted to try. I wouldn't work in Westchester, so where could I go? Thankfully, I was able to use the Hudson Valley's geography to my advantage.
When I worked at the Palisades Mall in West Nyack from 1998-99, the bar scene in White Plains had come to life. The northern terminus of Mamaroneck Ave., known primarily for bus stops and a pizza place, suddenly had multiple restaurants, Irish pubs, and a new shopping center. My friends at the Rainforest Cafe knew all of this, and the area was only 13 miles away from West Nyack. so why whenever I invited them to come over, with me as the designated driver, would they never ever go? The Tappan Zee bridge.
For whatever reason, the Hudson river represents a psychological barrier. People just don't like to cross it. I'm no fan myself, especially the Bear Mountain Bridge, with it's horrible Parkway, but I will do it despite those misgivings. Why it doesn't affect me as much as others, I can't say, but I know how powerful it is. With that, I felt safe looking at potential jobs at the Palisades Mall, and the irony alone made that a tempting option. The other choice was Woodbury Commons, an outlet mall in Orange County on the other side of the Bear Mountain Bridge. I was fine with either, so I went to various website to see which stores were hiring. Since this was a deliberate effort, rather than just reacting to outside forces (Lyft), or trying a new experience on a whim (Horseman's Hollow), I could afford to be a little more choosy.
While looking at the places that were hiring, and there were many, I narrowed them down to the following stores: Macy's at the Palisades Mall, Target at a number of locations, Under Armor at Woodbury, and New Balance at Woodbury as well. Why did I choose these stores over so many others? Easy, either I or someone close to me likes shopping there.
My buddy Greg often said that if you're in need of something, work in that industry. You'll gain either free or heavily discounted access to the products or skills offered. Whatever my financial circumstances, and they were often dire, I always had food to eat as a restaurant worker. When I wanted to go to grad school, I worked at Mercy College. Greg is obsessed with electronics, so he repairs computers, and worked on photos shoots for Playboy. He gets free computer parts to custom-build high-end computers, and has older, though excellent, cameras. He refuses to address the rumors about models. For myself, I didn't expect an avalanche of free swag, but a discount on clothing, etc., would be a nice addition to whatever money I was making. Of course, I expected free tickets to Horseman's Hollow as a performer and came away empty-handed, so I looked to confirm that these stores offered some sort of discount to even seasonal temp workers, and all my choices did, to one degree or another.
The list was further narrowed pretty quickly. Moleskine, which sells expensive journals, didn't have any openings in Woodbury, only Manhattan and White Plains. The city was too far and Westchester was out of the question for the obvious reasons, so I crossed off that store. Target's application process was aggravating to say the least, so I put that choice to the side. I don't remember why Under Armor didn't work out, and that left New Balance and Macy's. Both had fairly simple application processes, so I sent the info electronically and hoped for the best. Macy's sent me an email asking me to make an appointment at one of their mass hiring events in White Plains for all the Hudson Valley stores, and New Balance called me to come in and be interviewed. The appointment at New Balance was before the event as Macy's, so I went to Woodbury and hoped for the best.
The New Balance interview went extremely well, and I was hired on the spot. I was getting $13 an hour, a free pair of sneakers, two red shirts, and 50% off anything the company sold. With that, I was a Christmas employee at a huge outlet mall, soon to be surrounded by young kids working at the stores, yuppies from the city, and foreign tourists with limited English. I was always fine as a customer or an observer, but now I was a part of all this, and required to engage with the system. To say I felt out of place is an understatement. My first day was actually the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I had the week off anyway, and I was able to take all the classes needed to insure HR compliance and get to know the other employees. My presence raised a few eyebrows, but once everyone saw I was there to work, I was fine. The store was closed on Thanksgiving, so I had a few days to relax, eat turkey, and prepare for Black Friday, and all its implied madness.
Saturday, March 09, 2019
Side gigs part 5, or...
Playing dress-up for profit and... fun?
Probably the best thing I can say about deciding to work as a scare actor at Horseman's Hollow is that I went in with very few expectations, save that I hoped to get some free tickets to the show, which didn't happen - for anyone. Other than that, I was along for the ride. I admit I was scared, not only of failing in my part, but in not fitting in. Happily, both were unfounded. When I went to the first meeting of the full cast, my friend Chris, the one who first suggested I audition, was also a performer! To say that I was relieved to see him is an understatement. Knowing him, I was welcomed by all. and I went out to dinner with a few people after we were done. Beyond this night, socializing was more limited than I thought, as people were coming from all over the Tri-State area to work, and we were finished late into the night. I learned very quickly that for some of us this was a fun side job, like myself, but for others, this was a needed paycheck along with more repetitions as an actor. During the evening, I learned more about my role: I was Executioner #2, using my height and width, combined with make-up and costuming, to create a scary persona. The evil laugh for which I'm rightly known helped - a lot. I also gave them my availability, and said I could work every show, not realizing I may have been over extending myself. I was introduced to my scene mates: Tony and Scott, experienced stunt and theater workers, respectively, along with someone else I can't remember. Measurements were taken, talked to a few people here and there, had dinner, then went home. People quickly found out what I did for a living, and naturally I helped a few people fix their financial aid situations, but I kept quiet about whether or not I really needed the paycheck or why I was there. Chris knew, and those with whom I shared our scene figured it out, but none bore me umbrage, thankfully.
Although we were working for the Hudson Valley Historical Society, the prior years had enough complaints that the application, I-9 and W4 forms, payroll, etc. were handled by an outside agency, in this case Manpower out of the White Plains office. This was a source of some stress for the other performers, though it didn't bother me much. We had to take tests, get training, etc., though email and video, which seemed really impersonal. I wasn't a fan, though I was happy knowing that our paychecks would be on time.
Next up was tech week, a fancy term for when we tried working out all the physical bugs: lighting, grounds, sets, etc., or in the words of Mike Tyson, "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." We got hit, early and often. The set up was that the executioners (myself and Tony) were to take two victims (Scott and the other guy), drag them to a guillotine, and pretend to behead them. Tony was the closest person to working actor, so he was more or less in charge. Ignoring the fact that a guillotine has nothing to do with colonial America, which was part of the theme of the maze, and the location: Philipsburg Manor in Sleepy Hollow, a recreated Dutch/British precolonial homestead, we had the problem that the equipment never worked as intended. Someone was to be placed on the table, had his head stuck in the hole, and when the blade dropped, the front of the table was supposed to drop, making it look like the head was lopped off, but keeping the actor safe. The front simply wouldn't drop, so we couldn't use it with a live victim. They tried to fix it, but were never successful. In addition to the two guillotines, we has some other gory set dressing: severed heads dangling from trees, a row of heads on pikes, etc. These little touches actually scared more people in the beginning than we did. This was important, as we were the first scene in the walk-though, so our work set the tone for rest of the patrons' experience. Although this meant extra pressure, being first wasn't all bad, for reasons I'll discuss later. We also learned that while we worked at the Manor, we staged next to the Sleepy Hollow train station, just over a mile away. We would sign in, get in costume, do make up and hair, eat dinner provided by the company, then one person would drive as many people as possible to the site. Since I had the largest car in our scene, I was pressed into transport duties.
The first weekend was the worst of the month. First, out costumes were heavy and covered us from head to toe. We wore full robes, a hood, a nylon mask, and gloves. with black shoes and sweat pants. It was unseasonably warm, staying in the 70's until well into the night. Second, Friday and Saturday were sold out, with Sunday nearly sold out, so we had mobs of people from 6:00 to 10:30 or 11pm. The director was intent on the four of us working the scene as intended, even as the sets malfunctioned. We had to fake getting our victims in position, even as the guillotines couldn't be used, yelling something, releasing the blade, then get back into position. We basically beat the shit out of each other for 5 hours a night for 3 days straight. There were no breaks, no chance to go to the bathroom, and barely any chance to get a drink of water. I was dead at the end of each night, dehydrated and overheated, wondering what exactly I'd gotten myself into, and feeling as if I should quit. Moreover, the scene simply didn't work, and would have been even worse if the equipment hadn't been broken. In the one or two minutes we were in front of patrons, grabbing the victim, dragging him to the guillotine, then "beheading" him, then resetting for the next group simply wasn't possible. If anything, we were lucky the custom-made devices were busted, as we had less to do. Groups were staggered by 10 every 15 minutes or so, and as the first scene, we were the first to be released. We would head back to the train station, change, remove the make-up, go to the bathroom, sign out, then go home. When we got back to the station, we were debriefed, and were promised they would fix the scene during the week. Despite all these setbacks, we did scare people throughout the weekend, and we even got a few kills: people so freaked out they left the grounds after the first scene.
The next weekend was indeed a little better: it was a little cooler, and the physical demands of the role lessened: We were given a dummy with a head magnetically attached. We placed it in the guillotine, and we would behead it instead. It didn't work perfectly, as the head was terribly fake looking, I was tasked with scooping it up off the ground like a lost fumble, and that sometimes broke immersion, but at least I wasn't going home bruised. My back was another matter. To combat dehydration, I bought a case of bottled water, some sugar free flavor packets, and sugar free cough drops. None of us has much voice left after the first weekend. We were able to keep what I brought at the scene, since the deck of the guillotine was now covered so as to hide the dummy. My black fabric cube was basically invisible in the low light, so we has a safe place to put our stuff, store water, etc. If there was a pause in the action, we could duck out of sight, get a drink, grab a cough drop, then return to our marks. We also lost our fourth performer; he simply disappeared, but this helped, ironically. The area was a little small for four men, and now we had more to move. The people in charge didn't even notice until we said something, but by then we had a nice routine going, so they left us alone. As far as the customers were concerned, we did scare more patrons, so long as the didn't look to closely at the head or I wasn't running after it too much. I wasn't anywhere near as shot from night to night, but I still wasn't happy with my role: standing in one place, dropping the blade, then chasing after the rubber head, and yes, it bounced, occasionally making people laugh. There was just no way to make that ominous. Thankfully, I wouldn't have to wait long for our set to malfunction even more.
The two keys to our modified scene were the blade dropping correctly, which didn't always happen, and the head coming of the body, which was also inconsistent. Eventually both stopped altogether: the blade got wedged in its track, and the head was so badly damaged that the magnet kept coming unglued. Eventually the director gave up, and at that point we had the opportunity to have some real fun, all at the expense of our patrons. Freed from the tedium of our prescribed act, we could chase the people, switch from one person to another, and say whatever we wanted. We weren't allowed to touch the customers, though some inadvertent bumping did occur, and they weren't allowed to touch us or the sets, though I was accosted a few times, and people liked grabbing the dangling heads. One of my favorite scares went this way: Scott would jump out from behind the fence corralling people into our area, and this one women jumped back and started yelling at him. Because her head was turned, I was able to sneak up outside of her field of vision, then jump right into her face just as she said "You mother...." Just as she was about to channel Samuel L. Jackson, she saw me around 3 inches from her face, and screamed at the top of her lungs: "Where the fuck did you come form?" I truly enjoyed that one. I didn't get to savor it for long, as we reset immediately.
There were a few times when I broke character, but always with good reason. If a child was freaking out, I would lift my mask, and use a soft voice to let him or her know that it was just a show, and everything would be fine. I could have gotten fired for this, but I didn't care. $19 an hour to traumatize children was not what I signed up for. Terrorizing adults was another matter.
As we had more freedom to improvise, it also meant we could go to the bathroom for a few minutes each night, and I was able to check my phone every once in a while as well. It took nearly 2 weeks, but I was comfortable in my role, good at scaring people, and was having fun. As Halloween came closer, we had more nights, with the climax being 7 days in a row: Thursday the 25th to Halloween. Nevertheless, I did take two nights off: I couldn't work the 25th due the the college, and I called in sick on Sunday the 28th. Halloween came and went; we all got kudos from the people in charge, and we said our goodbyes. I handed in my costume, signed out, and went home. Just like that, it was over, with everyone heading to their next gig, show, etc. This was an interesting foray into performing, and I did make a decent amount of money, around $1500. I've worked harder for less, made a few new friends, and had a record of being professional, reliable, and diligent. Would I do it again? Maybe. There are two different ways of approaching this question, and I don't want to step on the final entry in this series, so let's say that if I did, I would take Sundays off to rest, have dinner with Carolyn, and hit my meeting. By the way, I never told my friends what I was doing, and they were mad at me as a result. They would have come if they knew I was there, so I'll be sure to say something next time - if there is one.
Probably the best thing I can say about deciding to work as a scare actor at Horseman's Hollow is that I went in with very few expectations, save that I hoped to get some free tickets to the show, which didn't happen - for anyone. Other than that, I was along for the ride. I admit I was scared, not only of failing in my part, but in not fitting in. Happily, both were unfounded. When I went to the first meeting of the full cast, my friend Chris, the one who first suggested I audition, was also a performer! To say that I was relieved to see him is an understatement. Knowing him, I was welcomed by all. and I went out to dinner with a few people after we were done. Beyond this night, socializing was more limited than I thought, as people were coming from all over the Tri-State area to work, and we were finished late into the night. I learned very quickly that for some of us this was a fun side job, like myself, but for others, this was a needed paycheck along with more repetitions as an actor. During the evening, I learned more about my role: I was Executioner #2, using my height and width, combined with make-up and costuming, to create a scary persona. The evil laugh for which I'm rightly known helped - a lot. I also gave them my availability, and said I could work every show, not realizing I may have been over extending myself. I was introduced to my scene mates: Tony and Scott, experienced stunt and theater workers, respectively, along with someone else I can't remember. Measurements were taken, talked to a few people here and there, had dinner, then went home. People quickly found out what I did for a living, and naturally I helped a few people fix their financial aid situations, but I kept quiet about whether or not I really needed the paycheck or why I was there. Chris knew, and those with whom I shared our scene figured it out, but none bore me umbrage, thankfully.
Although we were working for the Hudson Valley Historical Society, the prior years had enough complaints that the application, I-9 and W4 forms, payroll, etc. were handled by an outside agency, in this case Manpower out of the White Plains office. This was a source of some stress for the other performers, though it didn't bother me much. We had to take tests, get training, etc., though email and video, which seemed really impersonal. I wasn't a fan, though I was happy knowing that our paychecks would be on time.
Next up was tech week, a fancy term for when we tried working out all the physical bugs: lighting, grounds, sets, etc., or in the words of Mike Tyson, "Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth." We got hit, early and often. The set up was that the executioners (myself and Tony) were to take two victims (Scott and the other guy), drag them to a guillotine, and pretend to behead them. Tony was the closest person to working actor, so he was more or less in charge. Ignoring the fact that a guillotine has nothing to do with colonial America, which was part of the theme of the maze, and the location: Philipsburg Manor in Sleepy Hollow, a recreated Dutch/British precolonial homestead, we had the problem that the equipment never worked as intended. Someone was to be placed on the table, had his head stuck in the hole, and when the blade dropped, the front of the table was supposed to drop, making it look like the head was lopped off, but keeping the actor safe. The front simply wouldn't drop, so we couldn't use it with a live victim. They tried to fix it, but were never successful. In addition to the two guillotines, we has some other gory set dressing: severed heads dangling from trees, a row of heads on pikes, etc. These little touches actually scared more people in the beginning than we did. This was important, as we were the first scene in the walk-though, so our work set the tone for rest of the patrons' experience. Although this meant extra pressure, being first wasn't all bad, for reasons I'll discuss later. We also learned that while we worked at the Manor, we staged next to the Sleepy Hollow train station, just over a mile away. We would sign in, get in costume, do make up and hair, eat dinner provided by the company, then one person would drive as many people as possible to the site. Since I had the largest car in our scene, I was pressed into transport duties.
The first weekend was the worst of the month. First, out costumes were heavy and covered us from head to toe. We wore full robes, a hood, a nylon mask, and gloves. with black shoes and sweat pants. It was unseasonably warm, staying in the 70's until well into the night. Second, Friday and Saturday were sold out, with Sunday nearly sold out, so we had mobs of people from 6:00 to 10:30 or 11pm. The director was intent on the four of us working the scene as intended, even as the sets malfunctioned. We had to fake getting our victims in position, even as the guillotines couldn't be used, yelling something, releasing the blade, then get back into position. We basically beat the shit out of each other for 5 hours a night for 3 days straight. There were no breaks, no chance to go to the bathroom, and barely any chance to get a drink of water. I was dead at the end of each night, dehydrated and overheated, wondering what exactly I'd gotten myself into, and feeling as if I should quit. Moreover, the scene simply didn't work, and would have been even worse if the equipment hadn't been broken. In the one or two minutes we were in front of patrons, grabbing the victim, dragging him to the guillotine, then "beheading" him, then resetting for the next group simply wasn't possible. If anything, we were lucky the custom-made devices were busted, as we had less to do. Groups were staggered by 10 every 15 minutes or so, and as the first scene, we were the first to be released. We would head back to the train station, change, remove the make-up, go to the bathroom, sign out, then go home. When we got back to the station, we were debriefed, and were promised they would fix the scene during the week. Despite all these setbacks, we did scare people throughout the weekend, and we even got a few kills: people so freaked out they left the grounds after the first scene.
The next weekend was indeed a little better: it was a little cooler, and the physical demands of the role lessened: We were given a dummy with a head magnetically attached. We placed it in the guillotine, and we would behead it instead. It didn't work perfectly, as the head was terribly fake looking, I was tasked with scooping it up off the ground like a lost fumble, and that sometimes broke immersion, but at least I wasn't going home bruised. My back was another matter. To combat dehydration, I bought a case of bottled water, some sugar free flavor packets, and sugar free cough drops. None of us has much voice left after the first weekend. We were able to keep what I brought at the scene, since the deck of the guillotine was now covered so as to hide the dummy. My black fabric cube was basically invisible in the low light, so we has a safe place to put our stuff, store water, etc. If there was a pause in the action, we could duck out of sight, get a drink, grab a cough drop, then return to our marks. We also lost our fourth performer; he simply disappeared, but this helped, ironically. The area was a little small for four men, and now we had more to move. The people in charge didn't even notice until we said something, but by then we had a nice routine going, so they left us alone. As far as the customers were concerned, we did scare more patrons, so long as the didn't look to closely at the head or I wasn't running after it too much. I wasn't anywhere near as shot from night to night, but I still wasn't happy with my role: standing in one place, dropping the blade, then chasing after the rubber head, and yes, it bounced, occasionally making people laugh. There was just no way to make that ominous. Thankfully, I wouldn't have to wait long for our set to malfunction even more.
The two keys to our modified scene were the blade dropping correctly, which didn't always happen, and the head coming of the body, which was also inconsistent. Eventually both stopped altogether: the blade got wedged in its track, and the head was so badly damaged that the magnet kept coming unglued. Eventually the director gave up, and at that point we had the opportunity to have some real fun, all at the expense of our patrons. Freed from the tedium of our prescribed act, we could chase the people, switch from one person to another, and say whatever we wanted. We weren't allowed to touch the customers, though some inadvertent bumping did occur, and they weren't allowed to touch us or the sets, though I was accosted a few times, and people liked grabbing the dangling heads. One of my favorite scares went this way: Scott would jump out from behind the fence corralling people into our area, and this one women jumped back and started yelling at him. Because her head was turned, I was able to sneak up outside of her field of vision, then jump right into her face just as she said "You mother...." Just as she was about to channel Samuel L. Jackson, she saw me around 3 inches from her face, and screamed at the top of her lungs: "Where the fuck did you come form?" I truly enjoyed that one. I didn't get to savor it for long, as we reset immediately.
There were a few times when I broke character, but always with good reason. If a child was freaking out, I would lift my mask, and use a soft voice to let him or her know that it was just a show, and everything would be fine. I could have gotten fired for this, but I didn't care. $19 an hour to traumatize children was not what I signed up for. Terrorizing adults was another matter.
As we had more freedom to improvise, it also meant we could go to the bathroom for a few minutes each night, and I was able to check my phone every once in a while as well. It took nearly 2 weeks, but I was comfortable in my role, good at scaring people, and was having fun. As Halloween came closer, we had more nights, with the climax being 7 days in a row: Thursday the 25th to Halloween. Nevertheless, I did take two nights off: I couldn't work the 25th due the the college, and I called in sick on Sunday the 28th. Halloween came and went; we all got kudos from the people in charge, and we said our goodbyes. I handed in my costume, signed out, and went home. Just like that, it was over, with everyone heading to their next gig, show, etc. This was an interesting foray into performing, and I did make a decent amount of money, around $1500. I've worked harder for less, made a few new friends, and had a record of being professional, reliable, and diligent. Would I do it again? Maybe. There are two different ways of approaching this question, and I don't want to step on the final entry in this series, so let's say that if I did, I would take Sundays off to rest, have dinner with Carolyn, and hit my meeting. By the way, I never told my friends what I was doing, and they were mad at me as a result. They would have come if they knew I was there, so I'll be sure to say something next time - if there is one.
