Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite

I kind of can’t wait for my next cocktail party—or better yet, reunion.  I’ve read many a rousing adventure story and I understand their structure and tropes.  I can mold the Truth in my hands, cast it in plaster, build it out in spots and spin quite a yarn out of the past 12 months:

“Me?  Well for a while I was teaching children to read.  Then I traveled across the country a few times, was in the desert capturing rattlesnakes and exploring prehistoric structures, spent some time in the medical field, joined the circus, and currently I’m doing research into Relativity.”

Ha!  A shining tale, starring me: The Most Interesting Woman in the World.  But impressively, it’s all mostly true.  Even the circus part.  That’s right, friends!  All those times I’ve said,  
“I want to run away and join the circus!” 
weren’t just idle dreams.  No, that was career planning.

 Things are looking up

 

 What happened was this.  Way back in January when I was funemployed, a facebook friend posted a link to the temp agency in town that was hiring ushers for the Portland run of Cirque du Soleil’s Kooza.  I applied, and thanks to the fact that I look extremely reliable on paper, was called back very quickly.  I waited a couple months for the administrative Cirque team to get to town, then had a “group interview” – a grueling process during which we had to 1. Show up on time and 2. Wear all black (our “uniform”).  I can do both these things, though I did misplace my wallet and thus have no change for parking and therefore almost FAIL criteria #1, but a very kind woman on her smoke break outside her office building gave me meter money.  Thank you, wonderful stranger.  May you always have green lights when you are late.

At any rate, the depth of the interview process should have alerted me to the requirements of the job more so than any job description I was ever given.  Going through a temp company for a pool of workers with no technical requirements (we weren’t handling rigging or anything cool, unfortunately) produced a motley group of semi-employable folk from a variety of backgrounds and work experience.  “You’ll love it,” the Cirque supervisors and returning Cirque workers (called Followers because they travel – at their own expense – to the cities where Cirque is performing in order to do temp jobs) told us.  “You’ll make friends from all over.  You’ll bond.  You’ll party.  It’s like the theatre!”

That should’ve been my second clue.  I did high school theatre, and yes, I made some good friends there.  We became close quickly, in that intense intimacy that only long hours, shared makeup mirrors and teenage hormonal drama can engender.  But to be honest, I was also kind of a bitch then.  As a tiny girl in a position of authority (stage managing yet another motley crew in all black), I thought then I needed to Be Serious in order to Be Taken Seriously.  So there was No Messing Around on my stage.  (Unless it was done by my good friends and I was invited to join in.  Then, mischief aplenty!)

I still like to get actual work done when I’m in charge, but I’ve learned to use my tiny-girlness to my advantage as a supervisor: flirting my way through asking retired volunteers to improve their work ethic, allowing my goofiness and sarcasm to be part of presentations to large groups.  Whatever gets the job done – and I’ve learned that if people like me, they’re more likely to get the job done.  When it’s me on the front  lines, though, and I’m not toiling for a supervisor or organization I despise, I just can’t shake that Scandinavian WASPy work ethic.  I work smarter, and then sometimes harder.  When there is any kind of small-scale manual labor to be done (in Cirque’s case, putting inserts in programs and putting badges on lanyards), the spirit of Henry Ford starts acting through me, making mini-assembly lines and talking about conservation of movement.  Long story short, I’m a damn good worker, for no other reason than it feels better than half-assing it.  And I’ll be a happy cocker spaniel as long as I get an ear scratch or two from my supervisors.

The gritty world behind the scenes - where popcorn 

is ruthlessly segregated from the rest of the trash.

I would love to tell you that this dedication was immediately recognized by management, where it was  decided I could simultaneously climb the corporate ladder and the Big Top ladder, eventually becoming Cirque’s first Stage Manager/Aerialist.  But no.  I worked the Tapis Rouge, the lounge area where folks who paid over $250 for an adult ticket (uh huh) could get drinks and hors d’oeuvres before the show and tiny (incredibly delicious – the chef let me sneak one) bites of cheesecake on long skewers at intermission.  What did I do for this circus-going royalty?  Oh, pretty much what I’ve become adept at in public service positions: I stood unobtrusively with my hands clasped behind my back, smiling vaguely and staring into the middle distance.  Then I’d point out where the bathrooms were, and explain to the rabble that no, they  couldn’t come in to the fancy-pants tent, but they could purchase an upgrade for next time.  And during the show I sat on inflatable couches (real classy, but that’s a traveling show for you) and tried to read a  pocketbook or make a to-do list. Sometimes I colored.

I only worked a few times for Cirque because by the time they got here, I had a job that I was qualified for, and where I was more than a warm body who knew how to point to things in internationally inoffensive ways (the whole hand is safest – one finger can be considered rude).  So maybe I’m being unfair in judging the whole experience by my few evenings’ work.  I didn’t make lifelong friends; I didn’t party with contortionists; I didn’t pack up my life and carpool to Seattle to do the whole thing over again.  It wasn’t like The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus or Wings of Desire.  But I did learn how to lace up the flaps of a circus tent.  I did get to see the show for free.  I did peek into the practice tent, where I was told to stay quiet because “the Russians are having a meeting.”  I did get to be a part of something that is pretty impressive; that while not running entirely like clockwork, does a good job of bringing a fun time to people all over the country.
 

The circus is cool and all, but you just can't beat the perks at OMSI

And I was inspired to sign up for an adult Beginners Acrobatics and Trapeze class at my local aerialist studio.  My first class was on Wednesday.  I pulled and stretched and tumbled and flew a bit.  I'm still sore.  I can't wait to go back and get chalk dust all over myself again.  So, who knows?  Maybe with a couple years of practice, there’s a future for me in this after all.