I’ve decided that everyone in Seattle is simply psychotic. I feel this way largely because everyone I’ve interviewed with recently has been running some weird, undefined, agenda that I can’t tap into. Today I sat down with a very intense former actor who is now the director of a children’s theater. I think it’s important to note that he is a former actor who originated in New Jersey, suffered hard times, and came out of it a shining star…only to fall from grace and find new meaning in his life by teaching others. Now he’s running a children’s theater based on end-results based performances, riding the children hard, and not being too cute…because that sucks when people think kid’s theater is cute. I’m not really sure what happened, I just know that when he left for a moment my eyes bugged out because I couldn’t believe what I was enduring. I was overwhelmed by him immediately. I don’t like that in an interview, feeling like I’m being blown out of the water before I even know the h2o content. I also find true born and bred east coasters to be intense, blatant, and over-bearing. Everything is extreme, from their take on religion to the politics of the theater. This guy kept jumping up and acting things out during the interview. He kept talking about the definition of ‘funny’ and what is ‘ ‘funny’ and what is not…how part of his determining whether or not I got the job was if he thought I could, or knew, how to be funny. I said, “Of course I’m funny!” and actually wrapped my knuckles on the table. Than he said, “Ha ha, tell me a funny story.” Of course my mind went blank. Luckily I knew enough to just keep this guy going on about himself, (because all actors love talking about themselves), and I was spared from telling a humorous story.
This guy liked my last name, the fact that I was female, and the fact that I attempted to catch up with him while he talked 90 mph. I riffed with him a little bit, but I still feel a little disturbed, and a little put off. While waiting for the interview, I overheard him talking about how he struggled through the hardships of New Jersey and got out of it “alive.” I dislike when people over sensationalize their lives…yeah, yeah, we all got problems.
Than he made a point during the interview to mention to me that he’s taken ballet classes AND he’s straight. OK, can we get past the whole “ballet means you’re automatically a gay man” stereotype? I endured this two weeks ago at Easter brunch with my extended family of in-laws. “I like watching women dance but men, ew, no way! The tights alone freak me out.” Let’s just say props to straight guys who are brave (?) enough to take a ballet class filled with absolutely beautiful women and leave it at that.
This is a day camp position here, people, not some gigantic thing. And yes, I’m passionate about children’s theater, and yes, I’m a seasoned teacher…but I’m not psychotic about it. And come on, isn’t it, really, just a little bit, about the money? Kids are a HOT commodity, they make good dough. Yes, I like teaching kids but I also like the $$ and I don’t want to be wallowing in leotards for the rest of my life.
It was a relief to leave the interview, even though afterward I awkwardly followed the director and a board member down the street because the Thai restaurant they were having lunch at was next to my bus stop. I waited in the soggy rain for ten minutes until I finally picked up a #28 (Note: this was the same bus that carried the crazy zither player several weeks ago). I sat next to a lady who refused to share space and opted to accommodate her large purse beside her instead of holding it on her lap like a decent bus riding citizen. (C’mon people, we all have to squeeze sometimes, move your G.D. purse out of my way so I can sit my ass down!)
I made a detour to Wellsfargo up on 4th and Seneca, (this was carefully mapped out, btw, on a piece of paper, complete with bus times, routes, and three downtown bank locations), only to make a horrible discovery: My first paycheck from The Beautiful Dance Store was sitting at home in my jean jacket. What a rotten feeling. So I hurled myself back out into the wind and rain only to see the #3 chug past me. So I made a choice: I ran. I became one of those psycho, chasing-down-the-bus-in-impractical-shoes-type people. I made this choice because I was pissed, hungry, and had to pee. Sure, I could have sat around in a Starbucks or a Torrefazione and drank coffee while reflecting my stressful interview. But you know how it is: I just wanted to get home. There’s only so much roughing it I can do before I start feeling wet, tired, and nostalgic for the days when I drove a car. (And coffee shops inevitably cost money, even though this usually allows you to use their restroom).
We met up with Johnny Peel later in the evening, who interestingly enough, endured his own hellish interview this past week. Of course it was on a much grander scale, because he actually flew out from Columbus, Ohio and spent a full day in the hideous grip of a local community college. I took him to Cafe Verita and enticed him with their rows of tantalizing cupcakes. We went to St. Clouds (which is slowly becoming my local watering hole) and I had a Pomegranate Manhattan–which is just as sweet and decadent as it sounds–while Johnny and Josh drank Fat Tire. The best part of the day was the inexpensive tab, hallelujah! We’ve finally found a good place to get cheap drinks in this overpriced town.