Decompresssssssssss

God I’m strung out now. Happy but done. They are unloading the tech van in the rain up in Aberdeen. I’m not there.

This tiny wee crew and everyone is overlapping jobs. There’s way too much eye rolling and finger pointing for my taste, but it is all sharpening to a point and the footage is excellent. I’m sure I’m involved in something that will be a strong result. Artistically the team is really buzzing, and THE SLIDERS GOT USED TWICE. Today they even used the two little lighting stands that got slung in for the Godox light wands – “panels” as the Americans like to say. We had borrowed a little nubbin from the gaffer so nobody asked for them until I was off site and driving with the returned nubbin in the back. I was pleased I could remember their number and rough location. The job ended just as I was becoming a ninja. Not that you’d know it by the way people have been speaking to me.

Before I arrived in Aberdeen, a projector was delivered to the office. It was tidied up under a table and nobody worked out it was there when it was needed. The only person who had already seen it described it as huge. “Have you seen a huge thing?” “No.” They had to rent another one.

This morning I could feel the usual pointless blame game. They had found it under a table I didn’t set up, but that I had been using to charge the walkies. Blame first, solve second – that’s been the culture. Suddenly there was a pointed “somebody” who had tidied up the projector. It made me chuckle bitterly.

You know me, oh constant reader. When have I EVER tidied anything up?? Also, and yeah I’m in this question, how did nobody look under the tables?

I pretended not to notice that there was this pointless attribution of blame after the problem had arisen and been solved. It’s like the pointless release form posters that I didn’t know about and got hauled out for not bringing. Pressure does strange things to people, unfamiliar pressure doubly so. I don’t give a fuck who did anything or who forgot what or what this person’s job was or that person was supposed to have done. I give a fuck about the result, and honing a system that works under pressure without any eye rolling or status bullshit. Yes there was a very well known human involved, but they weren’t playing status. So why should anyone else?

I’ve enjoyed this. I thrive under pressure. But…

I rang Tristan today who has just come off a fortnight as Art Director elsewhere. “What the fuck are they getting mardy with you about batteries? How dare the gaffers track your speed in the van? You shouldn’t even be driving it! What sort of fucking outfit have you got yourself involved in? If they want you to drive slowly put in a fucking limiter… and they were on you for memory cards? And they talked to you like what? You actually should have walked mate. You should have got a taxi back to London on the company card…” was the beginning of a half hour conversation that ended with me having to persuade him not to fly up to Aberdeen to have a bloody word with someone. “You don’t take any shit from me whatsoever! You haul me out hard if I’m even slightly out of line. Why did you eat so much shit for them?” “Because if I try to hold my ground then we have to have a meeting about why I was wrong. I’ve got shit to do. Quicker and better to munch those turds.” “You need to have a word with them once it’s all over.” meh. It is what it is.

We’re all pulling in the same direction, and we all bring something different to the party. That’s the point. If we were all the same we wouldn’t need society. I’m a great big loud visible friendly clumsy Yang with an eidetic memory, no fear and an ease with making machinery move and with talking. I’m not pretending to be anything other than what I am. I have made friends on this job. Sound Matt is a sound guy. Ha ha but he is solid and started getting angry on my behalf cus he’s been on lots of sets and knows the roles. Wardrobe Olivia sees the me of me – she’s a northern Lou. I showed her JoybombLondon on Instagram. “I’m the panda. And most of the men.” “That woman is so fucking cool,” she says about Amy the artist. Yes she is. Twenty four years old and she gets my jam. Phew. I’ve artlessly liked everyone on this set and felt it reciprocated. Art dep. Producer. Even the chaperone mum. The hardest run I’ve had has been with my old mates. But ain’t that always the case? We can be very different creatures when we are at work. I’ve got old mates I know for absolute certain that I would NEVER want to work with. They’ll always be my mates though.

I just went to the local pub in Chorley for a terrible steak. They are playing eighties music. They just played Only You by Yazoo and it is it second time I’ve heard it in decades, the first time being 4 hours ago in the van. I’ve been in an eighties music hole. I’ve played through so much cheese as I’ve crawled home. I’ve eaten up the miles. I can’t wait to stop this though and get back home and then to Lou and to Boy and to friends and to no more eye-rolling. I’m going to miss it though. The early starts, everyone mucking in, working with old mates, life.