Into the warehouse and into the orders again. There are so many venues and they all get a standard order of cleaning supplies, tools, fixings and other consumables. They get them when they request them, and the gamble tends to be that they never ask for more than about six on the same day. The ideal is that we have nine set up at all times, unwrapped but ready to accommodate special requests.
The supplier has fucked up royally. We should have had a load of screws at wholesale prices ages ago. It’s ridiculous that I’ve had to buy tens of thousands of screws to make up the shortfall. I had to tell my captains how much they’ve made me spend. I have a company card with deep pockets, but that doesn’t mean I should spend it badly. I wanted it to be clear it was all on the line. Nobody will fuel their vehicle if they know it only comes back when they invoice, and ditto nobody will do a hardware run. That’s why I’ve got the card, but then I end up being the one that runs up the money and nobody wants to be thought of as the one who spends more than anyone. I know it will all end up back in the same place though. Still I’m trying to choose my battles.
Tomorrow I’ll be in the warehouse on consumables, shifting and sorting things and making everything shipshape. Inevitably someone will want something. That’ll fall to me as Darren has to go be glamorous at an airport tomorrow because he’s a racing driver when he’s not response team, and the racing driver that was supposed to be there can’t be.
Darren is 47 and ripped, but with him I hear the voice of my wonderful Guildhall movement teacher Wendy Alnutt telling us not to go to the gym. His well wrought muscles have pulled his body out of whack with itself and he’s having the same sort of issues you might get if you have a big belly or, God help you, if you have massive knockers. He tried to get me to lean my whole body weight on his chest to pull it wider and ease his back pain. We will keep trying to find a solution – he’s got elastic cables and maybe we can pull against each other. It’s not a bromance. How dare you.
I’m in early tomorrow. Bunch of orders going out first thing. I need to be there to add whatever the fuck they need last minute and make sure nothing catches fire. We are coming together as a team now. Two weeks. I sent my first invoice today… I’m at the bottom of all my overdrafts. Thank fuck for this work. Still, it’s low blow. Darren gets a third again on my rate for the same work with the same experience level. Interesting how it all fits together and I’m thinking about systems going forward and what I hold to be my value. But … I’m an actor primarily. I love this event work but it will always be secondary to my vocation, irrespective of the money. I’ll get a fraction of this wage at the RSC, and that’s considered to be top of my beloved theatre industry. I hear my dad’s advice: “Go into another line of work.” He was pragmatic I guess. The event work has made the acting possible. All hail the event work. That’s why I’ve been here, not Wales. Wales would have been charitable, fun, all about friendship, but ultimately it would have been hard work for no remuneration. I’m getting to the stage where I can’t allow that anymore.
AlBarclay 