Sweeping Disorder
Get out of the truck, varmint!
“Ok, get the broom. No problem. Easy enough.”
I ran as fast as I could back to base camp from the set. I had been instructed to retrieve a broom from the Art Department truck. As a Production Assistant very new to the industry, I was still learning the ropes and eager to prove myself.
“I might not know the name of every piece of gear,” I thought to myself, “but I definitely know what a broom is.”
How could I possibly screw this up?
I made it to the Art Department truck and hopped inside. It was a large cube truck with a roll-up back door and extendable ramp. Custom shelving lined the walls filled with dozens of props, decorations, knick-knacks, and other items the director might need on set.
I quickly surveyed my surroundings and found the push broom leaning against one corner. I grabbed it and turned around, only to find an irate/red-faced Art Director standing at the tailgate.
What followed was a verbal berating unlike anything I had ever heard before (even worse than my middle school football coach). All these years later I’m unable to quote exactly what was said, but allow me to paraphrase (substituting Yosemite Sam expletives for the younger readers).
“Don’t you ever set foot in this frick-n-frack truck! You need a flam-blast-it broom or any other bracka-flatt-flepple thing, you ask me first!”
And it went on like this for some time. If you haven’t figured it out by now, this was my first experience with a union department head. So, in my defense, keep these three things in mind:
I was in my early 20s.
Alabama is a right-to-work state (which is where this particular shoot took place).
Union rules is something they didn’t cover in my college production classes.
I think my brain has tried to repress most of that humiliation over the past 20 years, because I don’t even think I could testify under oath that the push broom ever made it back to set that day. I have a vague recollection of the Art Director taking it from me and delivering it himself.
“Oh great, now he’ll get all the credit.”
I just couldn’t believe the level of anger spewing from this guy’s every pore. It was completely unnecessary.
First lesson: Many of life’s circumstances aren’t nearly as big or as stressful or as world-ending as we make them out to be. We have to learn to take things in stride and keep things in perspective.
Second Lesson: There are always better ways to respond to life’s situations once we pause and take a moment to reflect and evaluate. Let’s put ourselves in the shoes of the Art Director for a moment. He comes to the truck and sees a young P.A. inside looking for a broom. Sure he could scream, yell, curse, and make this guy feel terrible. Or he could calmly and firmly explain union protocol and ask that the P.A. do it differently the next time.
Epilogue
I did my best to steer clear of the Art Director for the rest of the shoot, so thankfully I didn’t have any additional unpleasant run-ins with him. However, one day while walking through base camp I happened to pass the Art truck where I saw the Art Director lying on his back with EMTs standing over him and a crumpled bike near the curb (Side note: the Art Director always rode a bike around set to help him get from A to B quickly). I’m not exactly sure what happened, since I didn’t see the incident, but it was obvious he suffered a pretty nasty bike accident. And I didn’t see him around after that.
Now, I don’t necessarily believe in karma, but I’ll just say this: It never hurts to be nice.