A Short Fall From a High Horse.

I've never been accused of being conceited. As far as I know. Arrogant, yes. Wiseacre, certainly. Smart-Ass, all the time. Conceit is that special characteristic that is claimed by a small percentage of people who, for some reason, have been lead to believe their poop smells...well, fragrant and nice. Like lilies or lavender. Call it pride, call it hubris, it is arguably the original and most serious of the Seven Deadly Sins (I'm not a religious person, so understand this isn't about the nature of sin as much as it is the nature of ridiculous people, so...). 

A few weeks ago, teen heartthrob Justin Bieber made his "acting debut" on CSI:Crime Scene Investigation. Okay, we all know what that means. Famous person gets to do something he is not qualified to do because he is famous. Happens all the time. I don't like it, but it happens and it's here to stay. Fortunately, I can complain about it and somehow I feel better afterwards. Series regular Marg Helgenberger, an Emmy Award winning actress of some note and quality, mentioned in a French magazine interview that the little pop-star boy was "a brat." Apparently, the young man is quite the "prankster" and locked a producer in a closet and put his fist through a cake that was on the Craft Services table. After Ms. H made those unflattering claims, Master Bieber tweeted, "It's kinda lame when someone you met briefly and never worked with comments on you. I will continue to wish them luck and be kind."

So, in other words, if she really would have taken the time to get to know you she would have excused your childish behavior because you are just too irresistible to stay mad at. But, of course. Actually, it's kinda lame when an inexperienced, young guest actor strolls onto a set and behaves like a douche bag.

Now, the ONLY reason I'm ranting about this little tidbit now, as opposed to a few weeks ago when it happened, is because I finally watched the episode (part one of a two-part story arc) with the little darling. Had he been a genius acting prodigy or turned in a brilliant performance full of depth and emotion or held me glued to the screen with his deep, sinister gaze -- okay, I would cut him some slack. He didn't. He was a dull. He was boring. He was out of his league.

Here's what young men and women like Mr. B need to take away from this seemingly innocuous case of brattiness:

1) CSI is a major TV show and has been on the air a long time. It makes the network a ton of money. A couple hundred people come to set everyday and take their jobs very seriously. They feed their families and pay their bills based on the work they do on this particular show. That is not to say they don't have fun on the set. I know for a fact they do. But if there are the occasional pranksters on set, it is because they have earned the right through years of hard work and dedication to the show.

2) Producers actually do important things. They run the show, keep things on schedule, watch budgets, and contribute some pretty essential elements to a successful show. This same producer may have been the one to approve you being cast in the show. Might have even been the one to guide the writers through the script that gave you the words you would say when the camera started to roll.

3) The Craft Services table is for everyone. The food and drinks and snacks provided are paid for by the production company and meant for the whole cast and crew. So by being so cute and adorable as to put your fist in a cake meant for everyone -- well, let's just say that you showed little class and even less maturity. Wasn't there any other way to exhibit your overwhelming cool and childlike sense of humor?

Under the right circumstance and with the right artist, there is no reason why performers cannot pursue these cross-over careers. (Besides, it gives me stuff to rant about!) Here's a caveat: At the very least, be professional when you show up. Another, no doubt better, actor was passed over because your agent did a good job pulling off this little promotion stunt. At best, get some training before hand. Take some classes, learn some lingo, watch some episodes of the show, learn about the people you'll be working with. Fans of this show are passionate about it. Don't piss them off by wasting their time with your own ego.

Treat the opportunity respect. You can screw around when you go on tour. Hopefully, one of your back-up singers won't steal a loaf of bread from your dressing room.

Don't Blame the Actors

Every once in a while a really good actor will make a terrible movie. Gregory Peck, Laurence Olivier and James Mason all were in Boys From Brazil. Forrest Whitaker played a role in Battlefield Earth. Jeremy Irons did Dungeons & Dragons. Hey, everyone has rent or a mortgage to pay. You have to feed your family and buy your kids shoes, right? It's understandable. No one can be brilliant ALL the time. Not the actor's fault the movie sucked. In fact, I'll go so far as to say it's not the actor's fault THEY suck in a movie. That's right, I said it.

How many times have you sat through an awards broadcast while the winner proceeds to thank everyone that "helped them win" the award? Their agent, the other actors, the director, the producers, their lawyers, their managers, the studio heads, their reiki master and pilates instructor, whoever. If actors feel obliged to thank all those that made them good, why are those same actors not allowed to blame those same people when something comes out bad? Certainly, if the actor can't point fingers - for fear of never working again - the viewing audience should certainly be understanding enough to know all the people are to ultimately blame for an awful film.

For all the cliche, film making truly is a collaborative process. So is theater, so is television. That  collaboration starts way before the camera begins to roll. It starts from the moment a writer puts pen to paper (okay, turns on his computer, whatever...you get the point). This "process" then goes through an evolution that would curl Darwin's toes. Producers who have an interest in a certain property, studio heads who green light the project, directors who actually cast and make the film, casting directors, agents, managers, and finally the actors gets a call. "Hey, we got a job that pays money. Want it?" There are not a lot of actors who can make a movie based on their name alone, so you have to look at the whole process when it comes to assigning blame for a real stinker.

Actors do not work in a vacuum. They are assisted in the creative process by a whole host of creative types not the least of which is the director. It is a rare artist that can direct himself. A poor job of directing a good actor can have terrible consequences on the final product. Directing isn't just setting up the shot and pointing the camera. Sometimes even directors don't do that. The director gives shape and tempo to a film or a play. The result of poor direction can very easily be a poor performance. By the very nature of his job, an actor is dependent on a director to help him craft a performance. Magic doesn't just "happen" when the actor steps in from of the camera.

A poorly written script can  submarine the greatest actor. Did you see Catwoman? I rest my case. Actors say words. Even the greatest actor in the world cannot save a bad script. I usually love Rob Reiner as a director, but North is perhaps the worst script of all time. Good director, good cast, bad words.

Sometimes a casting director or agent is to blame, working so hard to push a particular A-list actor into a roll that he or she has no business playing -- for whatever reason. Other times it's the producer or the studio who is to blame. How many times do we have to suffer through the flavor of the week to realize the fallacy in that kind of thinking?  "Hey, let's get Hottie McHotness to be in this movie! People love her! It'll be huge!"

For the most part, actors look for work. They need to work to make money to pay for stuff. They want to do the best job possible so they can get more work. Until you get to be a Johnny Depp size star, you take what you can get and you aren't all that picky (I mean really, SyFy Channel Originals put a lot of actors to work). So the next time you see a really crappy movie cut the cast some slack. Besides, it's very possible to enjoy a terrible movie. Come on, who doesn't want Ghost Rider on DVD? Eva Mendez is hot, even in those atrocious clothes (Lizzy Gardiner) and the Ghost Rider effects are cool (SPI)!

I'll end with one exception. Two words: Green Hornet. In fact, it was this movie that got me all PO'd on this subject in the first place! I missed it when it was originally released and just got around to seeing it On Demand. When an actor is actually responsible for getting a project made and then makes most of the decisions, then he is absolutely to blame. He and the studio knuckleheads who bought into a bad idea. Just because someone has an idea, doesn't mean it a good one.*  Seth Rogan is totally to blame for what is one of the worst comic book adaptations of all time. He was a producer (okay, good property, could work), a writer (there wasn't a script to speak of so that's not good) AND the horribly miscast star (I mean really, shouldn't the Hornet be, I don't know, handsome?). Don't blame Jay Chou (Kato), he gave it his best shot. Tom Wilkinson was great for the limited screen time he had. Christoph Waltz made the best of terrible dialog. Cameron Diaz lifted every scene she was in. Oh, and don't blame my Facebook friend Jill Remez who got lots of camera time as one of the Sentinel Reporters. Rogan should have known better to cast himself and shirk on the script. His ego got in the way.

So there! Don't blame the actor -- unless the actor is also all the other guys, too.

Watkins, out. Curling up with some popcorn, Caffeine Free Diet Coke and the Special Edition DVD of Ishtar: The Director's Cut. Dustin Hoffman, right?


*More on that little notion in a later rant. Creativity is not learned nor is it just given to people in authority.

Wayne's Rules for Being a Great Boss

You are about to unlock the keys to being the best boss in the world. For free! That's right, you read that correctly. No, you can't buy these on TV. You don't have to buy the book or the DVD. Yes, they really are free. Best part? There's only FOUR of them. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. There is one catch, however. You must practice them and believe them, because I've got news for you -- they work.

I've had a few bosses in my day. Been a boss. too. What happens too often on our capitalistic, money and success oriented society (oops, starting to get a little preachy) is that if we are fortunate enough to make our way up whatever corporate ladder we happen to be climbing, we start to believe our hype. We start to believe that we actually deserve the praises and the raises. We start thinking that we are entitled to people carrying out our directions because, somehow, we have been anointed as "in charge."

I've got news for you, regardless of your training or your experience or your education, there are others that can do your job. Many others. I know, I know, you don't want to hear that. In fact, you may decide I'm so "full of it" that you stop reading this and surf on over to the Huffington Post or your fantasy football league. That's okay, I'll take that chance. A warning: As you read these, you WILL say to yourself, "That's not me," or "I don't do that." You do. You really do. If you are a boss, you break at least two of the rules below and probably more. Admit it, face yourself and agree to change your bad habits. You, and your staff, will feel better for it. Oh, yeah, and you'll all be more productive.

Okay, here we go. The four rules that will make you a GREAT BOSS.


#1 - Stop with the meetings. You have too many. Most meetings are totally non-productive, unorganized and serve only to piss off your staff for taking them away from their actual work. Your meetings are mostly your attempt to get yourself organized. Stop it right now. Meetings are not, or shouldn't be, a place for you to impress your staff with your authority and ability to move around the room with graceful aplomb by asking everyone for updates or status reports that either you already know about or can be shared in another way.

#2 - Don't use the big "Boss Words." You know what they are: "Accountability" and "Responsibility." Besides you are probably using them incorrectly anyway. When your staff hears you use these words, all they really understand is that you are going to blame them if something goes wrong. Responsibility can be shared, accountability cannot. If you create an environment of trust and respect where hard work and collaboration is encouraged and allowed to grow, those words will never have to come out of your mouth.

#3 - Refrain from the easy hires. Don't hire (or keep) someone just because they seem to agree with you on everything. Ass-kissers can't be trusted. You've got the job already. YOU are the boss. Hire people that can contribute something NEW to your staff, department or business. Hire a rebel. (NOTE: I didn't say hire an idiot.) Sure, It might be uncomfortable for a while. You might have to learn how to deal with a new way of looking at things. You can handle it.

#4 - Be willing to learn from your staff. You are not omnipotent. You don't know everything.  As much as you would like to believe you are better than everyone else because you are their supervisor, it just ain't true. You staff is smart. They do actually care about what they do 8 or 10 hours a day. Believe it or not, they probably know more about certain aspects of the business than you. Watch Undercover Boss sometime then tell me bosses know everything.  Oh, here's the kicker: You may think listening to your staff -- actually LISTENING and considering their input -- makes you look weak or stupid or unqualified. It doesn't.
There you go. Now you are on your own. Oh, and these rules work in any business. Whether your a movie director or a CEO of a widget factory. Let me know they work out for you.

Next Rant: Don't Blame the Actor. This is where I spout off about what makes makes a movie good or bad and why most critics don't know what they are talking about.

Free Advice to Non-Profits: You Ain't Doin' Enough!

     Throughout my career and in my current business (Dirigible) I have worked with a quite a few non-profits. Primarily, performing arts and sports groups, occasionally health-related causes or foundations. I have learned two things in my 10 years of working with non-for-profits.  
     Number One: Most Boards of Directors suck. If your first reaction to this statement is, "Oh, well, we have a great board," I want you to ask yourself two very simple questions. 1) Is each member of the board required to give or get "X" amount of dollars in donations? 2) Are all the board members actively involved in all other fund-raising efforts? If the answer is no to either (it will probably be no to both), your board needs an overhaul. Now! They suck.
     The typical response I get when I explain this to board members is always the same. "But, we volunteer our time to serve on the board. Our time is worth something." I've heard it a thousand times. Guess what? You aren't building a float for the Rose Parade. You aren't volunteering for a bake sale at the local hospital. You aren't handing out water at the local charity's 5K fun run. You are on the board of directors for an organization whose programs and mission depends on your efforts to raise money for and promote the organization in the community. If you can't do it without playing the my-time-is-more-important-than-anyone-else's-card, then don't serve on that board. Yes, you have other duties. Yes, there are other things that a board is responsible for. Yes, you probably have someone on staff who raises money, too. But it is part of your job to raise money. If your non-profit doesn't have money it doesn't exist. Period.
     Okay, I'm done on that subject. For now. But it is a serious issue and an all too common one. From large youth sports organizations down to small community theatre groups, this element of your board is hugely important and sorely neglected. Don't ignore it.
     The REAL purpose of today's rant is second on my "things I've learned" list. Drum roll, please. 
Number Two: You are not doing enough for your sponsors.
     I don't know if you've seen a newspaper the last couple of years, but the economy is kinda, how shall I put this nicely, messed up. If you are doing the same thing for your sponsors that you did last year and the year before -- you are going to loose them.
     There was a time when sponsors donated to organizations because they wanted to help out the cause and maybe get a little tax deduction. We'll give you 100 bucks and you put a business card size ad in the program. There we're a sponsor! Those days are over. The tax deduction ain't enough. You simply MUST provide some sort of marketing value through the sponsorship. There is too much competition for sponsorship dollars on every level. From the local community choir to the youth soccer league your kid plays in, every non-profit simply MUST get more creative in how they attract sponsors and how they treat them once they get their money. The days of making a phone call once a year to a local business and holding out your hand to collect the check? Over. An ad in the program and a link on your website IS NOT ENOUGH no matter how awesome you think your organization is.
     First thing you have to do is create levels of sponsorship. "Gold," Silver," "Bronze," whatever. Try to be inventive and have the levels be something related to the organization. Each level will have a variety of things the sponsor gets for donating at that level. This is called your sponsorship inventory. Put a price to each level and don't waiver. Your sponsors will want everything you've got, but they only get what they pay for. Plus, if one sponsor finds out that they paid more for a certain level than another sponsor did, you have trouble on your hands.
     Now, you may be thinking, "Wayne, we don't have any inventory. All we do is have a couple concerts every year." (Or, you are a youth sports team and all you do is play eight or 10 games per season.) I'm telling you right now, you have more than you think and there is even more you can create in order to have more things to sell. You may have tickets, programs, flyers, newsletters, press releases, stationery, business cards, t-shirts, a website, or social network sites that are all great places for sponsor recognition. Anything you print something on can be a place a sponsor might like exposure, whether it's a ticket or a program or hotel key card. If you do an interview with local TV or newspapers MENTION THE SPONSORS. If you send out a press release, put a small tag about your sponsors in the boilerplate (the About Us section).If you do any fund-raising events (I mean ANY.  Even a bake sale!) Invite your sponsors to have a presence either with a table (to hand out info) or to actually participate in the event. Whatever you are doing now -- do more. It is getting harder and harder out there to raise cash and your non-profit is not the only good cause in town.
     Final thing: Thank your sponsors. Not just the person who wrote the check, but the people who work for the person who wrote the check. Say it in a letter when the sponsor first comes on board, say it in person whenever you see people involved with the sponsor. While this may sound silly, but make sure your BOARD OF DIRECTORS knows who the sponsors are so THEY can thank them and talk about the sponsors in their circles. You do all this and your sponsors will continue to see the value in supporting YOU. If you lie down on the job, they'll go to the food bank or the ballet company or the charity down the street. It's that simple.

The Falacy of Non-Traditional Casting -- I think....

This is a tough one. Not so much a rant this time as it is a continuing mind-bender that, for me at least, has no solution and never will. It also comes with this caveat: I am a white male. The vast majority of parts written are written for guys like me. This we know.

When young actors are in training, be it in college or at an acting school, there is never any thought as to limiting what characters you may someday play onstage. We are schooled early on that actors are actors and should WANT to play all different kinds of roles not just those defined by the color of our skin or our gender. In fact, many of us seek out those roles that may not fit perfectly into a typical "type-casting" scenario. We are led to believe that young leading men can play old character parts if the make up is good enough. (I mean come on, Olivier's Othello? Nailed it!) We are trained to think that the amazingly talented African American in our Acting III class is certainly capable of playing Falstaff. (A little padding here, some stipple there, viola!) How many great men of the stage have tackled Lady Bracknell? (Answer: A bunch!)

Then we are sent off into the real world. The world of types; the world of TV; the world of the Peter Principle. For years I was cast in every Neil Simon comedy on the West Coast. I was Leo, George, Felix, Sydney, Paul, you name it I played the straight, white guy. ("Straight" as in not the funny one.) But my acting school days we're still fresh in my bones. I longed for the chance to play Shylock the Jew (you'd think all my Neil Simon roles would have qualified me!), Othello the Moor (Olivier wore black-face), Tony Montana (Oh, wait, he was Cuban. Does that count as white since Pacino played him?)

The trouble we run into is that some works of theatre, film and TV really do require a certain race or gender to be cast in certain roles. They just do. Max in Bent kinda HAS to be a white male. He just does. The whole point of Troy Maxson in Fences requires that an African American male take us on that journey. And here's the part that is hard for me to parcel: Color blind casting only goes one way. Which really means it's not really color blind. Seems kinda like affirmative action for actors. Now, I am NOT suggesting we do away with affirmative action. I'm just saying that with actors, with the theatre, with all things of a creative nature, it seems like it should be different conversation. It just seems like we shouldn't even be talking about it. Of course, we can mount an Asian version of a Tennessee Williams play; Of course, James Earl Jones can play King Lear; Of course, Lawrence Olivier can play Othello; Of course, Macbeth can have an integrated cast.

Let's face it, casting Shakespeare plays with multi-racial casts is old news. Adrian Lester is the latest in, relatively, short list of actors of color to successfully deliver the bard (http:d.pn/fNmsCS). Even the histories are less about the actual people of history as they are the bigger issues and themes that have resulted in the passage of time. It's when we start to approach non-Shakespearean classics and contemporary works (okay, basically everything NOT Shakespeare) that we seem to get wrapped around the axle.

I think the answer lies not in trying to force race and gender issues for their own sake, but to create more diverse properties in the first place. (Tyler Perry productions are not my cup of tea, but you have to admire the fact that he is writing and producing specific new material for black actors and a particular audience. Barring a floodgate of "diversity projects" all of a sudden getting green lighted in Hollywood or produced in regional theatres nothing will change, I fear.) If we can't do that then we just perpetuate the problem. In an opening night speech by Des McAnuff, the artistic director hit the nail on the head. And while he was talking about Canada, it remains true for us in the lower 48, "Ours is a multi-racial society ... If our audiences can’t find their own reflections on our stages, as Shakespeare’s audiences did on his, we cannot possibly claim to be speaking to Canadians [or society] today.

What if we didn't worry about "non-traditional" casting and just worried about "casting?" You know, acting school style.What if we were to cast our shows with the best actors that came to the audition? I know, I know, the wheels would fall off of Hollywood and dozens of agents would be unemployed and casting directors would actually have to learn something more about acting than shirt size and hair color. But what if?

Bottom line is this: Someday I would really like to peek into an audition and have no idea what was being cast. I'd like to see all kinds of shapes, sizes and colors. I would like what I learned in my acting classes to be true. I think, anyway... (Oh, and I'd really like to see Helen Mirren play Prospero. Wait, they did that already?)

Addendum: Here's another take that's pretty good, too. A short article by Phillip W. Chung.

Sport is Competitive, Acting is Not.

So, I'm eavesdropping on some actors in Santa Monica. Not intentionally, mind, but I'm always drawn to actors and their musings about what it takes to "make it" in the business. I find it rather comforting that the conversations haven't changed at all in the 30 years since I left acting school. Only the slang is different. [First, let me just go an a little mini-rant: Since when can out of work actors afford to eat at the Broadway Deli? I mean, come on, 12 bucks for breakfast? Whatever happened to the starving artist thing? What happened to endless coffee refills at Denny's? Charming the waitress at Dupar's for an extra egg? Instant oatmeal (that you swiped from your ex-who-is-still-your-roommate-cuz-you-can't-afford-to-move) and Folger's coffee? Okay, I'm done.]

Handsome Leading Man is talking to Quirky Character Guy about his latest audition. After a few common pleasantries - they obviously are best friends and see each other often - the chat starts something like this:

Handsome:    "Dude, I nailed it!" (Of course you did.)
Quirky:          "Maybe they already have someone in mind." (Of course they do.)
Handsome:    "Dude, I'm perfect for it. Gotta call [the agent] to see if she got any feedback." (She didn't.)
Quirky:          "What did the competition look like?" (This is where my ears got all tingly)
Handsome:    "Dude, it was insane! There were, like, 20 of me and another 20 of me only shorter."
Quirky:          "Dude."
Handsome:    "I know, right?"
Waiter:          "Okay, who's got the corned beef hash?"

In nature, there is competition galore. Competition for food, for water, for mates, for shelter. The winner in this primal contest is always measured by something tangible -- measurable. The strongest, the fastest, the biggest. In business, competition is defined in terms of price, quality, value. And in sport, competition is defined in even more specific and measurable terms: points, speed, strength, accuracy. Acting, indeed all of the arts, is not measurable by any real standard. In all acting, whether or not you are cast in a role has very little to do with how good an actor you are. It has very little to do with your training or your resume.When you go "head-to-head" with other actors for the same role, the best actor doesn't always win the part. The arts are defined by like-ability not talent. That is not measurable. (Please do not get me started on the latest catastrophe on Dancing With the Stars. That would totally prove my point, but I'm still too upset to talk about it. Brandy got robbed. It also seems that in a show called "Dancing With the Stars" one would have to do the former and be the latter. Bristol Palin doesn't and isn't. There. I feel better. For now.)

Casting people will deny this. The good ones will anyway. But it is true.

Poor actors. We spend so much of our lives auditioning and preparing to audition. While it's part of the job, it is not part of the craft. The pressure to do well at an audition is huge. Our very livelihood depends on it, to say nothing of our self-esteem. But after we spend years training, after we prepare countless monologues and songs, after we walk through those studio doors to face whoever is doing the casting -- none of that matters.In a matter of seconds and certainly before you open your mouth, the casting people have already come to some conclusions about you. Height, weight, skin color, demeanor, posture, too handsome, not pretty enough, boobs to small, feet too big, freckles, pasty, blond, brunette, glasses, the list goes on.

Imagine if American football were played like this: Both teams arrive at the stadium. Everyone warms up. Then the offense takes the field alone and runs a play that they feel would score a touchdown if they were actually playing a game. Then the other team comes out and does the same thing. The officials then confer and decide who they think would win the game. That's casting.

Some of the best actors I know have never made a movie or played on Broadway. They have banged around regional theatres, produced their own stuff in 35 seat member companies and mounted 5 person Shakespeare in bars. Some have thrown in the towel and left acting altogether. Not because they weren't talented. Not because they weren't well trained. Not because audiences didn't appreciate them.

Competing for a role. It's a common phrase. We use it all the time. Hell, I've used it before. If you Google it, I'm sure the media uses it all the time. And let's face it, the career of acting is beyond challenging, especially given the fact that, at any given moment, there are a finite number of roles available and hundreds (strike that, thousands) of actors out there vying for them. But the idea of competing for a role is a little misleading. To be honest, it's also unfair for any actor to believe that by shear quality of their audition they will win the "competition" for a part.

What all young actors must grapple with throughout there careers is that their life as an working actor is not entirely up to them. Sure, there's a bunch of things actors can do to increase their odds of being cast, but at the end of the day other people decide our fate. However, an actor's life as an artist IS in their control. Pursue your craft, study, learn, read, stay engaged...TRY. Be persistent and dedicated to what it is you have chosen to do with your life. Understand that. Nobody told you it would be easy.

"What do you do?"

My wife is an actress and an author, but like so many others she has a day job. She works for a university.

Academics are a strange lot. I'm not talking about the erstwhile fellow or part-time professor, I'm talking about the university MBA/PHD/EDD/BFD with tenure, a pension, and a office with an "Emeritus" name plate already engraved for them -- for when their colleagues deem them too old to stand up in class anymore. I'm talking the theatre professor who hasn't been on stage since the 60s and still directs his majors in the same plays year in and year out. The history prof who hasn't changed text books in twenty years. The communications prof who still believes everything can be explained by a pie chart. They think of the world -- no they live in a world totally devoid of the kinds of things regular people must involve themselves in. Change, for example. Risk and danger. Fear of failure. They define things. Pigeon-hole people. Believe that you believe the way they do without any discussion. (Yes, I'm generalizing. No letters, please.)

Recently, while at a campus event with my wife, I was introduced to a former "department chair." Dr. Somebody-or-Other." Very dapper older gentleman. Tweedy. Stereotypical Mr. Chips type -- only mean looking. He extended his hand, introduced himself and his credentials. I took his hand and replied with a, "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Blah-Blah-Blah. I'm Wayne Watkins." [Quick aside: Whenever I introduce myself, I always flash on the scene from Holiday Inn when Bing Crosby as Jim Hardy meets Marjorie Reynolds as struggling actress Linda Mason for the first time. Her line reading of, "I'm Linda Mason" is priceless.] His response was, "Uhm, yes, what do you do?"

But something in Dr. Whose-Its tone of voice offended me. Made me prickly. I was in a perfectly fine mood until then. It was as if no matter what my answer was going to be, it wasn't going to be as important or as meaningful as what he did. What did he mean "What do you do?" And what exactly does he do anyway? I do lots of shit! What's it too you? Oh, and by the way, bow-ties only look cool on Dr. Who and George Will! Crap. I fell for it hook line and sinker.
What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? I've heard and, indeed, been asked that question a thousand times in my life. No, two thousand. Invariably, I have always answered it with whatever it is that is occupying the majority of my time at that moment. "I'm an actor" or "I'm in the music industry" or "I'm an Artistic Director" or "I'm between engagements at the moment." No biggie? No, biggie!

When I was a young actor, Don Richardson made us read all kinds of non-acting related books. [I really should say "non-theatre related" books. As it turned out, everything is related to acting. Everything.] A series of books by Robert Audrey were particularly important to me as both a young actor and as a 20-something entering the real world of work and money and survival. One book, The Territorial Imperative, remains on my suggested reading list for my acting students. The book begins, "A territory is an area of space, whether of water or earth or air, which an animal or group of animals defends as an exclusive preserve. The word is also used to describe the inward compulsion in animate beings to possess and defend such a space. A territorial species of animals, therefore, is one in which all males, and sometimes females too, bear an inherent drive to gain and defend an exclusive property."

My new friend, this "academic," guards his territory with a vengeance. Unlike most regular folks who shuck and jive and bob and weave through life, the academic has a very well defined world laid out before him. teaches the same classes to different faces. Does one thing and defines his existence by the letters after his name and tries to do the same to give order to the rest of the world. But my world and his are light-years apart. Same planet, different universes. In my world, there is no line in the sand dividing my experiences with my knowledge. To paraphrase a line from Mamet's "A Life In the Theatre," Everything you do is a part of your life. From grocery shopping to scraping gum of your shoe. From the mundane to the dangerous. Your whole life is made up of everything and everyone you have ever seen, touched, felt, known, experienced. So to be asked, "What do you do," is no less than an invitation to tell your life story.

Now, I feel confident Dr. Doo-Dad didn't really want to know my life story. I was in his building, he was the Alpha Dog and he simply wanted me to know that. He didn't care all that much about me either way -- he was just being "polite." Perhaps he really wanted to know where I worked. As in, "What do you do for money?" Guess I should cut Dr. Bow Tie a little slack.

But, I must say, I think my answer will change now and forever. What do I do? I do lots of shit...and so do you.