Club Her!

We have an extremely stupid Producer. Which I suppose isn't terribly unusual. What is unusual is her shiny, plastic face, and the perma-grin plastered on it that makes her look like The Joker. It's pretty unsettling when someone speaks to you through a smile even when they're pissed.

Today The Joker is on my last nerve. Not only because she is stupid, which is reason enough, but because she's answering all of my (time-sensitive) questions with more questions. I asked her to approve the "look" of a venue on the East Coast. She responded with copious questions about logistics. Okay lady, so here's what I want to know when I ask you to weigh in on the "look" of a venue: I want to know WHAT YOU THINK OF THE "LOOK" of that venue. I do not want you to weigh in on logistics and ask nit-picky questions that fall under my purvue. I will ask them as soon as you TELL ME WHETHER YOU LIKE THE LOOK.

You are aesthetics. I am logistics. Please get your shit together.

That being said...just now, I forced myself to become calm. I am trying to employ my (ever evolving) plan to be the bigger person and get things accomplished. I achieved calm collection despite The Joker's suggestion I could find more options by searching nearby cities (thanks for the revelation - you are a genius! There are cities in Connecticut other than Bridgeport?? I just fell off the turnip truck yesterday and didn't realize...). I bit the inside of my cheek and simply said "thank you, I'll take a look."

Then I prayed to all the Gods in heaven, past and present, she would walk away before I punched her in her crazy plastic grill. She did not. She just continued, "oh...wait, when we were out there scouting last week, the people (The people? Which people??) were telling us about a nearby theatre that would be perfect! They said it was only a city away...in...what was it? Stafford? Yes, Stafford! You know, like Stafford on Avon--"

"--it's Stratford. On Avon. STRATFORD." ("you dumb bitch" is what I wanted to add...but I held the line on my calmness) Look, if you're going to reach for a historical/geographical reference, at least know what the hell you're talking about. Read your Shakespeare, or opt out of making references all together.

By far, most irritating is her knack for instructing me to do the most obvious fucking things ever. I mean honestly, it's conversations that border on absurd. It wouldn't surprise me in the least to hear her say, "Um, you know what you should do? You should put pants on in the morning before you go to the shoot. You know, the kind with two legs? I'm very concerned about pants right now because if someone were to show up without them it would be very embarrassing. Alex? Hey Alex? Have you told the crew to wear pants? Should we send an email? What if somebody doesn't wear them?"

Ugh. I could club her.