Friday 5 September 2008

Not Without My Filing Cabinets

Because of the re-structure our team is being moved again. I've been here two years and this is my third move in that time. Sigh. Not to mention that I will lose my harbour views; albeit slightly obstructed by the Deutche Bank and Westpac buildings. We moved to this floor about 14 months ago and I have really taken the views for granted. It has been most pleasant to come in of a morning, munch on my porridge and look out on the boats bobbing up and down on the harbour; although not today where the only thing bobbing are droplets on my window pane; yes rain and fog……just in time for the weekend. Sigh again. We are being moved out of this building completely to another building a block away. Basically the organisation has outgrown the current premises and until the new premises is completed by 2010, staff are spread throughout three different buildings. And my team has appeared to score the rotten egg; we are being moved to a shopping centre. We inspected the office earlier this week and it is open/open plan. No one has an office ….which I can't stand and the work stations are built for persons who are size zero. The décor and interior design is straight out of turn of the century Ikea with everything stark white except for the carpet which is fluoro lime green. It will be like working in a glass of Midori. There is also no storage space. I've already had an argument with the Removals Manager, who insists that we are not allowed to take anything from our current offices. I have a large number of files, which are stored in three considerably sized filing cabinets in my office. I need my files close by and as a result, I need these filing cabinets to come with me. The Removals Manager seems to think that having my files stored in the vicinity of Eastern Europe will suffice. She has suggested that my files be stored in the basement of this building, which I remind you, is essentially a shopping centre. I will be going to collect my files whilst Coles is delivering their fresh fruit and veges. That would be handy I guess; I could do my grocery shopping at the same time.

I did my first theatresports show last night in four months in the new theatreports venue which is a pub in Glebe. I was so rusty. In the warm up before we did the show, I seemed to be incapable of speaking or understanding English. Firstly we did the warm up in the back beer garden of the hotel where there was Spice Girls music blaring constantly through the speakers. I couldn't hear anyone speak and was quite stunned that such music was still played in overtly straight venues. To add to this strange distraction, I was then paired with Mr Hot Guy. Tall, chunky, big hands, big nose; he had that whole Vince Vaughn slapstick thing going on. He was funny, cocky and hot. My confidence packed its bags and left me immediately. Of course we were first up to play a warm-up game. Mr Hot Guy started the game and in response I became Jodie Foster in Nell making strange noises; not really the intended outcome of the game. My friends Jess, Em and Jack (also playing) just looked at me with that stark familiarity of "I know you but please forgive me if I don't acknowledge you in public anymore." The warm up games continued participants easing in and out of witty offers and cheeky responses while I lay in consonant constipation attempting to find the connection between my tongue and my brain. Unfortunately it had left when it saw confidence walk out the door. I was now absolutely the loser of the group; the remedial kid; the kid who no one wants on their ball team; the kid whose parents are called by the teacher to discuss his delayed progress; the kid who takes his mother to the formal. That was me; anyone who was forced to play with me viewed me as nothing more than a tax deduction. All I needed was a change box wedged to my forehead and I could have collected for the guide dogs.

After the warm up, we had to be broken up into three teams. At this point I wanted to pretend to develop a brain tumour, apologise for my sudden withdrawal and quietly leave. But I was still in the midst of lingual paralysis and thus couldn't beg pardon. I remained and was placed in the Green team thankfully with my friends Jack and Jess and another more experienced theatresporter (lets call him ET) who hadn't washed his hair since the war…..am not sure which one. ET was actually on two teams: both the red and the green teams as one theatresporter had failed to show. ET didn't seem that impressed with us Greens and quickly bedded down with the Reds. I of course attributed such a manoeuvre to me being the theatresports equivalent of Mr Stinky.

Our first challenge as the Green Team was the game Death in A Minute which was quite apt actually considering I did want to die. The title of the scene was Parent Teacher Interviews and within a minute, one of the characters must die. Jack and I immediately entered the scene; Jack assumed the role of the teacher, I assumed the role of the parent and we were to discuss my son Roger. Jack indicated that Roger was quite violent having hit him on several occasions. He said that this must stop. I agreed it was a problem but perhaps he was over-reacting. I at first was simply relieved that I could speak English and interact with another human being. We continued the scene where I admitted that I fed my son Roger speed and perhaps this was leading him to be somewhat violent. Jess then entered the scene as the hyperactive speed inflicted son Roger. She was hilarious ……kind of like a chiwawa on crack. In awe of her comic genius, I then momentarily developed lingual paralysis again. Jack and Jess continued to interact and Jess as Roger died within the minute. We survived the first game….no thanks to ET who didn't assist at all….but strangely assisted the Red team. Mmmmmmm.

Our second challenge involved the game Emotional Replay which is one of my favourite games. It requires the team to replay a normal scene with three different emotions. In this scene, we were at dog training school and we were to replay the scenes with fear, anger and ecstasy…..sounded like an average night out for me. I assumed the role of dog owner, Jack assumed the role of the dog and Jess, the role of the dog trainer. Well apart from taking method acting to a whole new level where I actually thought Jack was my dog and yanked the hood of his jacket so much that I almost broke his back, we did a fantastic scene and scored our highest points for the evening. Jack now walks a bit funny. ET remained absent yet again. In fact ET remained generally absent for the rest of our challenges except the last one, which was in fact our worst scene. It involved each participant speaking with a limited number of words. ET put his hand up for three words, Jack got one word, Jess got six words and I was the sucker who got 13 words. It was a complete nightmare; I ended up being a doctor in India who chops the arm of a servant off after it was mauled by a slightly violent white elephant. It was weird and it didn't work.

I did feel somewhat better by the end of the night and thought that I had restored some form of dignity after my Nell impersonations earlier on; not that Mr Hot Guy noticed; he was too busy re-arranging furniture at the end of the performance to care…..perhaps I should have invited him over to move my filing cabinets.

3 comments:

Monty said...

Sounds like a hilarious night! Shame Mr Hot didn't appreciate you! :-(

Anonymous said...

lol Nell impersonations are TOTALLY hilarious.... Chickabee!

FireHorse said...

TVS (uhf31) broadcast the Melbourne programme Theatre Games Live on Thursdays at 9.30pm and Saturday night (Sunday really) at 00:30.

http://www.theatregameslive.com/home.html