Now that the Writers Strike is over, any idea of the struggle to be creative in Hollywood quickly fades from the public eye. It gave many idiots the chance to say that the TV shows or movies were poorly written in the first place, and that writers weren't missed. The only good stories were told many, many years ago, or worse, these people expressing opinions over the Internet hardly ever watched TV (which made their opinions about TV in the first place totally invalid). The first thing I can tell you is that the strike isn't really over yet. True, writers, producers, and actors are no longer walking the picket lines, but right now they're going over the latest contract they got from the AMPTP, and consensus is that it's definitely less than what it should be. I won't go into details, but there is still a tricky wording of the contract that needs to be navigated and debated. Do you ever read the small print in things you sign? You might be surprised if you did.
But that's Hollywood, the industry versus itself - the business of Hollywood versus the ideas of Hollywood - and it tends to believe people are expendable. It will exercise this belief from the top down to the smallest corner, many variations on the theme of short term gain for profit. It's practiced in the small theaters and acting schools, in the high profile dealing of organizations representing guilds, and unfortunately, there's more on the way. There is an ongoing debate right now in the Screen Actors Guild over the upcoming contract negotiations, and which of the members should be allowed to vote on the new contract. Obviously, if you pay dues you should be able to vote, but there are some in the guild who don't agree. From the top down, it's an embarrassing overture of narcissism, and the business might be focusing a little too much on "more".
But that's Hollywood, the industry versus itself - the business of Hollywood versus the ideas of Hollywood - and it tends to believe people are expendable. It will exercise this belief from the top down to the smallest corner, many variations on the theme of short term gain for profit. It's practiced in the small theaters and acting schools, in the high profile dealing of organizations representing guilds, and unfortunately, there's more on the way. There is an ongoing debate right now in the Screen Actors Guild over the upcoming contract negotiations, and which of the members should be allowed to vote on the new contract. Obviously, if you pay dues you should be able to vote, but there are some in the guild who don't agree. From the top down, it's an embarrassing overture of narcissism, and the business might be focusing a little too much on "more".
While business looks at the bottom line, it's very easy to lose sight of the sacrifices people make when they choose a creative life, whether it's writing, acting, or whatever it is that requires practice, training, a commitment that takes away from other things in life...other, sometimes important things. The view from where I stand is of people busy doing, constantly creating and looking for opportunities. My friends, many of whom are actors, are perpetually working on films, plays, and auditioning for TV. They will work crew on other friends' films, keep returning to classes they can barely afford if not for the occasional day job or paying acting jobs. These people keep returning to an industry that keeps rejecting them, but despite these crazy priorities, including living a life with low pay and a constant hustle for work, there are still a lot of writers and actors out there, and they need their guilds.
On the other hand...business in general seems to have a similar lack of conscience. A few days ago, I received an email from some former coworkers, the next ones on the chopping block schedule for the extended mix of reduction in force. There's a get-together on their last day at the local restaurant/bar, and they were inviting me. I immediately went right back to the unfairness of the process, of previous layoffs where my friends were sniped from the ranks, where I was asked to dig my own grave and then afterwards endured the enlightenment of seeing who my remaining friends really were. Do I really want to go back there for a visit? I think, maybe, I already said goodbye. Over the years, I was known for writing monthly newsletters, and this was the last one I sent, after I was let go. In hindsight, I guess the most consistent thing about me is that I've always focused on people who struggle, who believe in ideas over profit. Someday I hope to be able to talk to both sides and bring them together. Enough already. Here's what I called "The Final Newsletter":
Greetings former colleagues, close friends, and...well, those of you still at the old Blackjack (the nickname I gave 21st). I didn't want to end my newsletters like...Laverne & Shirley (they had no final episode) or...well, that was a bad example. I didn't really have a whole lot of time to write on my way out, nor did I remember to include my email address, which would have been nice. Nobody could blame me, huh? All of a sudden, I was both Papillon and Neo from the Matrix, and I'm making one quick appearance to finish things off right.
The Tribe Has Spoken
This whole thing has been a surprise to many people, but not to me so much, because I've been through this before. I just wasn't as close to people back then as I was this time around, but I'll tell you two things: 1) I'm sure we'll be BFF, and that we'll keep in touch, and 2) Hey, there IS life after being pooped out by the auto insurance industry, and it's pretty awesome. Sure, John Edwards speaks to the dead, but I can offer the same advice he gives. Those who have crossed over don't really have any ill will over the circumstances that got us here. We're in a good place. We went towards the light and are doing well. We just hope you're surviving and are able to enjoy each other with the time you have together. That is what our bond was when we were amongst you, so I sincerely hope you keep up the tradition. Honestly, there's no resentment towards anyone or anything, only enlightenment in some cases, and relief.
Connectivity
First of all, I have to give you what I didn't give you before. My email address is: sjirel@gmail.com. Use it wisely. Or not. Up to you, entirely. Also, as long as we have the net, we always have a way to keep in touch, don't we? You know I have multiple websites and am busy at this very moment with outplacement and this exciting job search. I want to keep in touch and invite you to do the same. Who knows where we'll be in a year? I hope to send you an update soon to let you know where I land, but I also wish this kind of "upturning of the soil" for you, a chance to really see who you are and what you're truly worth. The main thing that I learned throughout the classes I've taken recently and seeing friends go through the whole adjustment period (Klaus, Yvonne, Hagay) is that I wish I had gotten myself organized much earlier. I had a decent resume. Now my resume is sexy. I had a cover letter and a couple of websites I could submit to, and now I've got a whole networking plan and some solid stuff to work with. It's great to be pushed out of the nest to discover you can fly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So that's it, gang, the last in a short history of long emails sent to you to let you know that I can hear you breathing in those cubicles and offices, and that you're not forgotten. This has been a great experience for me, and I'll do everything I can to avoid flipping burgers. You're all in my thoughts, and I really do wish the best for you. You made my time at the wrong job completely worth the time I spent there, and I won't forget you for it. Okay, honestly, some details will become fuzzy over time and should we meet again, I might use the wrong name. Don't take it personally. My brain is only so big. Take care of yourselves, and be good people.
Your friend always,
Stewart
Here's one last quote for you:
"And that's the world in a nutshell, an appropriate receptacle."
~ Stan Dunn
On the other hand...business in general seems to have a similar lack of conscience. A few days ago, I received an email from some former coworkers, the next ones on the chopping block schedule for the extended mix of reduction in force. There's a get-together on their last day at the local restaurant/bar, and they were inviting me. I immediately went right back to the unfairness of the process, of previous layoffs where my friends were sniped from the ranks, where I was asked to dig my own grave and then afterwards endured the enlightenment of seeing who my remaining friends really were. Do I really want to go back there for a visit? I think, maybe, I already said goodbye. Over the years, I was known for writing monthly newsletters, and this was the last one I sent, after I was let go. In hindsight, I guess the most consistent thing about me is that I've always focused on people who struggle, who believe in ideas over profit. Someday I hope to be able to talk to both sides and bring them together. Enough already. Here's what I called "The Final Newsletter":
Greetings former colleagues, close friends, and...well, those of you still at the old Blackjack (the nickname I gave 21st). I didn't want to end my newsletters like...Laverne & Shirley (they had no final episode) or...well, that was a bad example. I didn't really have a whole lot of time to write on my way out, nor did I remember to include my email address, which would have been nice. Nobody could blame me, huh? All of a sudden, I was both Papillon and Neo from the Matrix, and I'm making one quick appearance to finish things off right.
The Tribe Has Spoken
This whole thing has been a surprise to many people, but not to me so much, because I've been through this before. I just wasn't as close to people back then as I was this time around, but I'll tell you two things: 1) I'm sure we'll be BFF, and that we'll keep in touch, and 2) Hey, there IS life after being pooped out by the auto insurance industry, and it's pretty awesome. Sure, John Edwards speaks to the dead, but I can offer the same advice he gives. Those who have crossed over don't really have any ill will over the circumstances that got us here. We're in a good place. We went towards the light and are doing well. We just hope you're surviving and are able to enjoy each other with the time you have together. That is what our bond was when we were amongst you, so I sincerely hope you keep up the tradition. Honestly, there's no resentment towards anyone or anything, only enlightenment in some cases, and relief.
Connectivity
First of all, I have to give you what I didn't give you before. My email address is: sjirel@gmail.com. Use it wisely. Or not. Up to you, entirely. Also, as long as we have the net, we always have a way to keep in touch, don't we? You know I have multiple websites and am busy at this very moment with outplacement and this exciting job search. I want to keep in touch and invite you to do the same. Who knows where we'll be in a year? I hope to send you an update soon to let you know where I land, but I also wish this kind of "upturning of the soil" for you, a chance to really see who you are and what you're truly worth. The main thing that I learned throughout the classes I've taken recently and seeing friends go through the whole adjustment period (Klaus, Yvonne, Hagay) is that I wish I had gotten myself organized much earlier. I had a decent resume. Now my resume is sexy. I had a cover letter and a couple of websites I could submit to, and now I've got a whole networking plan and some solid stuff to work with. It's great to be pushed out of the nest to discover you can fly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So that's it, gang, the last in a short history of long emails sent to you to let you know that I can hear you breathing in those cubicles and offices, and that you're not forgotten. This has been a great experience for me, and I'll do everything I can to avoid flipping burgers. You're all in my thoughts, and I really do wish the best for you. You made my time at the wrong job completely worth the time I spent there, and I won't forget you for it. Okay, honestly, some details will become fuzzy over time and should we meet again, I might use the wrong name. Don't take it personally. My brain is only so big. Take care of yourselves, and be good people.
Your friend always,
Stewart
Here's one last quote for you:
"And that's the world in a nutshell, an appropriate receptacle."
~ Stan Dunn
No comments:
Post a Comment