Behind the Scenes of a Bitter Teenage Stage Manager
What a big mouth she had. I was the student leader and everyone came to me up to me if they had any difficulties with anything. Hell, some even looked up to me and appeared to enjoy my company. But, the second she set foot on that stage, things changed forever. She wanted all the attention – someone who didn’t even know how to use a damn drill; granted, I know a year prior to this neither did I. There was only one way she knew how to get this attention and that was to humiliate me. Something nobody had dared do before.
Why would someone even try to go head to head with someone who loses his temper instantaneously? She had made me up to be a fool of sorts who really didn’t have anything going for him, and the sad thing was, she was right. The day I met her, I swear I wanted to rip that head off her fucking shoulders so she would just shut the hell up. Not only was she saying what an ass I was and everything, she played with my fucking mind by using flirting as a weapon as well which really bothered me. She would say things like “I’m only saying that so I can get closer to you.” Urghhhhhhhhhhh! Why did she have to be playing with my mind so? There was never a time more that I really wanted to strangle someone and clog their pipes into suffocation. I could not stand her. She just wouldn’t ever fucking shut up.
Still, I enjoyed stage crew, maybe because in stage crew I could take all my negative energy and let it out whether it was with a drill, saw or just flat out screaming at others. Another reason, like I said before was because I thought everybody liked me.
After that initial day, we continued our battle for many weeks, and let me tell you it was complete warfare between the both of us. Neither one of us would let down our relentless assault against the other; the reasoning behind this simply was because neither of us really liked not being the center of attention and in control which is hard when you have to work with each other. Yes, I did actually teach her things, for I still had to make the crew as good as it could be even if that meant that I had to spend more time with her. However, I still go the nerve to make derogatory comments towards her constantly; in my mind, though, at that point, I actually didn’t realize I was being so cruel. I actually thought when I was saying those things, that I was being funny and sarcastic. Obviously, that wasn’t the case.
Many more weeks passed by and the deeper into the production of the set it got, the more we or at least I had become more filled with hate towards someone than ever; I decided that if I pushed her buttons hard enough, I could get her to quit. This way, I didn’t have to compete for attention anymore; I would be the center of attention once again. Little did I know though that it wouldn’t turn out that way.
The moment in time that things truly changed forever occurred late one March night, about a couple of weeks before the musical we were working on, Crazy for You began its performances. I was working on some braces on one of the platforms I believe, frustrated. I could not seem to put pressure on the thin triangle of wood on and screw it in at the same time. Almost everybody had gone, for it was late, about 9:30 at night. Everyone that is with the exception of her, for a while I tried my hardest to finish the bracing but I knew it was only a matter of time before I put my hand through that triangle. So, I did the one thing I didn’t want to do. I asked her to assist me. Not to my dismay, she had a disgusted/ confused look upon her face. “Why would he want my help,” she must have been asking herself. After a few moments of contemplation though, she decided to come over. She placed her knees hard upon the ground, so she could get enough leverage to support the structure while I placed a screw on the tip of the drill. I was debating exactly where I wanted to place the screw as she was looking wearily at me, scared that I was going to ridicule her; however, I didn’t. I think the exhaustion that my body was in, caused me at least for that point in time, not to do so. Anyways, I set a place and began drilling and everything was going great until I slipped.
“Goddamn, piece of shit!” I yelled out. This resulted in me yelling out many expletives. She stayed there for a moment even though her face had now developed a frightened look. Then, I said those evil, vile hurtful words. “Why couldn’t you support it more than that you fucking bitch?!” She ran off as one would assume she would. The two adults there, Brian and Sly who were talking to each other at the time, asked her where she was going. “Simon hates me,” she said.
It was at this very point in time that everything came into perspective for me. She wasn’t this “bitch” that I proclaimed she was who was trying to make my life a living hell. I had become an evil human being filled with hate that nobody could stand. Another thing I realized, the true reason why I couldn’t stand her is that she was everything I wanted to be. She was funny, outgoing and everyone liked her. I, on the other hand, was a self-loathing asshole who only knew how to ridicule others.
These years of cruelty that I had experienced from my peers were not completely innocent. After realizing from her, who I was, I finally realized that I had turned into those people that had ridiculed me through all the many years of growing up. Maybe that’s what I needed, a good kick in the ass to show me who I had become, instead of blaming the rest of the world for how horrid my life was. Maybe, just maybe, in stage crew I wasn’t really respected at all but feared, something I could never imagine, but I guess now, it makes sense. I felt terrible and knew that at this point, I needed to bring change to my life. However, before I could do that, there was one thing I had to do; I had to apologize to her for everything I had done and while it took many weeks for us to bury the hatchet, we eventually came to an understanding and after that rocky month and a half, we became great friends that some said we became too good of friends.
