"Welcome to the Bruce Campbell autograph signing! Disobey the rules I shouted to you earlier at your peril!"
Photo courtesy of Mr. M, whose mad shutterbug skills are legendary. Thanks, dude!
So, here's a typical day for me during the run of the show. Please note that this is a general description covering what I do for every show, and not limited to any particular guest.
- Woke up. It's around 6 a.m.
- Consult schedule book.
- Do yoga. (Skip the yoga and be dead by 1 p.m. I learned this the hard way.)
- Ate breakfast. Liberated an extra banana or two from the buffet for later.
- Fetched guest. Pray the guest didn't schedule something I don't know about after I left them the night before. If s/he did, consult schedule book and figure out a way to make it work.
- Fetched Elite. (These are the security guards, the guys and gals in red shirts, and God bless 'em for the thankless duty they perform. I LOVE my Elite guys.)
- Dragged guest around convention center for hours.
- Found scant free moments to flee to the patio and suck down nicotine. Aaaahh. Nicotine.
- Yelled at fans. (Not out of anger, but because if I don't yell, the 900 or so people standing in line hoping for an autograph will not hear me. If all of them hope to get at least one or two autographs, they need to be able to hear me so they can Obey the rules I've given them. Without Volume, the hordes on the exhibit floor will not get out of your way when you and the guest are coming through for a booth appearance.)
- Took a moment to thank the Lord for Terri, mistress of the exhibit floor.
- If it's Friday, try to figure out when I can get away to shower and change for the Eisners. If I'm not going to the Eisners due to issues of Scheduling or Tired, remember not to answer the cell around the time Vicki will call asking what time I'm going to be at the Eisners to help, then feel guilty.
- Answered a ton of phone calls related to guest activities.
- Made a ton of phone calls related to guest activities.
- Wave at my friends while zipping past them.
- Realize the guest last ate at around sunrise, and there is no obvious break for lunch between now and the five hours of autographs and three hours of panels guest has scheduled before his dinner meeting. Hope guest doesn't notice this as a fellow worker bee is dispatched to get guest food.
- Say "No" a lot.
- No, I will not tell you where he's staying.
- No, he does not have time for an interview. All of the interviews he's doing were set up in advance through his publisher or publicist.
- No, I've never heard of your 'zine/website/news blog.
- No, being a friend of (insert high profile actual comics reporter or con staffer here) will not change my answer to Yes.
- No, just because he's talking to Variety doesn't mean he has time to talk to you.
- No, I cannot obtain an autograph for you.
- No, I cannot get you into any parties.
- Mused upon why some of the people with a press ribbon - representing outlets such as ILike ComicsDotCom - seem to truly think they are on the same level as reporters from Variety, The Beat, the Hollywood Reporter, the Union Tribune, Publisher's Weekly and the LA Times. For one, reporters from all of those outlets usually set up interviews in advance. For another, reporters from those outlets don't turn around and ask if you can get them an autograph or a sketch after you've told them they're not getting an interview. (For the record, there is no website called ILikeComicsDotCom. That's just my shorthand for the attitude exhibited by a certain subset of con press.)
- Get annoyed at the number of ILikeComicsDotCom press people who think they can just flash their press ribbon and cut in front of the line.
- Get amused when the above become petulant when you order them to stop and wave your Elite guy over for backup when they get highly prissy about it.
- Wonder why so many of the petulant ones also have British accents. All of the European reporters I know are tough fuckin' bunnies. Then again, all of those guys work for legitimate news outlets.
- Resist the urge to answer the question Do You Know What This Press Ribbon Means thusly: "Why yes, I DO know what a press credential means. I myself was press for 13 years. At my last job I had a column that was read by 85,000 people weekly. I worked for outlets with circulations topping 500,000, where I churned out two to three stories daily. I still get nice letters from former readers who have tracked me down. Just yesterday, while cramming down breakfast at Cafe 222, I was approached by a former reader who wanted to tell me how much he misses my column. Last week I was acosted in a grocery store by another former reader. So I do know what a credential for ACTUAL press is. And you know what? YOU AIN'T IT."
- Pondered what the actual criteria are to obtain a press ribbon at the show. Make a note to talk to the Dark Lord of the Press Desk about this.
- Liberated an extra lunch from the Autograph Area and snuck Dove bars from the programming office. (Only to find out later that I didn't have to sneak the Dove bars.)
- Make calls to cancel plans with friends. If they get upset, Remind them that this happens every year and they should be used to it by now. If they instead just laugh at me since they already figured I wasn't going to show up, give them air kisses over the phone and make plans to meet when the show is over. But not before bitching at them for making con lunch plans since they very well know I can't leave the center during show hours. Listen to their mocking laughter for a moment before hanging up.
- Dragged guest around to their night events for hours, or arranged for their dragging around by others.
- Continue to be amazed that the guest not only survives the glorious chaos that is con, but usually does so with kindness, aplomb and much humor. (I've got to say, all of the guests I've wrangled have been incredible. Often, the guests work harder than we do. Think it's easy to sign so many autographs, answer the same question over and again, or not break when a devoted fan bursts into tears in front of you? I learn a lot just watching how these creators handle the show and all of the people who want bits of them.)
- If necessary, apologize to people whom I stomped over during the zealous execution of my duties. (This year I did good! I only had to apologize to one person/company. I actually apologized twice, the second time with a French apple pie, in hopes they'd see I really meant it.)
- Intend to go out drinking/partying/dinner but eat the sandwich liberated from the AA for dinner and collapse in bed instead.
- Wake up to set the alarm. Go back to sleep.
To me, this is loads of fun! Really. I LOVE it and I feel quite pleased if my guest gets to the end of the show alive and in good cheer. Believe me, my job is nothing compared to my peers in programming, media, the newsletter and, God help them, the exhibit hall minders. I've sometimes felt that the staff and volunteers are in many ways More Geek than any fan visiting the show. Only an Uber Geek would put in as much time and effort as needed to make sure the tribe has a place to gather each year. Perhaps the only things that sets us apart from our Geek peers are our organizational skills and willingness/ability to do the work.
Volunteering for a con is great. If you've ever thought about it, go for it. There are jobs available to suit every temperment and skill level. I really enjoy the people I work with at the show. You will, too. Probably. You know, if you're not a jerk or anything.
At least this year I didn't have to contend with a broken toe. I did have a bit of knee trouble from the car accident, but the painkillers and a bit of useful advice from Herbert Jefferson, Jr. ("Boomer" in the original Battlestar) took care of that. Thanks, Herbert!
Some years I get a guest with a heavy schedule, and some years one with a light schedule. If I get one with a light schedule, that means I'll have time to troll the exhibit hall and shop. If I don't, then I simply try to keep track of the books I want and order them later through my shop or directly from the publisher.
And yes, I wear suits or jackets when doing my duty for show. I find it makes it that much easier to quickly seize the Command and Authority I need to effectively wrangle my fellow fans roiling in their T-shirts as they ache to get at my guest. It's just like Eddie Izzard said - 70% of it is how you look. Of course this means a few times over the years people have tried to give me their book proposals while I'm watching over my guest at a booth (that's happened twice at the DC booth and once at the Dark Horse booth), and several times each year people ask me if I'm the publicist or agent for the guest I'm watching over. The answer to that is No. If this sort of thing were my day job, I certainly wouldn't spend my vacation doing it.
The title of this post comes from what several other worker bees told me they started calling Campbell after his magnificent performance in the hall that seats 3,000+ people. It was the first time ever any guest had attempted something like that in a room that size, and it was BEAUTIFUL, baby! He repeated this approach at nearly all of his other panels, including one that was in Hall Hell, which seats 6,500 people. All hail the king.
Thank you Mary for your advice. Originally this post was just going to be a picture. So if I'm now in trouble? IT'S MARY'S FAULT. SHE MADE ME DO IT.
Sir P, Mr. M and BGF geeking it out on the floor. You can't take us anywhere.
Posted by: Pam | 07/29/2005 at 03:58 PM
Posted by: Pam | 07/29/2005 at 03:56 PM
Posted by: Maryelizabeth | 07/29/2005 at 09:46 AM
Posted by: Mary | 07/29/2005 at 12:41 AM
Posted by: Pam | 07/28/2005 at 11:10 AM
Posted by: Jeff | 07/28/2005 at 09:42 AM
Posted by: Maryelizabeth | 07/28/2005 at 08:14 AM