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MY FURRY TALES--STORIES FROM 25 YEARS IN THE FUR #17
12 years ago
Notes by a white lion.
“The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” Part one of two.
(Or, it’s because of you we can’t have nice lives.)
Every character performer who makes this a career, or even those that might do it as a summer job as well, but for them to a much lesser extent, all of us know that it isn’t all sunshine and roses all the time. There will be a “party from Hell” you will have the sad misfortune of experiencing and the question only is when. This story I’m about to tell is mine. The story that will be told in part two is what you might call “the after party from Hell”. I shall explain.
First off, let me tell you that stereotypes, no matter what they are or who they involve are usually quite true and that is WHY they’re stereotypes as they are true. One stereotype that applies here in this incident is that money, even much money, education, even much education, doesn’t buy you one gram of “smarts”. Please trust me and believe me, there are rich “dim bulbs” as there are poor ones.
I am assigned to do a two-year-old girl’s birthday party in the Hollywood hills. It’s in a gated community off of Mulholland Drive and if you know the Southern California area, that means wealth. I find out after the fact that both husband and wife are lawyers and that this community is only of million dollar plus homes. And hey, based on what I saw while within it, make those mansions not ordinary homes.
As far as what started the sad incident, that was something that is, so sadly, very common itself. The world of TV kids is not and never was true reality, but so many parents must think that it is. This covers a lot of territory here, from character abilities, to sound and voice, the excitement and participation of the children, and last but not least, the virtual love and “approval” of the character. TV kids are actors and they are paid to be happy and exuberant, the TV characters at the very least have suits that are much more sophisticated than what can come to a home party and most of the time their voices are done in a separate voice over or by a off-stage vocal performer. “The guy in the suit”, in this case, IS just a guy in the suit.
The concerns here, in this case, are two. One, that the child, at two, is truly too young and two is just about the worst age for a clown or a character to have as an audience. The average character is, at the very least, six-feet tall and very likely more, up to seven to seven and a half feet in some character cases. Think people think, little small kid, great big character, duh! For this gig I was the purple dinosaur, but I assure you, that I have done so many parties where I have been “Hunny Bear” and who, I ask you who, could be less threatening that him? Well, a seven-foot “cuddly bear of fluff” CAN scare too, trust me; oh can you trust me.
The second concern is, and I’ll say it, the virtual stupidity of the mother doing what she did. She caused it, caused it all, and was the actual ‘trigger” of the event and all my woe after it. To paraphrase what I said earlier, money doesn’t buy brains.
I arrive and go to the backyard where the party is. I am on time, but as is not unusual, few are there. The mother holds the little birthday girl in her arms and there is another little girl, I’ve no idea of the relationship of the two children, but they do look to be of the same age or the one standing on the ground next to the mother’s legs could be just a little bit older.
Seeing the fear in both children, but the held birthday girl is most definitely the worse of the two, I just stand there a few feet away from her, intentionally doing nothing but saying “hi” and giving her a little wave.
They are standing in an open but covered patio area that looks like it’s a living room, including a huge big-screen TV. The moment the birthday girl sees me she’s afraid; the fear she has is obvious in both her eyes and face. As noted, for a two-year-old child, this is no surprise at all and in most cases for me if I just “hold back” I usually do win them over in the end one way or another. The results do vary widely of course, some kids never lose their fear at all, some go from fear to a lighter hesitation, some do a complete turnaround and fully accept the character and some, yes some, it’s happened to me, actually affectionately bond and then when it’s finally time to go you actually get a “please don’t go, stay” from the very child the was scared to death of you about an hour earlier.
As I’m doing this, two other young kids arrive to the back yard, both with their own nanny-housekeepers. Given the wealth that’s so abundant here, there’s also no surprise in that; been there and seen that many a time. The kids are a bit older, but not by much, I’d say they were either three or four years old themselves. And sadly, they show apprehension in seeing me as well. Oh “joy”.
Well, mother does, in MY opinion, the MOST stupid thing she could do. Her daughter is actually clutching onto her for her fear of me, I can so obviously see that. But what does the mother do? She “shoves” her daughter, while being held in her arms, into me. The little girl screams and goes into true hysterics, no lie. You would’ve thought she was being beaten by the screams she made. I now see a look of frustration on the mother’s face and she takes her daughter into the house and I’m 99% certain that she’s clueless as to what she just did. I never hear her say it, but I’ve heard it said at “a million” other parties I’ve done, “…but you love him/her on TV?”
It’s a complete and total domino effect that happens. The child that was standing by the mother bursts into tears now as do both of the just brought in kids; I’m “screwed” and I know it. Not three minutes into my scheduled two hours there and I’m certain I’ve just lost my audience. I was right, but it got worse; “lucky” me. For in the next few minutes four other boys show up, but they’re of the eight or nine year old range and they all think the purple dinosaur is a jerk and want absolutely nothing to do with me. So here's my situation, four little kids, including the birthday girl, who are now terrified of me and four older boys who could care less of me. As I’m “suffering in my misery” under the fur, I do think to myself that AT LEAST, with the whole thing, the whole party, being professionally videotaped from beginning to end, I’ll have both proof and vindication of what I’ve just suffered.
Long story short, for the party itself, I tried, oh how I tried, but the little kids wouldn’t let me go near them at all and the boys wouldn’t do anything at all with me to both play and help out. I had all my activity stuff with me as I always do, a “parachute”, long jump rope mainly for limbo but could be used in a tug of war game, bubble buckets, my magic coloring book and I could always do participation game with them like ring-around-the rosy, duck-duck-goose and so on. They’d jump on a jump that was brought there or swing on a swing set that’s part of the back yard, but do anything with me, nada. I did always stay nearby them and didn’t give up as such. For what good it was doing me I could’ve just sat down in a corner or have just up and left, but I was hoping against hope that time would turn out to be my ally here; it didn’t.
Finally, with about twenty minutes left to the two hours, the kids are sat down and the birthday cake is brought out, “Happy Birthday’ is sung and the cake is served. The mother, in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice says that I can go now. I do politely question her, only to say back that my scheduled time isn’t up yet, but she repeats it’s all right to go. I do then and I know “in my bones”, I’m gonna get a after the fact phone call from the lady agent about this.
Yep, sure do, but I get no understanding over it only intense anger. “How could I just stand there and do nothing? I’m a professional, I do something!” I am actually fired right there over the phone in a Donald Trump like “You’re fired!” I try to explain, but she wasn’t interested in explanations; in her made-up mind “there was no excuse”. This so hurt me as I’d been with her for many years and always did an excellent job. Come on folks, you can’t please all of the people all of the time and I would think a long-established track record of successes and even many, many compliments would count for something, but not obviously with her. I told of the videographer and for her to please just take a look at that, it would show and tell it all, but she wasn’t interested in that either. She wasn’t my only “agent”, so I did still work of course, but I know I lost many parties for this. I would say, on average, I did a couple of parties for her a month. However, I can and will say that what hurt me more was the combination of the shabby and disrespectful treatment she gave me and of not being believed. Again, “a million” good shows, one “bad” and I’m trash, it’s not right; not right at all.
Well, we have nothing to do with each other for a bit more than six months. Then one day the phone rings at my apartment and it’s her calling. She’s FINALLY seen the video and is apologizing. A very “apology light” apology in my own humble opinion and nothing at all is said or done by her to make up for any of her discourteousness to me. But, all-in-all, “all is forgiven” and I go back to work for her. I did then and I still do now, hold my furry head up very high in complete, total and certain knowledge that I both did the very best I could that day as well as that it WAS the right thing to do at the same time. A life in the fur is a wonderful thing, a blessed thing to me at least, but there is a “dark side”. This incident was ever so sadly one of those.
Semper Furry! --“Me Furry"
(Or, it’s because of you we can’t have nice lives.)
Every character performer who makes this a career, or even those that might do it as a summer job as well, but for them to a much lesser extent, all of us know that it isn’t all sunshine and roses all the time. There will be a “party from Hell” you will have the sad misfortune of experiencing and the question only is when. This story I’m about to tell is mine. The story that will be told in part two is what you might call “the after party from Hell”. I shall explain.
First off, let me tell you that stereotypes, no matter what they are or who they involve are usually quite true and that is WHY they’re stereotypes as they are true. One stereotype that applies here in this incident is that money, even much money, education, even much education, doesn’t buy you one gram of “smarts”. Please trust me and believe me, there are rich “dim bulbs” as there are poor ones.
I am assigned to do a two-year-old girl’s birthday party in the Hollywood hills. It’s in a gated community off of Mulholland Drive and if you know the Southern California area, that means wealth. I find out after the fact that both husband and wife are lawyers and that this community is only of million dollar plus homes. And hey, based on what I saw while within it, make those mansions not ordinary homes.
As far as what started the sad incident, that was something that is, so sadly, very common itself. The world of TV kids is not and never was true reality, but so many parents must think that it is. This covers a lot of territory here, from character abilities, to sound and voice, the excitement and participation of the children, and last but not least, the virtual love and “approval” of the character. TV kids are actors and they are paid to be happy and exuberant, the TV characters at the very least have suits that are much more sophisticated than what can come to a home party and most of the time their voices are done in a separate voice over or by a off-stage vocal performer. “The guy in the suit”, in this case, IS just a guy in the suit.
The concerns here, in this case, are two. One, that the child, at two, is truly too young and two is just about the worst age for a clown or a character to have as an audience. The average character is, at the very least, six-feet tall and very likely more, up to seven to seven and a half feet in some character cases. Think people think, little small kid, great big character, duh! For this gig I was the purple dinosaur, but I assure you, that I have done so many parties where I have been “Hunny Bear” and who, I ask you who, could be less threatening that him? Well, a seven-foot “cuddly bear of fluff” CAN scare too, trust me; oh can you trust me.
The second concern is, and I’ll say it, the virtual stupidity of the mother doing what she did. She caused it, caused it all, and was the actual ‘trigger” of the event and all my woe after it. To paraphrase what I said earlier, money doesn’t buy brains.
I arrive and go to the backyard where the party is. I am on time, but as is not unusual, few are there. The mother holds the little birthday girl in her arms and there is another little girl, I’ve no idea of the relationship of the two children, but they do look to be of the same age or the one standing on the ground next to the mother’s legs could be just a little bit older.
Seeing the fear in both children, but the held birthday girl is most definitely the worse of the two, I just stand there a few feet away from her, intentionally doing nothing but saying “hi” and giving her a little wave.
They are standing in an open but covered patio area that looks like it’s a living room, including a huge big-screen TV. The moment the birthday girl sees me she’s afraid; the fear she has is obvious in both her eyes and face. As noted, for a two-year-old child, this is no surprise at all and in most cases for me if I just “hold back” I usually do win them over in the end one way or another. The results do vary widely of course, some kids never lose their fear at all, some go from fear to a lighter hesitation, some do a complete turnaround and fully accept the character and some, yes some, it’s happened to me, actually affectionately bond and then when it’s finally time to go you actually get a “please don’t go, stay” from the very child the was scared to death of you about an hour earlier.
As I’m doing this, two other young kids arrive to the back yard, both with their own nanny-housekeepers. Given the wealth that’s so abundant here, there’s also no surprise in that; been there and seen that many a time. The kids are a bit older, but not by much, I’d say they were either three or four years old themselves. And sadly, they show apprehension in seeing me as well. Oh “joy”.
Well, mother does, in MY opinion, the MOST stupid thing she could do. Her daughter is actually clutching onto her for her fear of me, I can so obviously see that. But what does the mother do? She “shoves” her daughter, while being held in her arms, into me. The little girl screams and goes into true hysterics, no lie. You would’ve thought she was being beaten by the screams she made. I now see a look of frustration on the mother’s face and she takes her daughter into the house and I’m 99% certain that she’s clueless as to what she just did. I never hear her say it, but I’ve heard it said at “a million” other parties I’ve done, “…but you love him/her on TV?”
It’s a complete and total domino effect that happens. The child that was standing by the mother bursts into tears now as do both of the just brought in kids; I’m “screwed” and I know it. Not three minutes into my scheduled two hours there and I’m certain I’ve just lost my audience. I was right, but it got worse; “lucky” me. For in the next few minutes four other boys show up, but they’re of the eight or nine year old range and they all think the purple dinosaur is a jerk and want absolutely nothing to do with me. So here's my situation, four little kids, including the birthday girl, who are now terrified of me and four older boys who could care less of me. As I’m “suffering in my misery” under the fur, I do think to myself that AT LEAST, with the whole thing, the whole party, being professionally videotaped from beginning to end, I’ll have both proof and vindication of what I’ve just suffered.
Long story short, for the party itself, I tried, oh how I tried, but the little kids wouldn’t let me go near them at all and the boys wouldn’t do anything at all with me to both play and help out. I had all my activity stuff with me as I always do, a “parachute”, long jump rope mainly for limbo but could be used in a tug of war game, bubble buckets, my magic coloring book and I could always do participation game with them like ring-around-the rosy, duck-duck-goose and so on. They’d jump on a jump that was brought there or swing on a swing set that’s part of the back yard, but do anything with me, nada. I did always stay nearby them and didn’t give up as such. For what good it was doing me I could’ve just sat down in a corner or have just up and left, but I was hoping against hope that time would turn out to be my ally here; it didn’t.
Finally, with about twenty minutes left to the two hours, the kids are sat down and the birthday cake is brought out, “Happy Birthday’ is sung and the cake is served. The mother, in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice says that I can go now. I do politely question her, only to say back that my scheduled time isn’t up yet, but she repeats it’s all right to go. I do then and I know “in my bones”, I’m gonna get a after the fact phone call from the lady agent about this.
Yep, sure do, but I get no understanding over it only intense anger. “How could I just stand there and do nothing? I’m a professional, I do something!” I am actually fired right there over the phone in a Donald Trump like “You’re fired!” I try to explain, but she wasn’t interested in explanations; in her made-up mind “there was no excuse”. This so hurt me as I’d been with her for many years and always did an excellent job. Come on folks, you can’t please all of the people all of the time and I would think a long-established track record of successes and even many, many compliments would count for something, but not obviously with her. I told of the videographer and for her to please just take a look at that, it would show and tell it all, but she wasn’t interested in that either. She wasn’t my only “agent”, so I did still work of course, but I know I lost many parties for this. I would say, on average, I did a couple of parties for her a month. However, I can and will say that what hurt me more was the combination of the shabby and disrespectful treatment she gave me and of not being believed. Again, “a million” good shows, one “bad” and I’m trash, it’s not right; not right at all.
Well, we have nothing to do with each other for a bit more than six months. Then one day the phone rings at my apartment and it’s her calling. She’s FINALLY seen the video and is apologizing. A very “apology light” apology in my own humble opinion and nothing at all is said or done by her to make up for any of her discourteousness to me. But, all-in-all, “all is forgiven” and I go back to work for her. I did then and I still do now, hold my furry head up very high in complete, total and certain knowledge that I both did the very best I could that day as well as that it WAS the right thing to do at the same time. A life in the fur is a wonderful thing, a blessed thing to me at least, but there is a “dark side”. This incident was ever so sadly one of those.
Semper Furry! --“Me Furry"
