An Honest Living

I have been meaning to address this for a long while.

It's a pride issue.
It makes an anger-bubble pop up inside me, on the subway, on a run, in the grocery store.
I gently put my finger up and end its life with a they-don't-know-any-better.

Maybe it is my job to let them know better.

Instead of harboring ill will. Instead of keeping the self-worth in an easy to reach a place where I can defend and coddle it. Instead, maybe it's best for them to learn a little lesson.  It's okay to make them feel humbled, uneducated, and ashamed for being....well....rude.

Here is the plain and simple truth: people sometimes need to work more than one job.  Not only people in the arts, but also people who are looking to improve the world through political action, or people who are school teachers, or people who, as lawyers, work pro bono for causes that help change lives for the greater good.  In many walks of life, it is possible that a second job is needed.

This second, or third, or even forth job should not diminish a person's view of another person's worth.

I live in New York City.  My last apartment cost me $1200 a month.
For a bedroom.
In a shared apartment.
Above a dive bar.
That was falling apart.

This is not a crazy NYC story. This is what may be considered a good deal by a few people.
Still, it's a lot of money.

A common rule of thumb is that a person's rent should equal one forth of their salary.  As a working actor, this can be an impossibility.  For instance: A Tier One Equity Contract pays $625 dollars per week for a "midsized" theater (that is a theater with 699 seats or less).  To give a little perspective on this, the New York Public Theater's biggest indoor space, the Newman, only seats up to 299.
Let me do the math for you: If my rent is $1200, and I got a dream role of performing at The Public Theater, I would only have $1300 left to pay for utilities, food, and fun.  Forget about having a savings. Also, keep in mind that my neighborhood grocery store sells cereal for $6 a box.  Nothing in New York City is cheep.   The crowded, smelly, filled with crazy people subway is $2.75 a ride.  My $20 metro card always runs out in a surprising amount of time.

Money, money, money.

Currently, I am a full time performer.  I love my performance job.  I also love teaching comedy.  I truly love it, and feel lucky that I get to do two things that fill my meager bank account.

I have tended bar off and on for years.  I have made many friends through working behind the stick, and I even met my husband while behind the bar.  When I was on a solo tour making $50,000 a year, I actually missed bartending. Did I miss the late nights or serving the occasional mean customer?  Of course not.  I missed the money.  Honestly, I almost went into debt on that tour.  It simply was not enough money for a person like me to live in New York City. (Disclaimer: you can live in certain neighborhoods on that salary.  I enjoy living in Brooklyn near many trains, and I also love taking advantage of what the city has to offer: restaurants, theater, other fun adventures.)

Point being, if I have not seen you for a while, and you ask how I am doing and I say "Great!" and then you say "Are you still doing the whole acting thing?" and I say "Of course, I mean, what else would I be doing?" and you answer "Oh, well, are you still bartending?" or "Are you getting paid for it?" or the absolute worst, "Did you find a husband who can support you while you do this?" I think you are being rude, and I automatically become defensive.

Incredibly talented, beautiful, successful people work in the service industry. I have such respect for professional bartenders and waiters.  They have the patience that I cannot possibly match.  They should be proud that they are good enough at what they do to go into a shift with a smile, not get flustered by the events of the evening, serve with pride, and then do it all over again.

Incredibly talented, beautiful, successful people work as actors (or in other fields), and fill in the gaps to live a more fulfilling life by working a few shifts.  This does not mean that they are not successful. It means that they are making an honest living working hard to live in this impossible city.  Do not think less of them.  Do not judge them poorly.  Instead, praise their work ethic.  Go to one of their shows.  Speak about them with respect.  Instead of phrasing it "Well, he's out there doing his thing, but he is still waiting tables," why not say "He just did a stand-up set at the Comedy Cellar and is beginning rehearsals for 'Winter's Tale."

A good rule of thumb, speak about your friends and family in a way that they would represent themselves.

Let us not pity the actor, the teacher with the summer job, or the political activist.  They want to make this world a more fantastic place by bringing beauty, human rights, and passion to everyday life.  Sometimes, they just want a little more money to pay the bills.