Friday, April 12, 2013

A Learning Experience

If you're looking for the moral of this story, scroll down to the bullet list.

Over the past few months, I organized / promoted a comedy show as a senior project, thinking it would be a lot of fun and unique from other projects former students had done. I can definitely say it was unique, and fun at times, but the long, harrowing journey I took to get to one short night of laughter was more painful than I had anticipated.

I originally started plans last August with the intent of having a show involving semi-professional stand-up comedians and student improvisors and sketch comedians in January. The show would take place in a small, but adequate, event center that most people in town don't even realize exists. The event center manager, strung out due to family, financial, and time management problems, agreed to the event and met with me in person once. This manager gave me little to no guidance about what they wanted to see in their venue, what it would cost me to ensure their costs were covered, and never even gave me a solid yes or no concerning the date I had in mind.

After our meeting, it became very difficult to get in touch with the manager; phone calls and emails were rarely, if ever, returned, and I felt like I'd been left hanging in limbo. One day (in mid-December, mind you), I received an abrupt email stating that the manager was no longer managing the event center, and that I needed to get in touch with the building's management. Hmm...

Fortunately, I'd already been in touch with a pub down the street that had shown some interest; I met with an owner of the pub promptly. The owner expressed that comedy had not gone well for them in the past, but was willing to compromise and let me have a fairly low-risk evening: A Wednesday in March. I was allowed to start after the dinner rush was over, and could stay into the night.

The pub owner had agreed (in person) to help with promo by putting up my posters around the pub, and advertising on their online calendar and "table tents." Good enough for me, I thought. Most of the rest of our agreements were made or verified through email.

Honestly, by this time, I was losing gumption and motivation, and was having a hard time finding an affordable semi-professional comedian in the area, so I changed course. I decided to pay a friend who had experience in improv and emcee-ing to help me before and during the show. I turned the night into the "Last Laugh Improv Battle Night", and decided MSU's improv team would duke it out against a college improv team from the next town over. Social media events were created, posters were made (thanks to this guy), and loose promo instructions were given to a generally less-than-savvy street team.

As the show date came closer, I met with the pub owner again to make sure we were on the same page. I got to the pub, and realized no inside promo that had been promised had been done, and that there was nothing I could really do about it. March's table tents were already up (without my event), and all I could ask was that some of my posters go up. One did.

At this meeting, I was asked, "What are you going to do about sound?" Oh. Shit. It was a week before the show, and I'd completely spaced technical production. Fortunately, a friend who's a wiz with a/v stuff was able to rent me a few things for cheap, and another friend with some experience in live sound was able to help during the show.

Note: Also at this meeting, I was asked what improv is... Which I had assumed had been understood, since each time I'd referred to "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" the owner had emphatically nodded along. Oy vey...

At the show, things went okay, and I felt a lot of relief knowing it was almost over. My paid emcee introduced and did his own on-spot sketch (nominal, at best), and the first group went on and did their thing, mic'd. There was a lot of feed back (my mom complained, reminding me I would need to deal with all complaints as the event administrator), and it was clear the group didn't have a lot of experience with mics or PG improv. After this group's alright performance, MSU's group took the stage and made me really proud. The group (all theatre majors) decided to nix the idea of mics and project themselves, which was incidentally much more effective, and was able to make it a family-friendly atmosphere.

So, needless to say, the show went, whether it was great or just okay, despite all the work I felt I put into it months beforehand.

Now, if you're looking for the moral of this story and what I've learned, here we go:

  • Figure out how to make an effective timeline / checklist for yourself, and follow it. My timeline was wimpy at best, and I didn't even follow what little I'd written down. If I had, I would've had mics figured out well ahead of time, and wouldn't have scrambled to get decent sound (which I didn't get, because I scrambled). Since then, I've found a large event timeline I like that could be customized and watered down for smaller events, too.
  • Make sure Plan B (and C and D) is a good one. When I realized I wouldn't be able to afford the comedians I originally had in mind, I skipped straight to a Plan D. In other words, my alternatives weren't necessarily as well thought out and strong as they could have been, making for a less impressive show. 
  • Keep things in writing. I did this for some things through email, like how much money the pub would put toward the event, but forgot to verify important things like promo. I wish I would have been more diligent about this, so that I could have looked back on these and said, "You agreed to this, so why aren't you doing it?"
  • When things feel wrong, abandon ship. I did this by feeling out the pub before I'd even officially pulled the plug on the event center. In any case, because of various details not described here, I think the show went better at the pub than it would have at the center.
  • Organize dress rehearsals. I'd attempted to do this too late in the game (again, timelines). This left me with a show that looked thrown together and confused, and overly nervous performers.
  • Keep on top of your performers. I was happy that my emcee was able to offer ideas and knew a lot about improv to help with the concept of the show. However, I should have checked in with him a week beforehand to make sure he was preparing something to perform and not making up some crappy sketch on the spot.
  • Keep on top of your workers. When I gave my workers the seemingly simple task of postering around town, I told them each to cover certain regions, assuming they could use their best judgement about the specifics. This was apparently a bad assumption (though I don't think it should have been), since I never saw many posters other than my own. Also, I have a tendency to let my workers do what they want (i.e. be lazy) for fear of sounding like a nag otherwise. I need to find a tactic that allows me to check up on my workers without feeling like I'm breathing down their necks. Note: I should add that I was very happy and impressed with one of my workers.
This show may not have been the most satisfying way to finish up a senior project, but I'm happy with what I've learned, and I now know a lot of things to never do again. As my own professor said, next time I'm asked the terrible interview question "tell me about a time you had a problem and solved it," at least I'll have a solid, ready answer.

What might you have done differently in my shoes? What kind of problems have you encountered when organizing your own events?

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