The Minnesota Fringe Festival begins this evening, and if you haven’t considered attending a few shows this time around, you should. Almost anything can happen on stage with one major exception – the show can’t last more than an hour. This is a major draw for theatergoers with active bladders, as well as those who want their entertainers to get to the point or at least get it over with.
One reason to be hesitant – the festival relies on the support of an army of volunteers who take tickets and run the stages while being informative, courteous and efficient. Another reason – I am one of those volunteers.
Given what we know about my memory (or at least what people tell me about my memory), “informative” can be a challenge, sometimes. Especially when there are 168 shows at 18 venues. Still, I stand by my off-the-cuff statement to one curious patron last year that the show “An Adult Evening of Shel Silverstein” did not include an actual appearance by Shel Silverstein. I totally guessed on that one because Silverstein is dead, and I turned out to be right in spite of the strength of Fringe shows that feature zombies. “Courteous” is a strength area – I’m fairly certain I do OK on that one. “Efficient”? I admit I’m a work in progress.
Here’s my dirty little secret: though I have been in the employment pool for over 35 years, I have never had a paying job that required the physical handling of money. There are no burger joints in my background, no movie theaters, no coffee shops – in fact, there are no cash boxes anywhere in my resume. Also, I am a uni-tasker. I do one job at a time and I try to do it carefully, even if that’s not the fastest way to move the line (and it never is). You could say I’m retail – impaired.
This is a significant, self-inflicted handicap. In the crush time before a show starts, Fringe volunteers need to quickly decipher and make note of each type of admission various patrons will present, including the “all show” Ultra Pass, the 10 Show Pass, the 5 Show Pass, the Kid’s 5 show pass, and single show admissions. They must keep track of discount admissions (senior, student or MPR member), and if the patron cannot produce a Fringe button, the volunteer must explain that one is needed along with the ticket. It’s a one-time purchase ($4) but an every-show requirement, and if you forgot it on the kitchen counter you will have to buy a new one. And volunteers must be firm if anyone attempts to enter the theater after the doors have closed. All Fringe shows begin on time and there is no late seating.
Did I mention that I freeze up in a confrontation? Not total paralysis, but there might be long pauses, stammering, sad eyes and some gulping – more than enough to dull my persuasive powers. I’ve learned that people will not cede an argument out of pity.
Fortunately, Minnesota Fringe volunteering is the perfect entry-level experience for someone with my unique collection of shortcomings. The audiences are polite art lovers who have a high tolerance of ambiguity. They come to the festival predisposed towards forgiveness, whether they are being patient with an artist who thought he could build an entire monolog around his cat’s tumor, or a volunteer who can’t add. It is a rare and beautiful quality for an audience to possess an open and adventurous spirit. People at the Fringe expect to have their expectations challenged.
Note to one of last year’s customers: The blank look, the fumbling around in the cash box and all the finger-counting that accompanied the process of my making change for your fifty dollar bill was not, as you may have thought, incompetence. I was presenting a tiny drama about the value of paper money when offered in exchange for the fruits of a creative mind. Question: Can anyone truly “buy” an idea?
I hope I gave you something to think about, and I encourage you come back. I’ll be at the same place wearing this year’s volunteer shirt. My new show asks if it’s really possible to “control” a crowd.
If you had to create a piece of solo performance art, what would it be about?
Trail Baboon 