Weird

The lifestyle of a professional singer is weird. It's weird because I grew up in Olympia, Washington. It's the state capital and about 50% of the people who live there work for the government. My parents are/were both state employees, and when it was time for me to get my first job, I also got a job with the state. I worked in the Human Resources Office of the Department of Revenue on and off from 1997 until 2003, when I went to graduate school in Seattle. And, of course, when I looked for work in Seattle, I got a job at the state-run University of Washington, in an administrative position that has a lot to do with Human Resources. Big surprise.

I have always been accustomed to this lifestyle, because it is what my family life was structured around growing up. 40-hour work weeks, one-hour lunch breaks, 15 minute coffee breaks, having evenings, weekends and holidays off, and striving for a friendly, professional rapport with my co-workers is something that has always seemed natural to me.

That is not the world I live in now. Oh no. No no no no no. My life is much different. It's weird.

At the theater the schedule is ever-changing. I have no idea if I have a rehearsal tomorrow morning, because tomorrow's rehearsal schedule won't be posted for another 30 minutes (at 2:00 p.m.). I work evenings, weekends, and every major holiday. When I get a day off I usually spend it doing laundry and cleaning and slounging around my apartment, because I'm never quite sure when the next day off will roll around. And when I have an unexpected morning off, like today, I sometimes become so overwhelmed with all the things I could do with my "sudden" free time that I become paralyzed, and instead resort back to washing dishes and updating my blog and slounging around my apartment.

My relationship with my coworkers is also weird. In general we all have a friendly rapport, but I am much closer to my female colleagues than I would ever be in an office job. This is because I have seen them all in their underwear. Or less. And they have all seen me in my underwear. Or less. Not only that, but if I happen to be wearing underwear that they haven't seen before, I may be subject to closer inspection and commentary/opinions. This is also true if I have lost or gained weight, gotten a tan, etc. And depending on what show we're doing or how fast costume changes happen behind stage, I might be changing clothes in front of my male colleagues as well. Needless to say, personal grooming for work takes on a whole new meaning at the theater.

The different personalities that are found at the theater also exist in the office world. There are whiners, do-gooders, lazies, and nit-pickers in every job everywhere. But sometimes I feel like our particular venue makes it easier for these personalities to come out. For instance, as a choir we mainly function as a unit. We are co-dependant on each other to produce our product, which, in our case, is a good performance. And if a nit-picker sees a lazy not pulling their weight, you can believe they are going to say something. And if a whiner is jealous of a do-gooder, yep, you're going to hear about it. There isn't a lot of water cooler whispering going on or running to the manager or boss. It pretty much all gets thrown out from all sides. And that is weird.

Of course, "weird" doesn't always have to mean negative. I think it's weird that I get paid to put on pretty costumes and wear make-up and sing and dance for people. I think it's weird that I get six weeks of paid vacation in summer to make up for not having much of a life the other 10+ months out of the year. And I think it's weird that a large chunk of the funding for this whole enterprise comes from the federal government of Germany. But that stuff is all great, too, and I'm going to definitely miss it when I am gone.

So for now I'm just soaking in the weirdness, but I'm also secretly looking forward to a new set of coworkers in an office somewhere. And I hope I never see their underwear. Or vice versa.