Business As (Un)Usual

So... You know when I said I was planning on taking a break back in April when I had my burnout diagnosis and it turned out to be a working vacation instead? Well, this time I'm actually going to take an acting break! But then again, things have a way of finding me, funnily enough. So, we'll see if it's actually true this time around! But in both cases, this means that I won't be taking on new projects or doing my usual hustling around the region - no auditions, no self-tapes, no searching online for auditions and opportunities, none of that. However, should a project or opportunity pop up where I would be needed, I will take that into consideration (with a dose of prayer and reflection, that is!). I'm looking forward to taking an actual break this time. I would go up to NYC for the day to see a show and walk around, but unfortunately, it's too hot right now and there's metro construction going on in my neighborhood, so getting to the Amtrak station on time to catch my train might not be in my favor right now. Nope, it looks like it's going to be a staycation, where I just do a lot of self-care, a lot of catching up on things I need to do around the apartment, and a lot of reflection. It's a word that I use a lot of in my posts: reflection. I haven't done that in a while, when I need to do this on a regular basis. I guess burnout forces you to put things into perspective and also make you think about the kind of person you don't want to be, and the actions and behaviors you don't want to keep doing to end up in this same predicament again. And one of the things I'm thinking about is where do I want to go from here in terms of my career. Now, I get it - "Didn't you think about this the last time, or a while ago? Why are you thinking about this again?' Well, here's the thing: I didn't do the deep thinking I intended to do... Because I've spent a lot of time constantly trying to move, sometimes without stopping. I just had to do something, anything, to let others know that I'm still in my career, and that I have some form of worth to offer. And sometimes, that doesn't involve stopping to do some deep thinking... Or even wanting to stop to do some deep thinking. I'm the type of person who believes that idle hands are the devil's worship, and that resting should only be after you've accomplished everything on your to-do list. In other words, you've earned that rest and relaxation. There's a part of me that feels like I don't deserve the rest and relaxation, even if it's for recovery and healing from burnout. Because I'm not sure if I've done enough to earn it. I haven't done enough shows or projects this year. I didn't get called back for opportunities at major theatre companies. I didn't book any major roles or shows. I didn't do my fill of self-tapes, auditions, or submissions that I normally would. I didn't get the rave reviews or recommendations I was hoping for. There's a part of me that feels like I haven't even come close to doing enough, and I need to do more in order to believe I've earned the rest and relaxation. But here's the thing about rest & relaxation: It can either come when you want it to come... Or it will force you to get in some much-needed R&R. And I'm at the point where I'm being forced to slow down and do the deep thinking I've been putting off for so long all because I wanted to do was prove to others, and even myself, that I had worth if I just kept on consistently working without stopping. Let me tell you firsthand that I don't wish burnout on anyone. It's rough. There is a consistent mental, emotional, and physical weariness I go through day in and day out. There are times when I can only give 5% of my best because of the weariness. I'm not as anxious or stressed as I usually am. I'm slowing down when I'm walking or going about my day. I don't have my usual "oomph" like I normally would to go about my day. I have feelings of resignation (or is it acceptance?) whenever I complete a task or an audition or submit for a project.

Burnout is real... And recovery doesn't take just a day. It can take months, even a whole calendar year to recover from. The fact is I'm giving myself a half to a whole calendar year to recover from the burnout because it has been a lot and I'm being forced to slow down for my own sanity and health because I thought I had to do more to earn the rest I so craved. And maybe there's another good side to being forced to slow down: It changes your perspective on the things you thought mattered, but actually didn't. It makes you see that sometimes it's just good to be in the moment and not do anything. It makes you feel every emotion, and that you sometimes have to stop and feel every emotion, thought, and idea. Even if it means giving yourself extra grace to feel everything, especially the ones you don't want to feel because of the shame that comes with it. But here's the thing about burnout that many people may not know, or even want to accept. Life goes on... Sometimes as a much feverish pace than you want it to. And not everyone will be as understanding as you'd like them to be, especially if you work in a field where you interact with various people on a regular basis. I think there are some industries out there who just don't seem to get the concept of slowing down, or even if it's okay to slow down. Maybe it's because the idea of going slowly equals going backwards. Lack of progression. Laziness. Less growth. Less money. Less productivity. And in this fast paced world we live in, going fast without stopping equals upwards and forwards. More productivity. More money. More opportunities. More connections. More satisfaction. More, more, MORE. This idea of getting more, even when you're burnt out and need a break seems to entice people in the expected and unexpected of ways. Think about it: When someone is tired and even fed up with how businesses are run or how they're treated, they threaten to leave and go somewhere else where they can be better appreciated. But the business tries to keep them with the idea of more: More money! More PTO! More flexible schedules! More help from others! More, more, MORE! Do you see where I'm getting at? This cycle of more is what is keeping businesses going, even the newer businesses and industries. But there's just one problem: The idea of more is not a good business model for everyone. Sure, growth is important, as is productivity, money, and a great team. But if you don't take the time to slow down when necessary (not when things reach a breaking point) and address the problems and issues that have been plaguing organizations and teams for many months or years at a time, and even make changes, getting more becomes getting to be a problem. A blight, even. And what's worse - there are some businesses and organizations who overlook this, just for the sake of business and if they bury their head in the sand long enough, the blight will go away on its own. I'll let you in on a little secret. (Come here!) The blight won't go away on its on, no matter how deep you bury your head in the sand or look the other way. Or even how much money or PTO or flexibility you offer just to ensure loyalty and support for the business and organization. (AKA just keep them quiet and not make our business or organization look bad.) You're probably wondering where I'm getting at with this. Granted, I don't know much about business models or structure, per se. But I do know a thing or two about how the industry I'm in seems to crave the more model: More ticket sales. More seats filled. More well-known actors in shows. More well-known shows. More donors. More fundraisers. More, more, MORE. And I also see that this has been kept at an especially feverish pace in the four years since the COVID pandemic shut down many arts institutions out of safety and concern. But there's just one thing that's bugged me for the past four years: Why didn't we take the time to slow down, or even check in with everyone to see if they're doing okay? Why didn't we ask everyone if we needed anything? Help, even? Why didn't we transition from a place of no growth to massive growth at a slow pace? Why didn't we take our time with bringing people back into theaters, putting up shows, and making sure everyone is safe doing so? Why didn't we take the time to look at the blights and actually do something about them, especially if they've been in place for decades and clearly have been doing more harm than good? Why did we go back to business as usual... When it's clear that business is going to be unusual for the foreseeable future? This is one of those posts where I have some deep thoughts and observations, so hang on tight!

If you recall my previous blog post, (NOT) On Broadway, which you can read here, I made a point to mention about how after the pandemic many theatre companies and organizations picked up where they left off without as much of a thought of asking people how they were doing or even taking things slowly after news of reopening became reality. I mentioned someone who spoke about this in great detail, and I thought I'd revisit them again. Their name is Karen Olivo (or KO, as they are now being referred to), and they were a household name onstage on Broadway and across regional theaters across the country. They starred in big shows like West Side Story, Hamilton, In the Heights, and Moulin Rouge in NYC, and were also impacted by the shutdown. But Karen was also impacted negatively by a nefarious man by the name of Scott Rudin, who was accused of sexual assault and abusive behavior by many of his former colleagues, actors, and staffers. As a victim of sexual assault, they had hoped the theatre community would be vocal about the allegations and the call for change in the theatre community against domestic violence and sexual assault. But all of us were in for a big surprise... Because the Broadway theatre community and industry as a whole kept silent. And as theatre was reopening again after being shuttered for over a year, Karen was incensed by the lack of response, but also by how business went on as usual when theaters were getting ready to put shows back up on stage again. Their response was eye-opening and heartbreaking, as taken from the Los Angeles Times from back in 2021 when Karen decided to leave Moulin Rouge and their full disillusionment with the commercial theatre and performance industry (you can read the full article here):

When did the inkling to leave “Moulin Rouge!” begin? "When everything shut down, I had gotten COVID — luckily, it didn’t put me in the hospital and I only had two days that were kind of scary. But I went to a building, I did something in good faith, and there was no one checking up on us. It’s another instance of how the industry doesn’t take care of its own, even though we’re “family.” It only shows up when the cameras are on or when it’s time to fundraise. In the year of community organizing during the shutdown, I realized I can actually help my industry in a different way, by caring about the people who are suffering in silence, because we can’t go back to the way it was.

Then, there was the complete and utter silence from my industry. I’m a survivor of assault and sexual abuse, and I was like, I’m not going to say yes to an industry that can’t stand up for survivors. These are people from inside our industry, who were courageous enough to speak up! Something really shifted in me. Plus, when it came time to make offers to go back, they offered the same amount of money, and the same amount of rehearsal time. This is the hardest show I’ve ever done. I was like, who’s gonna remount it in six weeks? This robot that you built to look like me? I can’t. I was like, you don’t really mean you want to take care of us. You want to get us to the stage so that you can keep making money or start to make some of the money that you lost. I was like, I’m good. I’m out. There’s no malice at all toward the cast or crew, and Natalie Mendoza, who is taking over for Satine, is a gorgeous light of a human being. But the commercial theater system itself is something I can’t endorse." Why make the announcement via Instagram Live?

"It was because they wanted to control the narrative yet again. They were like, “Can you just not say anything? And let us control it?” But I was making a personal decision about what this industry means to me and what it can’t mean to me anymore. And you want to control it for your pocketbook? No. So I went live." You made your Broadway debut in 1996. What do you think sparked your disillusionment with commercial theater? "I’ve always had a tugging that this is not a good relationship. I mean, wonderful things can happen: go to the White House, sing for Obama, win a Tony [for 2009’s “West Side Story”], all of these things that you’re like, “Oh my God, is this my life?”

I put it all on pause for a minute before, after I finished negotiating my own contract for the show “Murder Ballad.” Its first incarnation had already taken so much out of me, I was taking home maybe $300 weekly. Then they were like, “We want to remount it in a bigger place and make more money.” I was like, “Cool, but from a business perspective, I need to make sure that I’m going to make money because it costs me so much to do it.” I got the company members to basically “Friends” the negotiations, which doesn’t happen in our industry: “There are only four of us, they can’t do it without us, let’s build something that we can be proud of.” It was in that negotiation where I got to see how I was spoken about by these people who needed what I was going to give them. I started thinking, why am I making you money? Why would I give my art to people whose integrity doesn’t match my own?" What advice do you have for those who choose to remain in the Broadway system, for whatever reason? "I can’t fault them because I don’t know their life or their circumstances. I do mourn for them, though. I’ve been in this business for a long time, so I don’t want anyone to ever have to go through what I went through. So when I see someone stepping back into a relationship in which they’re undervalued, where the same BS is happening, it shows me that they don’t know how much they’re worth. It makes me sad when people don’t see that it can’t happen without them. I want people to be educated enough so that they’re making choices based off of what they know rather than what someone told them. Know what you’re getting into. It’s a business, so act accordingly. You want to get in the ring, know you’re probably going to get hit and it’s not going to feel good. And if you don’t want to get hit, then you need to be strategic. We keep believing that Broadway is the center of theater when it’s really a real estate game, because some of the greatest theater never even made it to those stages. Don’t go in there being like, all my dreams are gonna come true, and I’m gonna be a better actor because now I’m on Broadway. It doesn’t happen like that. It needs to be, I need to know more about it if I’m going to navigate it properly or else I’m going to get taken for a ride." For those who love theater, whether they’re buying Broadway tickets or even just watching the Tonys, do you hope they do so with a grain of salt? "Look, I’m not going to tell people to not enjoy live, commercial theater. That’s just never going to happen, right? People live and breathe it. But I would hope that they cared about the person who is giving them their all for three hours and was doing things that made your jaw drop, what it takes for them to do that and how they’re being treated. And sometimes that means you do a little bit more digging. Our audience needs to be a little bit more educated, and that’s the way we change the market. I mean, we see it all the time: When a company is doing something unethical, people are like, Why are we buying that? I mean, people turned on Goya in two seconds, right? Why would I give you my money? If we’re gonna be smarter consumers, your job is to figure out where your money’s going to go. Because if people were actually honest about the things that happen, then maybe you’d look at a stage and really ask yourself, Is this still entertaining if I know all of the things happening in the background? Am I going to give up my enjoyment so that you can have your humanity? That’s a question for the person who buys the ticket. I can’t answer that for you. I just know how it falls on me. I know what I’m going to look for and how I’m going to spend my money if I go to the theater." Do you know what's sad about all of this? This is not just happening in commercial theatre, but it's also happening in non-profit theatre companies and organizations as well. It seems that silence equals good business, and good business means more. More money. More butts in seats. More rave reviews and awards for the production and the ensemble. More sellouts. More payouts for the people at the very top. More, more, MORE. And silence is the best policy to keep business going as usual... Even after a global pandemic. Despite all of these promises for changes in pay for employees, actors, stage managers, technicians and craftspeople, or a wider variety of stories needing to be told for the current times, or using a diverse talent roster than just relying on the biggest and best stars to bring in the audiences, or implementing better safety techniques for physical, mental, and emotional health, or using new fundraising methods, once the announcement came that the theaters can reopen again, those things went out the window and it was business as usual once again. It was as if they were using the silence as a way to keep business as normal, or even bury their heads in the sand to avoid all of the problems that have been plaguing the community for decades. Silence, or even being sticklers for tradition, is the only way to keep the business going. If there is any change in tradition or even taking a risk, there's a chance that the business will be one step closer to failing. That means in order to bring in more... They have to keep using the same people over and over again, even if they run the risk of being called gatekeepers for their casting. They have to only show support for their employees and the workers and all of the programs during fundraisers, and not any other day. They have to maintain the same pay rate for paying everyone, even while they have to do layoffs and cutbacks in order to keep things afloat. They have to keep hiring the best and brightest, despite their sordid past of sexual assault, domestic violence, and mistreatment, even while insisting it's all for the sake of "art". They have to keep the same schedules and procedures for rehearsals, tech week, and performances, even if everyone involved is tired and burnt out and deserves to be paid more than what they make. You get my point? In order to bring in more, they have to keep doing the same things or even less so that the industry has a chance to survive or even keep the arts going for years to come. And that includes looking the other way when people like Karen or yours truly speaks so much about the problems and issues that have been going on for a number years, problems and issues that should've been properly addressed and made changes from the very start. It's maddening to think that this industry is sticking close to these methods, traditions, and ideologies for the sake of "art," while also burying their heads in the sand and avoiding the very problems that should've been taken care of when they first made those promises during the pandemic to make those changes that helps everyone in the first place. And not even listening to others when they speak up because they're deemed "too difficult" or "doesn't align with our values" or "it's only business. Don't blow things out of proportion." All because they're focusing on more... More, more, MORE. But let me ask you this: What happens when striving for more causes things to fall apart, especially if it's the very things you stand for as a theatre company and organization? (This week's blog post is another one of those heavy topics that doesn't seem to get enough traction or enough people to read or be educated on, especially if it's something us actors, artists, theatre educators, stage crew members, and more deal with on a regular basis. My hope is that this post's deep reflection offers a bit of education, clarity, and a glance into how the theatre community and industry is still struggling and still resistant to change, despite making many promises during the pandemic to make those changes happen. But be as that may, these are MY observations and reflections, and you are welcome to disagree with anything I've said in this week's post or previous blogs I've written. What I won't tolerate is offensive language, divisive comments, or disrespect towards myself or anyone else who wants to offer their opinions and thoughts. If you can't even find it in your heart to be kind, listen, and understand one another [while also agreeing to disagree], I will block you.)

What brought about this week's post? Well, it was several things, but the one that stands out the most actually came from several weeks ago. I was riding home from a rehearsal with the director one night, and I was catching her up on everything that's happened since I saw her last, including my recent performances as an understudy. I will never forget what she said to me: "I'm so surprised you just now got cast in a show! How is it you haven't been working more? You're so good!" In my weariness, I told her I wish I had an answer to that. It's nice to be acknowledged for all of the hard work and persistence you put into your career, and know that you're good at it. But it's frustrating to not have a good answer to people asking you why you haven't been working more other than "I don't know." You don't want to sound petty or selfish, so you blame the industry or someone else for your casting misfortunes. In some ways, you have to admit to yourself that you're not doing enough or asking the right questions - like what do you REALLY want in your career? - to help you move forward. So, you have to take some form of responsibility and accountability for what you're doing (and not doing) in your career. You're the only one who has control in how things go, and when it's okay to let go and take a step back and let things happen on their own. But if I did have a plausible answer, it would be something we discussed afterwards, and that's how frustrating the theatre community and industry is still carrying on as if nothing had happened and it's back to business. No checking in with anyone. No raising the pay rate for everyone onstage and behind the scenes. No using diverse talent, or even local talent (a cornucopia in a region like this, as it were). No taking things slow when theaters first reopened. No implementing new ideas or creative fundraising efforts. No addressing the many problems and issues that's maddening to us artists and creatives who have been calling for change for so long. None of that. And it was all because of more. More, more, MORE. I get it: This pandemic really did a number on the arts community, and it's forcing all of us to change the way we think, act, and go about our lives in this industry. But you're doing the wrong thing from the very beginning, and that is getting back to business as usual... And sticking with the same methods that have worked before just so you can create more and keep the doors open. That was your first mistake... And it may cost you in the long run if you don't actually see, hear, and understand what is going on around you. Burying your head in the sand is not going to make things go away on its own. It'll only make you look foolish and out of touch with this ever-changing world. The fact that Karen's words were largely left unheeded is both upsetting and terrifying to me because that says that you only care about maintaining the status quo and sticking to business as usual for the sake of "art." Creating art for the sake of "more" is not healthy, nor is it right. Yes, you're a business, but you have to be better than this. If people are calling you out on doing the same mistakes you've been making for a number of years, you don't bury your head in the sand or look the other way. You face it head-on, no matter how hard or divisive it may be. Times are changing, people are changing. Isn't it time you changed with it? You can't keep on holding onto the same methods, ideas, and traditions that have kept your doors open for decades when many of this has done more harm than good. Especially if you've promised to make those changes during the pandemic. Going back on your word is a betrayal of trust to everyone, and that's the last thing you want to be known for. Even if you do have to schmooze to the big donors and organizations for money, you can't go back on your word for change and transformation, especially if it's one that would benefit everyone, not just those at the top. And you can't keep on treating this like business as usual... When it's clearly not. Not when so many people are fed up with "that's the way it is." I know I'm risking a lot when I'm speaking up about these things, but I'm genuinely scared and angry with how this industry is operating as if nothing has happened. To me, being a business is more than about getting more. It's being open to change. It's checking on everyone and making sure their needs are met. It's being open to new ideas, stories, and methods. It's not looking the other way when there are people who are hurting because you did just that. It's not burying your head in the sand, thinking that the problems will go away on its own. You need to start listening to people who are speaking the truth, and not afraid to admit you're wrong and things need to change for everyone. Karen had the right idea to speak up, honestly and vulnerably. They're scared about the future of theatre. And so am I. I don't want to have to keep on saying "I don't have an answer" when it's clear that the answer is right in front of me. Theatre is a business, yes... But after what happened four years ago, it's far from business as usual. Especially if you keep on treating it as such and not seeing the damage and harm you've created by your decisions to look the other way and go for more. And all for the sake of art, too. Think about it. Sincerely, A concerned and burnt out actor.