Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Wednesday, Nov. 16, 2005 - 1:36 a.m.

Friday, the production company I work for at the moment asked me to PLEASE come be in a re-enactment on Monday, because I look a lot like the woman who was murdered (it's a forensics science program for a reality network) and they were having trouble casting her. Now, just so you know, I used to be a professional actor. I supported myself for 8 years acting. In fact, for 2 of those years, I made so much money at it that I renovated a little guest house I didn't even own just for the joy of making my space what I wanted it to be, and that included some serious plumbing replacement. I put in french doors, patched the roof, tiled, painted, plumbed, everything. Turned a 150 year old dive that used to be a carriage house and slave quarters into an extremely cute guesthouse that now rents for a lot of money. I've done several re-enactments already and am a member of AFTRA. I know my way around a stage. So I go to the shoot on Monday, and someone failed to secure a permit to film, so the shoot was scrubbed and rescheduled, TBA. So I go back to the office, and my boss - whom I lovingly refer to as Sybil, says to me she's sorry I didn't get to act, and I say I'm not sure I can make the rescheduled shoot (long story, that), and she says to me "Oh, don't worry; they'll get a real actor."

They'll get a real actor.

And you know, the real insult isn't that she thinks I'm not an actor. It's that the job I do there is so beneath notice or mention that no one would ever dream of saying, "Oh, don't worry, they'll get a real transcriber" any more than they would say "Oh don't worry, they'll get a real janitor" if someone spilled a coke. It's one of those jobs that everyone thinks is easy, that a trained chimp with language and typing skills could do it, that all you need is hearing and the ability to type. I'm the lowest of the low there, even lower than the PA's. No one says hello to me when I get there, no one says goodbye when I leave, and despite the fact that my job hinges 100% on my listening skills, no one in the office thinks a thing about carrying on half a dozen simultaneous conversations, each growing louder than the next in a neverending vicious circle, all pitched literally right next to, in front of, or behind my desk.

When's the last time you tried to concentrate on something when literally 10 different people were carrying on 3 different conversations within arm's length, growing louder and louder and louder as they all tried to outdo each other in a small room? Now make that something the task of listening to a stuttering, backtracking mumbler who says "uh" every 3rd or 5th word - sometimes 2 or 3 times in rapid succession - never pauses for a period, and is also being drowned out by traffic, and you have to write down *exactly* what he says, word for word, syllable for syllable, stutter for stutter, AND he has a thick Jamaican accent and says stuff like "Kentucky DNG, yeah yeah, that slow burn dig it," which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to you, but which must still be gotten down verbatim and spelled correctly.

Yeah.

But you know, it's okay. They'll find a real actor. Because me? I'm *just* a transcriber. Just like I was just a waiter. Just a logger. Just a receptionist, and any number of shitty, low-paying, crap jobs I have held over the years despite the fact that I am more talented, more creative, more imaginative, and way more fricking smart than most of the people I have worked for or with or around. And when I am busting my ass trying to make something happen in my useless frigging life while working a crap job to pay bills while I also work myself to death on my own shit, I'm sorry, but the last goddamned thing I need to hear is that they will find a real fucking actor. Because you know, *I* am a real motherfucking actor. And a goddamned good one. And a damned good singer, landscape designer, layout artist, graphics editor, writer, editor, journalist, story person, tour guide, post coordinator, painter, and repository of general knowledge. I'm also a decent fucking painter of craftsman designs, youth stage director, youth leader, house manager, backstage tech, tutor, and plant photographer. I am not just this job you sneer at and think a fucking chimp can do. And while we're on the subject, a fucking chimp *can't* do my job. And not just for the obvious reasons, but because I am fucking good at this job, too. And any documentary writer or story editor on this planet will tell you that a good transcriber is worth her weight in gold, and that we are few and far between. So all you fucking producers and production managers? YOU can kiss my ass.

My real ass.

Katie

0 comments so far

*HUGS* TOTAL! give katiedoyle more *HUGS*
Get hugs of your own

Yesterday's News - Next Stop

In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
In which Katie returns after a very long absence - Monday, Jun. 25, 2012
In which Katie pokes her head in and brushes some of the cobwebs away - Thursday, May. 06, 2010
In which Katie asks you to write your congressman again. - Monday, Jun. 02, 2008
In which Katie asks you to please click the link and send the message to protect the rights of artists - Wednesday, May. 21, 2008