There's something about this place that brings me a sense of nostalgia. It's a feeling that leaves one quietly breathless in anticipation of a familiar sight, a visual memory. It is a feeling that envelops you at nearly every step you take, every corner you turn, and even if it may be somewhat vague, that energy, that vibration, it stirs your heart... and remains there.
Am I too dramatic?
I don't think so.
For you would feel the same too had this place been a part of your life five days a week, Mondays to Fridays, from morning till evening, and on Saturdays, from morning till the afternoon.
There're some memories that you don't forget.
Like how the sun slants through the leaves of the coconut tree on top of the hill as you make the walk up the (carpark) slope from Cairnhill Road to the Cairnhill Arts Centre.
Like how you start thinking of the work ahead even as you make the climb up the two flights of stairs to the top of the hill before heading to the office on the first floor.
And how there would always be random seats at the (unofficial) smoke area at the back of the building where everyone but the bosses would go for a smoke, a drink, or just to breathe in some urban hilly air.
Yes, I worked here.
In a Children's Theatre company.
As a sales person aka telemarketer.
In what I would call one of my early jobs.
It wasn't a very long stint- a fairly short one, actually- but it was long enough for me to have a glimpse into the local theatrical scene, to understand the theories (somewhat) behind children's theatre, to grasp a little about the business of it, and to understand what it took to be a drama teacher.
It was a place that I got to value the importance of drama for children.
It was also a place where I realized my strengths, my weaknesses, and how sometimes even though you want to use a million and one ways to communicate with sales prospects, old-school cold-call works best with the friggin' phone.
For someone who is a natural introvert, it takes persistence and determination.
And a lot of discipline.
But that's the beauty of roles that you do. You figure out what works best for you and you grow. You accept who you are, you challenge your own status quo, and then you move on from there. Maybe it works for you, maybe it doesn't, but you just keep doing it and working on it until you get it right.
I sometimes think of the Schwan Stabilo pens that were in the stationery cupboard. I liked them- even though some of them didn't work at times and it was frustrating trying to jot down the dates and times when a successful call came in.
I sometimes wonder what happened to the files that I meticulously kept and if they were of use to the person who came after.
I wonder what happened to the dressing room at the back of the building where you could find all sorts of fabrics and sewing apparatus and where all the costumes and props (sometimes) were made. It was also where the technical team, the performance team and yes, the office team, would go and chill. The environment was casual, and you could yammer as much (and as loud) as you wanted without having to worry about the ringing phones and chuckling laughter drifting through the mouthpiece to the business caller on the other side. (Few external calls went to the dressing room.)
And then I wonder if the person who came after me did get a computer after all.
The Company occupied- more or less- the entire first floor. There were practice rooms. There were teaching rooms. There was the Academy Office and the Company Office and then there was the dressing room. They too had a Black Box Theatre down the slope, and there was a lot of running up and down whenever there were performances. I didn't get to visit it much, save for maybe once or twice when they were running a festival, and one of the performances was in the theatre. (The Potato People, I think?)
My daily place, however, was in the Company office where I had a desk right in front of the boss- gasp- and where I literally worked the phone.
And because there were lots of school shows, I ended up being very familiar with the work schedules of school teachers, whom I must say, lead very busy lives and very harried schedules. I left plenty of messages for the teachers, and I'm glad that more often that not, I got a call back. Because no matter what time I called, they were either in class, at recess, in class, at lunch, at meetings, not at their desk, or gone home.
I think it is still the same these days for teachers.
Some systems don't change.
Still, others do.
How the Company has been thus far I don't know- time passes and I haven't kept up with the scene as much as I wish to- but I'm sure it's there, I'm sure they're going on well, and perhaps one day I may drop in and say hi again.
Am I too dramatic?
I don't think so.
For you would feel the same too had this place been a part of your life five days a week, Mondays to Fridays, from morning till evening, and on Saturdays, from morning till the afternoon.
There're some memories that you don't forget.
Like how the sun slants through the leaves of the coconut tree on top of the hill as you make the walk up the (carpark) slope from Cairnhill Road to the Cairnhill Arts Centre.
Like how you start thinking of the work ahead even as you make the climb up the two flights of stairs to the top of the hill before heading to the office on the first floor.
And how there would always be random seats at the (unofficial) smoke area at the back of the building where everyone but the bosses would go for a smoke, a drink, or just to breathe in some urban hilly air.
Yes, I worked here.
In a Children's Theatre company.
As a sales person aka telemarketer.
In what I would call one of my early jobs.
It wasn't a very long stint- a fairly short one, actually- but it was long enough for me to have a glimpse into the local theatrical scene, to understand the theories (somewhat) behind children's theatre, to grasp a little about the business of it, and to understand what it took to be a drama teacher.
It was a place that I got to value the importance of drama for children.
It was also a place where I realized my strengths, my weaknesses, and how sometimes even though you want to use a million and one ways to communicate with sales prospects, old-school cold-call works best with the friggin' phone.
For someone who is a natural introvert, it takes persistence and determination.
And a lot of discipline.
But that's the beauty of roles that you do. You figure out what works best for you and you grow. You accept who you are, you challenge your own status quo, and then you move on from there. Maybe it works for you, maybe it doesn't, but you just keep doing it and working on it until you get it right.
I sometimes think of the Schwan Stabilo pens that were in the stationery cupboard. I liked them- even though some of them didn't work at times and it was frustrating trying to jot down the dates and times when a successful call came in.
I sometimes wonder what happened to the files that I meticulously kept and if they were of use to the person who came after.
I wonder what happened to the dressing room at the back of the building where you could find all sorts of fabrics and sewing apparatus and where all the costumes and props (sometimes) were made. It was also where the technical team, the performance team and yes, the office team, would go and chill. The environment was casual, and you could yammer as much (and as loud) as you wanted without having to worry about the ringing phones and chuckling laughter drifting through the mouthpiece to the business caller on the other side. (Few external calls went to the dressing room.)
And then I wonder if the person who came after me did get a computer after all.
The Company occupied- more or less- the entire first floor. There were practice rooms. There were teaching rooms. There was the Academy Office and the Company Office and then there was the dressing room. They too had a Black Box Theatre down the slope, and there was a lot of running up and down whenever there were performances. I didn't get to visit it much, save for maybe once or twice when they were running a festival, and one of the performances was in the theatre. (The Potato People, I think?)
My daily place, however, was in the Company office where I had a desk right in front of the boss- gasp- and where I literally worked the phone.
And because there were lots of school shows, I ended up being very familiar with the work schedules of school teachers, whom I must say, lead very busy lives and very harried schedules. I left plenty of messages for the teachers, and I'm glad that more often that not, I got a call back. Because no matter what time I called, they were either in class, at recess, in class, at lunch, at meetings, not at their desk, or gone home.
I think it is still the same these days for teachers.
Some systems don't change.
Still, others do.
How the Company has been thus far I don't know- time passes and I haven't kept up with the scene as much as I wish to- but I'm sure it's there, I'm sure they're going on well, and perhaps one day I may drop in and say hi again.