Well, we’re on strike. As I expected, what news coverage I’ve seen has been centered on all the disappointed little kiddies who don’t get to see the Grinch, and no news about the disappointed little kiddies – children of hard-working, blue-collar men and women – who would result from all the stagehands’ jobs that management is looking to cut.

At times like this, it really is all about how the story is told. Oh woe, the disappointed kids from wealthy families who can afford Broadway tickets, and nothing about how most if not all of these men have families as well, and how the jobs that would be cut back would result in deprivation for them. And real deprivation, like no Christmas and a sparse Thanksgiving. Or, how the owners are looking to “save money.” Which, of course, means “more profits.” What’s a few out of work blue-collar Americans when yet another rich guy gets richer?

I am, of course, not surprised in the least. I come from stagehands, this is what my family knows for generations. We grew up not seeing our fathers until late at night, unless they were laid up in bed, hurt from….working! Stagehands work through lunch and vacations. We work hurt and retire with permanent injuries, all so the show can go on. We are the first there to turn the lights on in the morning, and the last to leave and turn them off at night.

This story was posted here some time ago, but it illustrates the point nicely:

During some of the recent talks, a head stagehand at one of the theatres asked an owner/executive/whatever a question.

“So. Let me ask you a question. What do you do on a Sunday morning? Do you sleep in a little bit?”

“Yeah, I might get an hour or so extra.”

“Sleep in, have a little breakfast with the kids?”

“Sure, eat with my children, hang out with them, you know. Spend time.”

“And then what? Mow the lawn, have a couple drinks?”

“Maybe. Get in a few rounds of golf. You know, relax.”

“You spend your Sunday just hanging out, relaxing, playing a little bit? Seeing your family?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, you know what I do with my Sundays? I get up at 5am, kiss my sleeping kids goodbye, and I come in here and run your fucking theatre. And you want to pay me less now?”