Shore Leave Masquerade
Jul. 12th, 2004 08:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neadodsI had a vision of the Masquerade. It was going to be perfect in every detail, everything working seamlessly, the ultimate vindication of my wish to run one of these things, all my planning, and all the new systems I thought of. Everyone would be happy and on time and know just what to do, moving like a well-trained army.
I was not only foolish enough to think this but to actually say it to Ron ruefully after the fact. He encouraged me to get professional help for my delusions.
The reality? One of my judges showed up at 7 minutes to curtain and 6 minutes before my massive coronary from fear. One of my key volunteers never showed up at all, sent elsewhere in her capacity as concom. (Fortunately, her last-second replacement was fortuitously perfect - so perfect that he's pretty much got the job permanently.) One of my other volunteers decided that the job she was assigned was beneath her and walked off, leaving her area shorthanded. Everybody else was pretty much making it up as they went along. The printer jammed a few times, at least three parents complained strongly that my half-time comic told inappropriate jokes, three people tried to sign up well after entries were shut down (one, I found out later, doing the old "but can't you do it for my child? She's looked forward to this for months and months, think of my little girl.") Many of the trophy books didn't show up at all. I forgot several key things to have at the signup desk. Scheduling snafu-ed and I was a large part of that.
But like a swan, paddling madly underneath the waters, the show itself was:
Perfect.
We started 5 minutes late, which is close enough to count as "on time" by any standards. The database did work, well enough for me to think, "Idiot! I also need this!" and whip up some new lists on the spot. The judges were mostly in strong agreement, so the judging was quick and painless and GOOD. (Oddity of note: First masq. I know where Best in Show was the first award given.) The costumers, even the ones who lost, seemed to feel the next day that no-one had been shafted - and they all liked what the awards looked like, and liked the free books. Tech crew ran as smoothly as possible; I've known masqs where someone or other has had to go elsewhere to calm down for a while and that didn't happen. And while complaints got aired at the post-mortem the next day, so did compliments, and we worked out a consensus on how to handle some of the points of contention. (It turns out that one of the costumers is a professional dbase administrator and will work us up a real database for next year.)
In reality, the only serious complaint is about the comic. To get through a 30-entry extravaganza that is considered as important as the main guests stars with only one major complaint is a miracle!
I have been formally asked to come back next year. I have accepted. As far as I'm concerned, Shore Leave has found their permanent masquerade director.
Ron put it so well, I'm going to leave him the last word: "Everyone knew you could do it except you."
I was not only foolish enough to think this but to actually say it to Ron ruefully after the fact. He encouraged me to get professional help for my delusions.
The reality? One of my judges showed up at 7 minutes to curtain and 6 minutes before my massive coronary from fear. One of my key volunteers never showed up at all, sent elsewhere in her capacity as concom. (Fortunately, her last-second replacement was fortuitously perfect - so perfect that he's pretty much got the job permanently.) One of my other volunteers decided that the job she was assigned was beneath her and walked off, leaving her area shorthanded. Everybody else was pretty much making it up as they went along. The printer jammed a few times, at least three parents complained strongly that my half-time comic told inappropriate jokes, three people tried to sign up well after entries were shut down (one, I found out later, doing the old "but can't you do it for my child? She's looked forward to this for months and months, think of my little girl.") Many of the trophy books didn't show up at all. I forgot several key things to have at the signup desk. Scheduling snafu-ed and I was a large part of that.
But like a swan, paddling madly underneath the waters, the show itself was:
Perfect.
We started 5 minutes late, which is close enough to count as "on time" by any standards. The database did work, well enough for me to think, "Idiot! I also need this!" and whip up some new lists on the spot. The judges were mostly in strong agreement, so the judging was quick and painless and GOOD. (Oddity of note: First masq. I know where Best in Show was the first award given.) The costumers, even the ones who lost, seemed to feel the next day that no-one had been shafted - and they all liked what the awards looked like, and liked the free books. Tech crew ran as smoothly as possible; I've known masqs where someone or other has had to go elsewhere to calm down for a while and that didn't happen. And while complaints got aired at the post-mortem the next day, so did compliments, and we worked out a consensus on how to handle some of the points of contention. (It turns out that one of the costumers is a professional dbase administrator and will work us up a real database for next year.)
In reality, the only serious complaint is about the comic. To get through a 30-entry extravaganza that is considered as important as the main guests stars with only one major complaint is a miracle!
I have been formally asked to come back next year. I have accepted. As far as I'm concerned, Shore Leave has found their permanent masquerade director.
Ron put it so well, I'm going to leave him the last word: "Everyone knew you could do it except you."
