Issue link: http://digital.copcomm.com/i/1152338
34 get there, some more shooting will be done before dawn. (God bless the I.A.T.S.E. and other unions for protecting workers' lives.) I went to the 1st AD, and politely explained that I and my boom operator are too tired and sleepy to drive safely, and must have a proper night's rest before leaving. The AD replied that the company must be out of the hotel by a certain time, and that there is nothing he can do. "There is something you can do," I told him, "hire a new sound crew, because after this scene, Jean and I are going back to the hotel to sleep, and we're driving back to LA tomorrow." The producer left the set, but returned half an hour later to announce that we would be staying in the hotel there that night after all, and not leaving until the next day. The UPM who had hired me was one of my regulars, and very happy he could make me the bad guy (and keep anyone from getting killed on his watch), and continued to hire me for other shows (read on). While not quite as important as safety, comfort is a serious concern. If I'm sitting out in the hot sun, or shivering in the cold, I know I'm not doing the best work I could. Learning how to deal with temperature extremes is just as important as learning about audio. I have never regretted the many hundreds of dollars I've spent on specialized cold-weather gear. There's no such thing as a really warm glove—the secret is down hunting mittens worn over thin glove liners. The mitten has a slit on the underside for extending fingers to (fire the rifle) work the mixer pots, then pull them back inside. Hot weather requires light-colored 100% cotton clothing with long sleeves and pant legs to absorb perspiration and cool you as it evaporates. Sweat that drips on the ground cools only it. Note that I have clipped a space blanket to the top of my umbrella to completely block the sunlight. There's another kind of comfort that's important, too—emotional comfort. Early in my career, I put up with a lot of sh*t because I needed lines on my resume, but as soon as I got "enough" of them, I decided that what I didn't need was a heart attack or a perforated ulcer. Text and pictures ©2019 by James Tanenbaum, all rights reserved. Editors' note: Part 3 of 3 continues in the fall edition. On a nonunion shoot, the first day of shooting was a disaster, and we didn't finish the scheduled work. At the end of the day, the a** hole director called each crew member "on the carpet," in front of everyone else. (God bless the I.A.T.S.E. and other unions for protecting workers from this sort of abuse.) When my turn came, I got: "Tanenbaum, you're completely unprofessional. We had to wait half an hour for you to put a radio mike on the actor." I calmly replied, "Kenny was standing outside the actor's motor home, but the doctor wouldn't let him in until he finished sewing up the actor's hand. I'm sorry that's not professional enough for you, Sir. Would you like me to leave now, or stay on until you can bring in a replacement professional mixer?" The UPM I just mentioned, was standing on the sideline and frantically motioning me to shut up, as he didn't want to lose me, or a day's production while they were getting a replacement sound crew and equipment. The director backed down, moved on to the next victim, and left me alone for the rest of the shoot, even when I didn't notice that I had run out of tape halfway through the only take of a shot until we had moved to the next location. (I had to work that day with the flu and a 103° fever.) Shiny-side up makes a BIG difference