I think the rule at KRCB is that to be a cameraman, you have to be the most disgusting individual to walk the earth. Years ago, when Katherine and I were up there helping out on Election Night, we saw the cameraman eating corn chips off the floor. At the time, we couldn't imagine anything more disgusting. Ah, the naivete of youth.
Last night, my spot in the studio was in between the two main cameras, holding up signs, making hand signals at the achors, and trying not to bump into the cameras. (They get kinda mad when you bump into the cameras) Prior to the show starting, Alex comes up and says, "Did you see the guy who totally looks like Milton from Office Space?" Yes. Yes I did.
He turned out to be Camera 1, on my left, and he blows the corn chip guy right out of the water. The most notable thing about "Milton", aside from his uncanny resemblance to a character in Office Space, is the huge, scabby rashes covering his exposed arms. Unbandaged and oozing, these open sores came perilously close to my new outfit and distracted me from the task at hand. Worse, I believe these sores emitted an indescribable odor that enduced gag reflexs and watering eyes.
The thing is, being in such lose proximity to each other, we HAD to talk. But what do you say to someone who is denial of his clear need for immediate medical attention?
"Is this not the most boring show you've ever seen?"
He looked over and snidely replied, "Aren't you the producer?"
Uh, yeah. Aren't I allowed to talk shit about my own show? Apparently not. I moved on to the more childlike, "Do you like being a cameraman?"
"Does it look like I like being a cameraman?"
Hmmm. That's a tough one. Obviously, Milton now hates me. And as the feeling is quite mutual, I decided to entertain myself by trying to converse with him for as long as possible, asking only annoying and obnoxious questions as those seemed to be the answers he liked to give.
"Who does your hair?"
"What?" he wouldn't even look at me.
"I really like your hair."
"No one does my hair." Sweet.
"Oh. I got to Misty in Mill Valley."
"What's that supposed to be? A hint?"
This was awesome, and no one was there to hear it. "No. No. I'm just chatting. You know, shooting the shit."
And then, with beautiful simplicity, he looked over and said, "I don't know about you, Miss Producer, but some of us need to concentrate on our jobs."
With the confidence only pure apathy provides, I looked back and said, "I was just testing you. Good work."