Totally Unauthorized

A side of the film industry most people never see.

Surprise, with an aftertaste of ouch

Sometimes one is just not prepared for the day one gets.

It was supposed to be a fairly light day, work-wise, which was just what I needed because tomorrow I know I’m going to get the shit beaten out of me.

We were supposed to change some tubes, run some light cable, then go home. Maybe 6 hours.

We showed up at 7 am, but the equipment we needed to start working didn’t arrive until 10 am, due to traffic.

Fine. Maybe 8 hours.

We changed our tubes, ran the cable we needed to run and were hopeful we might still get out by lunch.

Then, surprise!

We had another set full of fluorescent fixtures that no one knew about before. So we got more tubes, and changed those fixtures.

I suppose I should mention that the standard-issue fixture for drop ceilings (aka troffer), isn’t designed to have the tubes changed very often. The whole point of installing these fixtures is the lack of maintenance needed.

Stick them in the ceiling, and forget they were ever there. They should last for years.

Unless you rent out your space for shoots – then we have to change out the tubes for color balanced ones, which involves wrenching open the bottom of the fixture (the delicate plastic part), wrestling out the tubes by twisting them and swearing, breaking some of the tiny parts that aren’t that fucking important anyways because I have to do 100 more of these fucking things, shoving in tubes that are just a micron too long, so there’s more shoving and swearing and sweating and 20 years of dust from the fixture falls everywhere – which is really bad if you wear a bra, because guess where that dust likes to land?

You haven’t lived until you’ve stood in the shower and tried to scrub off a combo of asbestos* dust and sweat.

But we got it all done, albeit a bit later than we’d originally intended.

Then, we got the call.

Something, somewhere, had changed.

We had to go back to all the fixtures and change the tubes for a different color.

Dammit.

I’d just used up all my baby wipes scraping off the asbestos. Now I was going to get covered in it again and itch all the way home in rain traffic.

The rain isn’t predicted until midnight, but the mere mention of water falling from the sky is enough to send the entire city into a blind panic.

All of us were hoping to be home before said panic.

Alas, it was not to be and I spent 1.5 hours crawling home on a route that should have taken me 20 minutes.

Thanks, rain.

I’ll be standing outside all day tomorrow.

 

 

*If you’re in an office building built before the era of ‘holy shit this causes cancer’, look up. See those white tiles on the ceiling? They’re not the asbestos (maybe). The asbestos is the weird popcorn looking stuff that’s sprayed everywhere between those tiles and the actual ceiling. Calm down, it’s not going to get to you. Unless you’ve rented out the building to a movie, and the riggers came in and changed the tubes. If that happened, your lungs are fucked – but it’s okay, you won’t have any issues until you’re old and decrepit and too old to care. Or so I’m told. Excuse me while I cough. It’s totally unrelated.

 

 

Filed under: crack of dawn, cranky, hazardous, locations, movies, toxic waste, Work, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Home, Improved

Since I moved in here, I’ve had the pots and pans stacked haphazardly on the stove, the counter, anywhere I could find space.

About a month after I moved, I tired of the kitchen related chaos and went to the evil Swedish store and bought a pot rack.

Then, I got distracted. I don’t know why. I guess I saw something shiny. Or a martini. Either works.

This weekend I’d finally had enough – I was going to install that rack and hang those pans if it killed me.

Since I’ve got lath and plaster walls, I went to the trusty hardware store and bought some toggle bolts, as all my cookware hanging on the wall might be a bit heavy.

The first two holes went well. I drilled a 3/8 inch hole, popped in the toggles, and all was happy.

Then, on the other side, I pounded in a nail to guide the drill bit and the nail got stuck. Somehow, I never associated this with there being a stud there, I just kept trying to drill the hole.

When I didn’t break through, I figured I’d just push in the toggle bolt anyhow, hoping that somehow the space behind the wall would magically appear, which, of course, it didn’t.

After giving up and sleeping on it, I went to my friendly neighborhood hardware store where the nice man working managed to suppress his snickers long enough to help me figure out how to do this:

Nice Rack

That, my friends, is pots and pans hanging on the wall from a rack. And all I really needed was two long hard screws. And washers.

Sweet.

Filed under: mishaps, Non-Work, Photos, , , , , , ,

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