Front of House: Observations from a Decade on the Aisle Read Online Free PDF Page A

After the final curtain you might discover that all the doors across the orchestra level are flung wide open, or you might be directed to exit through a staircase by the boxes. The ushers and managers try to ensure that everyone has safe, fast paths for egress.
    Here’s the curious thing, though: most people don’t try to find the quickest or easiest way out. They zero in on one particular exit, even if it’s not the closest one, and huddle with the thousand other patrons who are trying to leave that way. They just follow the person in front of them and don’t bother to look around. Consequently, there will often be two exits that are completely empty, while twenty feet away, scores of people are jostling to leave via the third.
    I always tried to combat this by directing people to use all the exits, to take the stairs they hadn’t noticed, or to walk across the rows of seats to bypass the crowds and make use of all the open orchestra doors. I tended to be somewhat zealous about it, and as a result, my sections usually tended to clear out quickly. At one theater, the chief called me “the sweeper.”
    Let’s be honest: it was somewhat self-serving, because I wanted to go home. I couldn’t leave until my section was clear. The faster that happened, the faster I could get out of there. However, I also really was trying to deliver good customer service. I figured that the patrons might be happier if they only spent five minutes exiting as opposed to fifteen. I don’t know anyone who really enjoys trudging along through a slow-moving crowd, and there’s no reason to wait for Exit A when Exits B and C are totally open.
    What was always surprising to me was the way some people reacted to being told there was an alternative exit available. They’d fix me with icy stares and coldly inform me, “I’m going this way.” This happened even when I tried to explain that the two staircases actually went to the exact same place in the lobby, so they didn’t have to wait for the one that was overcrowded. It was as though they thought I was trying to deliberately mislead them. That sounds melodramatic, perhaps, but judging from the reactions I got, some people genuinely seemed to believe that I had some nefarious intention when I tried to show them a different way out.
    On some nights things were impossible, everyone refused to listen, and by the time we left the theater the ghost light had already been wheeled onstage and turned on. As we walked through the lobby we’d hear people complaining about how long it had taken them to exit, and how they couldn’t believe the theater didn’t have more doors. And then we’d laugh, cry and shake our heads as we went off to get late dinner.

Sexism

    Universal Truth: if a male and female usher are standing together, a patron in need of assistance will always approach the male employee. If two women or two men are standing together, they will ask the usher who is white. If both ushers are of the same race and gender, the patron will ask the one who is younger or thinner. It almost always works that way. People might think that sexism and ageism are dead, but when you work in a theater, you learn that’s not the case at all.
    At Phantom, patrons would sometimes completely ignore instructions I’d given them, only to comply immediately when a male colleague told them the exact same thing two seconds later. Likewise, there were times when I’d give them information and they’d look to a male usher for confirmation. They naturally thought that the guy standing next to me was my supervisor, even if he was a sub who had only been working for two weeks.
    I also had to contend with patrons who tried to be overly familiar with me. For some reason, both men and women often felt they had the right to grab me, put their arms around my shoulders or lean in close to ask questions. They absolutely never did the same to my male colleagues, and they were always very offended when I politely