Me with some severed heads. Like you do.Much to the dismay of everyone who likes my #overheardatwork tweets and bizarre opera stories, I have only four more days of work left at the Met. After that, there will be no more photographing neon boobs and severed heads. No more sneaking down to the props room to pet the sparkly blue Cadillac. No more watching Placido Domingo lip-sync, getting flashed by Anna Netrebko, or watching Bryn Terfel play Angry Birds while dressed as a Norse god.
Except for the time I fell through a piece of scenery and nearly died (<–not hyperbole), the Met has been a fabulous place to work, and I will miss it. As a tribute, I give you a collection of some of my favorite Met quotes. Enjoy, and cross your fingers that I find a suitably strange part-time job soon.
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“I hear we have to drain the blood pool every night.”
“Well, otherwise it might grow mold.”
“We want to wrap the dancing girl in mummy wrapping, okay?”
“The stripper’s legs are missing, but everything else is working.”
“This is, like, a love hexagon. Triangles are for amateurs.”
“Oh, that was MORTIFYING, wasn’t it? To have the head of the design department be legally blind?”
“The pimento in the martini is not responding.”
“You can unpark the nipples.”
“I liked the self-immolation, but the rest of it was kind of boring.”
“Monkey looks too fake; refurbish.”
“If I needed to lift a flying mermaid, could I do that with eighth-inch cables?”
“You can come in. I’ll stop taking my pants off for a minute.”
“In terms of the collapse of the snake, we’d like to see it at agonizing speed. Would you like to put the sword in its neck first?”
Random dude: (pokes his head into my office and stares intently at the ceiling for about 30 seconds
Me: “Hi, can I help you?”
Random dude: “I think I left my hammer in your ceiling last week.”
“We’re going to try to fly the jungle, but first we need to know how much it weighs.”
“The lady’s boobs aren’t working. Oh no, wait, they are, they’re just really dim.”
Stagehand 1: “The minute I wake up, I’m, like, THINKING. I can’t turn it off.
Stagehand 2: “Yeah, god, I have that same problem.”
“MY HAND IS ON FIRE!”
“Two super sluts downstage, please.”
“How’s our lactating maid today?”
“Would you like me to call this color Mussolini, Hitler, or Stalin?”
“Can we bring the dragon in so it looks like it’s going to eat the prompter?”
“Um… can you raise your hand if you’re wearing a costume right now?”
Person dressed as a monk: “Hey, do you need a monk?”
Me: “No, I’ve already got one, thanks.”
“Sorry, I had to go watch some shirtless men covered in dirt hit some anvils for a minute.”
“… and then the cadaver spontaneously disintegrated…”
“Operator who’s doing tiny fog down by the eyeball, are you there?”
“Jack the Ripper to stage left, please!”
“Wanna fight?” –guy in the Met elevator carrying an extra-strength bottle of Fabreze to guy carrying four swords and guy carrying two leaf blowers
Me with the dead bull from Carmen“Is there room for a three-dimensional nose behind the house?”
“We are investigating the possibility of the burning hat scenario you mentioned. This should not be a problem.”
“Thank you for the sex club. This should help with the budget.”
“Can you give us any information about exactly what you did regarding the speaker in the baby?”
“Please print the exploding chandeliers.”
“The money has to be boob-friendly.”
“We’re going to get rid of the body. Can someone open the trunk of the car, please?”
“Caution: no floor beyond this door.”
—–
Bye, Met Opera. Thanks for the extraordinarily bizarre memories.
You have totally had the coolest job ever!! Sooo jealous.
Legitimate LOLs, Cherry. I'll miss these!!!!!! Love yous
Wow, I can't even process. So many references to boobs! Sounds like you've got dialogue snippets for a lifetime from this job. =)