What is a good colleague?

Schwarzwaldmädel PM

What makes the job I do so terribly difficult? Why is it possible to have a good day followed by a terrible day, depending on the mood of your colleagues? Why are artists so fickle; one day they are your friend, the next day, they seem that, if it were up to them, they would gladly put you on the next train to Auschwitz, were it possible? Why is it so difficult to have a real friend in the men’s chorus of Stadtheater Pforzheim, a friend that you know will not bad talk you behind your back, a friend that will defend you when times get rough, i.e., what I call ‘a friend.’

I know that a lot of the problems that I experience are my own. That only makes sense. If I were cool headed and logical enough, I would be able to see my work environment for what it is, a scene from Dangerous Liaisons, where every lowly court member is tripping over himself giving the others in his echelon bad press in order to further his rise in the social hierarchy. To have the philosophy, that, if I do a good job, someone will notice that good work in the asylum of the theater is turning out to be a really silly one. It appears that one only advances in the theater through seniority, talking yourself up to those who make decisions, and ripping apart your colleagues/competition. I am not good at any of those things.

Theater people suck, that’s all I have to say. And, the ones who are complete hacks are the worst—they know that the only way they will advance is by selling their shitty, snake oil at the top of their lungs while simultaneously stabbing everyone around them in the back. Unfortunately, theater people are no worse than anyone else, though. It just reminds me of what I wanted to be when I was young: a hermit. I have always felt alienated by my fellow man.