But then, of course, the first thing I do when I get to work is take my clothes off. People at the theater see me most often in a robe and slippers, which is probably not the case at most jobs. Another peculiarity of being on Broadway is that my job requirements change drastically depending on the show. The constant, however, is this: No matter how I’m feeling that day, no matter what’s happening in my personal life, no matter how many performances of the same show I’ve done I think my highest tally is 488, which is a little under a year and a half, I have a responsibility to the audience to show up and do my job well—like it’s the first time, every time—especially with ticket prices being what they are these days.
I’m writing this in my dressing room during a matinee of my current show, You’re Welcome, America. My cue is approaching, so I’m going to go warm up. I like to do some push-ups and jumping jacks in my Condi suit and sensible heels so that I can enter with energy and purpose even though I’ve been sitting in my dressing room for an hour writing this article. Then I’ll hit the stage—but I’ll come back and continue as soon as I’m done, I promise. Please stand by.
Whew! I’m back now, a little sweaty and totally out of breath. Luckily, dear reader, I can type and pant at the same time. At the moment, being on Broadway means that I just entered George W. Bush’s conversation with the audience here at the Cort Theater as a naughty fantasy version of Condoleezza Rice. As embodied by the peerless Will Ferrell, Dubya reminisces about his days of thunder and I join him in a joyfully explicit appearance. We get a little carried away sometimes, and Will and I just came close to laughing on stage, though laughing isn’t my job.
That’s best left to the audience, and their presence and the immediacy of their reactions is another thing that makes being on Broadway not like any other job. I get instant feedback; constant progress reports. Right now there’s a lady in a black sweater sitting in the orchestra section, three rows back, and I adore her. I will never know her name or see her again, but she just screamed and shrieked with such soul-rattling laughter that I feel like I did my job today.
She wasn’t alone. I’ve just had the inimitable pleasure of making more than a thousand people laugh out loud, or LOL as the kids say. Since the play is a comedy, that is a very good thing. There may have been a few silent sourpusses or Republicans in the house, but on the whole we have magnificent audiences that seem to get the joke, and today’s crowd is no exception. People often make a big deal about reviews, and while I understand their function, my reviews happen in the same moment as the performance, for better or for worse. I've stood on a different stage in a different show and watched people get up and leave. Or sit and sleep. But that’s also part of the job.
So, being on Broadway is a job, just like any other job…any other job, that is, in which you get to play dress-up and live out your dreams and move people to laugh and cry and think. My job right now is to rub my butt on Will Ferrell, and I take that job very seriously. I have the rare privilege of working on Broadway, and I love it.