Story 68: The Origins of "Swan Lake", Ballet

(Note: I have no idea how the ballet of Swan Lake came to be commissioned)

(An office in 1800s Russia)

Ballet Theater Company Owner: Ah, Pyotr!  Come in, my friend!

Tchaikovsky: (Enters and sits in front of the owner’s desk) Thank you.  Did you listen to the music yet?

Owner: Did I ever!  It was amazing – haunting – moving – any complimentary adjective ending in “ing”!  And the tale couldn’t be more tragic: Romeo and Juliet meets enchanted women-birds!  And I love how our prima ballerina can dance not just one but two main roles!  I tell you, the audience will be weeping so much by the end of Act I, the tears can be used to fill the lake at the end of Act II!

Tchaikovsky: Thank you very much; it means a lot to me that your company will perform it.

Owner: But of course!  I will have you meet with our choreographer later today so you can give him some notes.

Tchaikovsky: Notes?

Owner: You know, where to have the dancers go and such, so his vision will match yours.  Just give me an idea: starting from Act I, tell me briefly what you want the dancers to be doing during each movement.

Tchaikovsky: Oh, well, in the beginning, Siegfried is being knighted, and he is happy about that, so he dances.

Owner: Yes, yes.

Tchaikovsky: His family, friends, and servants join him for a bit, but there is a section where it is only him dancing while everyone can just sit and watch, I suppose.

Owner: I see.

Tchaikovsky: Some ladies can dance with him at times, just to mix it up a little, if you want.

Owner: Perhaps.

Tchaikovsky: Then, the Evil Genius leads Siegfried to The Lake.

Owner: Oh yes, the oboe and harp bit!  So chilling.

Tchaikovsky: Yes, I gave myself goosebumps while I was writing it.  That is when all the swan-women make their entrance – they probably should be flapping their arms a lot so the audience knows they also are birds.

Owner: But aren’t they ladies at that point?

Tchaikovsky: They are, but they have been swans during the day for so long that they have started to identify as them.  Their costumes should reflect this mental state.

Owner: Hmmmmm….

Tchaikovsky: Odette then makes her grand entrance and has several solo pieces – I do not mind if the show stops dead multiple times for the ballerina to take her bows at the end of each of her dances.

Owner: Thank you – it happens frequently in our productions.

Tchaikovsky: Good, because between her dancing as Odette and dancing as Odile, I think this may happen about six times throughout the show.  Siegfried joins her on a few, so factor in his bows as well.

Owner: Not necessary – no one cares about the guy.

Tchaikovsky: All right, the choreographer can figure all that out.  For Act II, Siegfried’s mamma parades ladies from different countries in front of her son so he can choose one to marry – many showcases there.

Owner: As in –

Tchaikovsky: Group dances, individual dances, pas de deux, pas de trois, the whole deal.  Everyone else on stage sits and watches again.

Owner: Hm, I don’t like paying dancers to sit.

Tchaikovsky: Maybe you can rotate the performers?  Anyway, Odile and the Evil Genius make their grand entrance, and more solos and dances with Siegfried –

Owner: And literally show-stopping bows –

Tchaikovsky: Of course, until Siegfried mutely declares that he will marry her thinking that she is Odette, then it is painfully revealed that Odette is a separate person and he really is marrying her evil doppelganger.

Owner: How?

Tchaikovsky: How… what?

Owner: How is this revealed?  They’re played by the same dancer!

Tchaikovsky: I don’t know, have one of them behind a curtain or something!  The bottom line is, black swans and white swans dance, Odette eventually returns to the stage –

Owner: Argh, another solo.

Tchaikovsky: She dances with Siegfried, the Evil Genius either kills her or she kills herself, depending on which mood you are in, Siegfried is sad and wants to join her, and curtain.

Owner: You have me wondering now why the Evil Genius went through all this in the first place.  If he wanted Siegfried to marry Odile, shouldn’t he have led Siegfried to her instead of to Odette in Act I?  The boy seems to have a thing for swans, so what difference would it have made if Odile was there first?

Tchaikovsky: They are not swans!  They are women enchanted to be swans by day!

Owner: That’s an oddly specific curse – did you ever look into the Evil Genius’s backstory for his motivation?  I’m just curious.

Tchaikovsky: That is not the point!  The point is the music!  And the dance!  And the emotion!

Owner: And the money.

Tchaikovsky: The money helps.

Story 67: The Warrior Office Worker

            I used to have a hard time with my employees getting their work done.  Oh, they tried, their hearts were in the right place, but the bureaucracy, the clients, and the daily grind just got them down.  So I hired a warrior.

            I don’t mean a mental warrior, or a spiritual warrior, or even a peaceful warrior: I mean an actual warrior, with swords and everything (I got special approval from Legal and Security).  His attitude was great: every project was an enemy to be defeated, every telephone call was a battle, and every meeting was an opportunity for an inspiring speech.  Why, just recently, he was phenomenal on a conference call with one of our more “rambunctious” clients:

            Me: Maybe we can come to some kind of compromise here…

            Client: (Voice) No!  You either give me what I want, or our contract’s null and void!

            Warrior: What you want is immaterial.  What you need is life.  Life is all there is and all that is necessary: so it was and so it shall be forevermore.

            Client: (Voice) Who is this clown?  Is he your idiot nephew?

            Warrior: I am no rustic fool, nor a sibling’s simple offspring: I am the one will be coming to your domicile to destroy you.  My sword will be engraved with your name and the hour will be midnight.

            Client: (Voice) What –

            Warrior: The negotiations are over!

            Heh-heh, after Warrior defenestrated the phone, that client called back in five minutes and we got the deal we wanted.

            Warrior also was good with the copier/fax machine/nightmare when it failed to deliver: he usually was patient, but knew just where to slam it when it acted up, which was often.

            He was best with that last budget meeting, though:

            Me: So, sales have not been doing as well as desired, and yes, that arrow is pointing drastically downward over the past two quarters, but –

            Boss: But why shouldn’t I fire you?

            Me: Uh, well –

            (A flaming arrow then pierced the presentation screen)

            Warrior: That squiggle on that glowing cloth is nothing.  All that matters is the glorious struggle and the triumph of victory.

            Boss: Since that squiggle is the agony of defeat, and you damaged company property, you’re both fired.

            Warrior defended his honor and mine by then slapping our boss’s face with a gauntlet, so now poor Warrior is in jail and I joined the ranks of the job seekers after dealing with the Fire Department.  No worries, though: I have some needed time off, and Warrior is doing just fine with his unification of the prison gangs for better exercise routines in the yards.  He really was the best employee I ever had.

Story 66: Adventures in Plumbing

            The plumber arrived just in time.

            “Thank goodness you guys come on weekends,” the woman of the house led him to the only bathroom.  “It’s an almost-disaster in there.”

            “I’ve seen nearly everything in this business, ma’am,” he went past her into the room.  “Not much surprises – OH MY WORD!”

            He faced a pristine toilet.

            “This is worse than I feared!”

            “But I haven’t shown you – ”

            “Nope!”  He held up a hand.  “I can tell by its calm façade that this commode is hiding an abomination.”

            “You can tell just by looking at it?”

            “It’s always the clean, serene-appearing ones that mask the horrors.”  He knelt down in front of the toilet and put his ear next to the bowl.

            “Are you listening for leaks?”

            “Ssh: the plumbing’s speaking to me.”

            “Ohhhh….”  She didn’t quite know how to take that.

            He listened in a few more places, then stood and took the lid off the tank and gasped.

            “Have you put chemicals in here?!”

            “Well, yes, it was rather dirty.”

            “Never put chemicals in the tank ever again!  Swear it!”

            “I – I swear – ”

            “Good.”  He replaced the lid and lifted the seat.  Shuddering slightly, he turned to the homeowner.

            “I have to go out to the truck for a second.  I need – The Snake.”

            “Oh my, has it really come to that?”

            “It happens to the best of us, ma’am.”

            He retrieved The Snake from his truck that was blocking her driveway and marched back into the house, stiffening his spine and girding his loins for the ordeal that lay ahead.  The homeowner was still standing in the bathroom, staring confusedly yet sadly at the porcelain throne that had betrayed her.

            “Ma’am?”  She turned to him.  “It’s better if you’re not here to see this.  Things are about to get ugly.”

            “Of course.  Do what you must.”  She left.

            The battle raged for over an hour; there were heroes on both sides, and the losses were many.  When it was all over, the plumber emerged and went to the kitchen, where the homeowner was checking her e-mail.

            “Well?”  She asked, taking in his disheveled clothes and shaking hands.

            “I did all I could to save it,” he said, his voice cracking, “but I have been… defeated.”  He could barely choke out that last word in his humiliation.  “I’m going to have to install a brand-new toilet.”

            “I understand,” she said, bravely.

            “And new pipes.”

            “If that’s what it takes.”  She was wavering.

            “And it’ll have to be done in a separate visit.”

            “Confound it, man!”  She exploded at last; he took a step back.  “That toilet is needed today, do you hear me?!  Make it happen!”

            He blinked, pulled out his phone, and contacted headquarters.  “Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day – this is war.”

            He sprang into action and somehow had the entire installation completed by the end of the night, and that included a trip to the local home goods store to purchase a new toilet.  It was a feat never-before accomplished and never to be duplicated.  When it was all over, the homeowner awarded the plumber with a lovely check in exchange for a detailed invoice, and they parted as comrades-in-arms leaving the battlefield.  It was a sweet victory indeed, now that the thing could be flushed without fear for the first time in days.

           The plumber drove his mighty chariot off into the night, with the satisfaction of a job well done and the feeling that he would never truly be clean again.