Gary writes in with a handy tip:
I’ve been a set PA for a while but just started my first job as an office PA. Your tip on restocking paper by turning the box upside down has already come in handy several times–even got to show off by demonstrating for the other (more experienced) office PA. Anyway, I’m in charge of the episodic binders for the UPM, production coordinator & also sort of the assistant production coordinator, which means I spent hours and hours this past week shredding the contents of used binders, then printing new covers and spine labels–all fairly easy, if mundane.
That is until I got to the part where I had to slide the new spine labels into that tiny 1-inch strip of plastic. No matter how narrow I cut the label, it would, without fail, crinkle before it made it even halfway down the spine. I was on the verge of ripping out my own hair/eyes. I thought there must be a better way.
Obviously, a sturdier card stock would have been ideal, but all I had to work with was printer paper…and some wooden coffee stirrers I found in the kitchen when I went back for my second procrastinatory string cheese. Anyway, this email is dragging and I’m sure you’re busy. Basically, I ended up taping two coffee stirrers together, then folding a tiny pocket at the end of each spine label, secured on the very edge with a small piece of tape. I used the extended stirrer to slide the label down to the bottom of that stupid plastic spine and then removed the stirrer. Voilà!
This small, small, dreadfully mundane feat filled me with such joy, such a pathetically exuberant sense of success that I had to share it. And I couldn’t share it with my friends because, well, it’s binder spines. So I thought I’d tell you and if you have any less macgyver-y ideas for next time, or if you feel like passing my stragegy along to the next spine-struggler, cool.
First of all, this is a great tip. We’ve all run into this problem, and it’s super annoying. But his story illustrates a larger point–
What You Do Matters
About a hundred years ago, (now) Saint Josemaría Escrivá was a parish priest at a church that had been built in the middle ages. He loved to take visitors on tours of the church, showing off the architecture and admiring the beautiful stained glass windows. He’d take them to the top the steeple, explaining how the built the tallest structure in the town without modern tools and equipment. At the top of the bell tower, he’d tell his guests to lean out the window, to admire the masonry on the underside of the window sill. As they appreciated the intricate stonework, he’d point out how high up they were; no one on the ground could possibly see up here. And none of the maintenance workers who’d come up to repair the bells or whatever would have any reason to lean out the window and look under the sill.
“This anonymous stonemason crafted these bricks with as much care as if they were the keystone in the entrance-way arch,” Josemaría would say, “knowing that the only person who would ever see them was himself.”{{1}}
No one in the audience is going to see Gary’s binders. In fact, there’s a very good chance his boss is never going to look at them ever again.
And yet, Gary took the time to do them right. You can take a certain amount of satisfaction from simply doing a job right. And it’ll help you get through the day if you can find joy in the little things.
There is a practical aspect to this, as well. Your boss may not notice this particular instance of attention to detail, but if you make it a habit, they will start to recognize the pattern. Plus, it’s a good habit; meticulousness is a useful skill for writers, cinematographers, editors, costume designers, and… well, pretty much everyone on a film or TV show, from PA to producer.
Get in the habit now, and you’re likely to retain it later in your career.
[[1]]”And God.” Obviously, he’s a priest, but this isn’t a religious website, and it’s not really relevant to the point here.[[1]]
