Dear Uncle Gary,
I’ve just stepped into a national tour as the second hair supervisor, replacing someone who bailed for another gig. It’s been one week, and already I’m caught between two camps. Those who can’t stand the lead supervisor, and the few who swear by her. The show’s been on the road for six months, and not a single wig has been washed, despite Equity rules requiring weekly maintenance. The supervisor injured her hand on opening night and hasn’t been able to do her full job since, but management refuses to replace her.
I’m trying to stay professional, but this feels like a sinking ship. Do I stick it out and finish the tour, or cut my losses before the wigs start crawling away?
Signed, Second Supervisor
Dear Second Supervisor,
You didn’t just walk into a tour, you walked into a slow-motion train wreck with a wig closet full of biohazards and a supervisor who’s half idol, half liability. And now you’re expected to keep it professional while the ship lists hard to starboard.
Let’s break this down.
First, the wigs. Six months without a wash? That’s not just gross, it’s a violation. Equity rules aren’t optional, and if management’s ignoring them, they’re gambling with health, safety, and liability. You’re not just catching stray drama, you’re catching the fallout of a system that’s already broken.
Second, the supervisor. She’s injured, she’s not performing her duties, and management won’t replace her. That’s not loyalty, it’s negligence. And it’s putting you in a position where your name, your reputation, and your sanity are on the line.
So here’s the real question: Are you staying out of duty, or out of fear?
If you believe you can make a difference, document the violations, advocate for proper hygiene, and protect the cast, then stay. But only if you’re backed by a union rep, a paper trail, and a spine of steel.
If you’re being used as a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, walk away. You didn’t sign up to be the fall guy for someone else’s dysfunction. And leaving doesn’t make you a quitter, it makes you someone who knows their worth.
Whatever you choose, don’t go quietly. Speak up. Protect yourself. And remember: you’re not just doing hair. You’re holding the line between professionalism and chaos.
With admiration for your grit and a strong whiff of disinfectant, Uncle Gary
