Reflections

It's funny how a person's thoughts connect to each other though the framework of one's experiences. Most people probably do not have a direct neural connection between the thoughts of the Romulans breaking Code 2 and cans of Coleman fuel...but I do.

Let me explain.

My recent post comparing "old Shatner" with "old Kirk" got me thinking about on-camera makeup. This reminded me of when I was required to wear makeup while appearing as onscreen "talent" for a series of computer training videos. (More about that in a minute.) And that got me thinking about what a wide range of activities I've done for money over the years -- which included a couple of summers spent in toiling on an assembly line that cranked out cans of Coleman fuel.

There are some good stories to be told about those summers, I assure you. But those tales belong over in the historical blog (The Shy Man's Life, which has been ignored for far too long), not here.

My next book (currently scheduled for release in early 2015) will document my entire career path, but here's a bullet list of the things I've done to keep food on the table over the years:

• Magician
• Lawn care laborer
• Paperboy
• Vacuum cleaner salesman
• Coleman fuel cannery assembly line drone
• Disk jockey (jazz and country/western)
• Motivational training course salesman
• Lifeguard/Swim instructor
• Aircraft company tech writer
• Aerospace company procedures engineer
• Retail camera and electronics salesman/clerk
• Fast food clerk and fry cook
• Day laborer/contract office worker
• Masters swim team coach
• Self-help book author
• Classroom and video computer trainer
• Adult education instructor (dating, self-motivation, poetry)
• Energy company communications manager
• Contract technical writer/proposal manager
• College English and Math teacher
• Aerospace company proposal editor/facilitator
• Webcaster/videographer

I'm sure I've forgotten something along the way. But it's obvious that I've led a scattered and unfocused life to this point. The downside of this randomness is that it has not led to a large nest egg that would ensure my retirement could be filled with love boat cruises and jewel-encrusted trips to the Riviera. The upside is that I'll always have stories to tell and things I can write about.

Today's tale is about makeup.

Most of the computer training videos I shot did not require me to slather on the greasepaint. I just sat at a desk and yakked about software while the camera pointed in my general direction. As a certified geek, I was expected to look dorky, and the producers only asked that I not wear plaid or pinstripes that would freak out the camera.

But there was one gig where the customer wanted a more professional setup. They hired a cute girl as my "co-anchor", and brought in a full crew of lighting technicians, camera operators, and makeup professionals. They'd be cutting back and forth between myself and the hot babe, so they wanted me to look somewhat less hideous than I normally do. The makeup guy brought in a special razor to give me a closer shave, held a Pantone swatch card next to my face, nodded, and then hauled out his Revlon tackle box and to paint me up.

Once sufficiently spackled, I took my seat in front of the camera. They switched on the Klieg lights and proceeded to roll tape. The director shouted "Action!" and the camera zoomed in on the babe. "We're here today with computer expert Terry Heggy, who is going to demonstrate some advanced techniques using Microsoft Windows 98. Welcome, Terry!"

"Thanks, Heather. It's great to be here, and I'm excited to show you all the tips and shortcuts that can make your computer experience a lot more efficient and fun!"

But then the director yelled "Cut!" and motioned toward the makeup guy. They mumbled to each other for a moment, and then the makeup guy strolled over to me. "Um," he said, "We're getting some highlights we want to eliminate. Let me grab what I need and I'll be right back."

No big deal, I thought. My rugged chiseled cheekbones just needed a little more powder to take off the shine. It'll just take a second and then we'll be back in action.

But instead of powder, or even the petri dish full of fleshtone goo, he came walking back with a tub of black shoe polish. Yes, shoe polish.

It turns out the "highlight" was actually a bright spot on the top of my head, where my short hair was too thin to prevent reflections from the massive lights. The solution was to coat my head in bootblack so that the spaces between the hairs would absorb the light that was causing the problem.

By the time he finished, I not only felt like I was wearing a hat, but I thought I looked like an incomplete Al Jolson. It was ridiculous! But the cameraman and director assured me that I looked like Tom Selleck through the viewfinder, and that everything would be OK.

And they were right. The rest of the shoot went well, and the final product looked just fine during playback. Of course, the shoe polish made a bloody mess in my shower that evening when I tried to wash it off my head, but I suppose that's a small price to pay for Hollywood handsomeness.

Anyway, that's my one and only makeup story. And of course, it reminds me of a hundred other tales of drama and intrigue from similar experiences...and it also reminds me that I need to get all of those old training tapes digitized so they'll be forever preserved as learning aids for future generations of Windows 98 users. But those are things that will have to wait until later. For now, I'll just smile knowing that I have a ready-made solution for thinning hair problems if I need one. If anyone is interested, I can share more tales of unusual work occurrences in future posts. Otherwise, I expect to return to oddball graphics and unsolvable trivia contests in the coming weeks. Until then, don't forget your sunscreen, and have a great day!