On set, they have a craft service department, whose job it is to make sure that the actors and crew have all the snacks they need to endure a twelve to sixteen hour day without losing their mind and storming off the set. If Karl Marx had ever worked on a film set, he would’ve no doubt called Craft Services the “opiate of the masses.”
In a production office, we don’t have the luxury of an entire department devoted to keeping us fed between meals. Instead, we have me… and the other PA.
In our fridge, there are more varieties of milk than there are caves in Tennessee: 2%, soy, Lactaid, French vanilla, half and half, soy creamer.
I can’t even begin to quantify our nut-stravaganza. It is EPIC.
Unlike most tasks that land on my desk, crafty shopping has no end. I will never be able to cross it off my to-do list. It is perpetual. It is never-ending. Craft service shopping is like painting the Mackinac Bridge.
That’s probably why it annoys me so much. I don’t mind the shopping. I don’t mind all of the specific requests. I’m annoyed by the fact that I can never finish. Never ever ever. I think Bill Murray expresses my feelings best–