The difference between amateur and professional theatre

What is "volunteering"?

First published 9 August 2022

One Friday night a couple of months ago, the phone rang. It was someone I knew from amateur theatre. He was putting on a show and the decor was made up of "flats". These are lightweight "walls", decorated appropriately, which are placed on the stage to simulate a location in the play. They had been constructed in a theatre workshop and needed to be carried across a courtyard into the theatre and fixed in place. Not a big job, but big enough. Half an hour. Lightweight though flats are, the caller said he had "done his back in" and could I travel 30 km into town on the next day to help move the flats across the courtyard?

I told him my car was in repair and that the only way I could be there, early on the Saturday morning, was if I walked to the station, took the train, and public transport once I reached the city. Could he not come out to where I live and pick me up? The caller demurred. No, he could not come out and pick me up. The call ended.

I seethed. I don't think it was an over-reaction. But a plea to help out that was met with cogent reasoning why not, couldn't be resolved by a half-way house that involved a bit of inconvenience for me, and a bit of inconvenience for him. I told him so in an e-mail and said, "He has a bloody nerve." Since then, apart from a reply - "Forget I asked", whose curtness belied a subliminal addition that I shall leave to the reader's imagination and certainly didn't seem to say, "I'm sorry" - we haven't spoken. Not a word. So, that was that.

Back in 2019, I was invited to be half of the cast of a two-hander by Harold Pinter - his play "The Lover". I thought it was a good play and was keen to take part, hand-me-down though the part was - the director's first choice had other things to do. So, it would transpire, did the director. A lunch was arranged at the other half of the cast's home and details discussed. One of the details was that, for two of the six weeks before the play would be put on, the director planned to go to Japan to watch rugby. Two out of six weeks. And, who did he plan to insert as the director for those two weeks? He didn't yet know, but he'd find someone. In the tight-knit (don't forget the "k") circle that is amateur theatre, it is not the actor's place to concern himself with who his director is to be, after all. Not for a mere one-third of the rehearsal schedule.

There was a message group that I was added to - me and the other two parties concerned. It was unclear to me when the first rehearsal was scheduled. So I asked. No reply. For 24 hours there was no reply. I don't know when other people expect an answer to a business enquiry on a dedicated message channel, but I think 24 hours is pushing it. I sent another message: "I'm out." If a simple enquiry as to when we're rehearsing gets ignored and the director is too busy watching rugby to direct the play that he is ... directing, then someone's priorities lay elsewhere. And so, therefore, did mine.

These two occurrences are referenced in the following, which was written in June 2022 after I'd spoken to someone I'd hitherto admired about how theatre companies treat volunteers. Mostly, it's by showering them with praise, earned or otherwise; but not always. When I did front of house for a production in June, one party I ushered to their seats comprised the two individuals I spoke of above, together as chance would have it. They spoke not a word to me and in fact regarded me as were I something they'd picked up on their shoe. I'll leave the reader to ponder the article.

Volunteering

What is a ‘volunteer’? 

NOUN

A person who freely offers to take part in an enterprise or undertake a task.

A person who freely enrols for military service rather than being conscripted, especially a member of a force formed by voluntary enrolment and distinct from the regular army.

A plant that has not been deliberately planted. (I didn't know.)

A person who works for an organisation without being paid.

A person to whom a voluntary conveyance or disposition is made.

What is ‘to volunteer’? 

VERB

Freely offer to do something.

Offer (help) freely.

Say or suggest something without being asked.

Commit (someone) to a particular undertaking, typically without consulting them.

Work for an organisation without being paid.

It’s interesting that, as a verb, ‘volunteer’ can mean putting someone else forward, without their consent. But, in all other senses, ‘volunteer’ has the connotation of putting oneself forward, to offer help, to contribute, to be a part of a project or organisation and to ask no recompense for that. What none of the definitions contains, however, is any indication of WHY a volunteer would volunteer. That is the subject of this article and, because it’s not inherent in the definition of the word itself, is of its very nature a subject of speculation.

A volunteer will commonly respond to a call for volunteers. The organisation needs a job done, and asks if anyone is prepared to do the job, without receiving any pay or other form of remuneration for doing so. It calls on its membership, or on members of the public outside its membership, to join with them in achieving the project.

However, there need not be a call for volunteers: in that case the volunteer makes an unsolicited offer of assistance, which the organisation can then take into consideration and decide whether or not it needs the help that is offered.

Hence, volunteering can be solicited or unsolicited. And, in either case, it may be declined or it may be accepted. To that extent, volunteering is the same as applying for remunerated work: whilst most remunerated work transpires as the recognition of a need within a commercial organisation, an advertisement for someone to fulfil that need, an interview process and a selection of the best candidate for the job, it can sometimes be the candidate him or herself recognising the need, or asking whether the need exists, that leads to the need being identified by the organisation itself, and the candidate being engaged. Whichever is the case, there is a supposition on the part of the candidate that he or she wishes to do the work in question and the organisation wishes to have them do that work: there is mutual willingness. If the organisation has only a limited need for the work being done, it may have to disappoint those who offer their labour but who are deemed less qualified to do the work; this is a consideration that may apply to both remunerated work and to volunteer work, and the question that I wish to raise in this context is: should it?

A commercial organisation must run on commercial lines, and its prime two aims are to maximise its income whilst minimising its outgoings; it cannot therefore afford to have more wage-earners do a particular task than are needed for that task. That, at least is the theory. It is a theory that gets confused when large organisations seem quite willing to pay unwarranted bonuses to high management, yet seek to squeeze the pay of their lowly workers, with the result that keeping the wages of workers to a minimum appears to be rewarded with hefty ‘thank you’s’ to those management who succeed in keeping wages low. But it happens.

But, what of voluntary work, which is not paid for? Surely such constraints are not at play when a volunteer volunteers his services to a voluntary organisation. What is it, then, that influences the organisation in its decision to accept or decline the services offered?

Let us take the example of a theatre group. A theatre group has outgoings, unless they rejoice in the happiest of circumstances, where a theatre is offered to them free of charge, lighting and sound equipment are loaned free of charge, costumes made free of charge, and so forth. What outlays it incurs are recouped through the sale of tickets to its performances and, the theory goes, the better the performance is, the more tickets will be sold. However, it's a theory that does not always hold true in reality: shows involving children recruited for their boundless enthusiasm can require a high degree of understanding and consideration of their youth, inexperience and innocent faux pas from the mums, dads, aunts, uncles and Uncle Tom Cobbly and alls who form the audience, and yet make a positive mint in terms of income; well-acted emotion and depth of interpretation of classic theatre from centuries ago by mature, devoted actors can end up losing a mint for any number of reasons, from the perceived incomprehensibility of the text, or unfamiliarity with the play, to poor publicity. So that, whether or not a volunteer’s contribution will or will not ensure the performance’s financial success is very much in the balance. So, on what criterion does a theatre group decide to accept or to decline a volunteer’s offer of help?

Many will respond that, whilst the financial success of a show may be dependent on any number of factors, of which some are outside the organiser’s control, the choice is made on the basis of an endeavour to produce the best possible show that is achievable using the resources that are feasibly available. In choosing the actors, auditions are held and those who prove their ability at audition are selected to make up the cast. In the matters of technical assistance, costume-making, manning the house or back-stage assistance, the bar is not set quite so high as for the players. Fundamentally, the prime requirement is whether one can do the task required of one at all, and be there when it needs doing. More than that is not demanded. And yet, even then, many theatre groups struggle to ensure there are adequate staff to collect tickets, move scenery and even produce plays; some even struggle to fill parts with cast. At that point, they ask. They ask people they know who have not hitherto been involved to get involved, because ‘they’re needed’. At which point, the nature of the volunteering ceases to be volunteering, but is rather more ‘heeding the call’. Given a choice, many volunteers who are called upon to fill a need will not have hitherto volunteered because they were otherwise occupied or didn’t want to be involved. Their will is turned; generally they meet the need gladly. But they don’t do so as willingly as when they volunteer ‘unsolicited’. It’s in their human nature.

I’ve been involved in many capacities in many theatre productions, as actor, producer, director, front of house, stage manager, set builder, driver of a van. Sometimes I was asked, sometimes I volunteered unsolicited. Sometimes gladly, sometimes reluctantly. And sometimes I declined. Declining one’s help when one is asked for it comes as a rebuff, especially when it comes accompanied by the reasons why one has declined. Yet, two occasions on which I declined of recent date, for which I believe I had fairly good reasons to decline, have been met with disdain. This is unfortunate since it has of late been impressed on me that those who volunteer their unsolicited services have no right to feel disdain when they, for their part, are declined: a volunteer must understand that it is the quality of the show that prevails and, if they’re not up to the mark, their services are not wanted.

Some time ago, I came to a conclusion about amateur, as opposed to professional, theatre. It could be that I was sadly mistaken in this, and there will be those who disagree, but what it boiled down to was the motivation that lies beneath the desire to take part in a theatre performance. Because, whilst the desire of the organiser is primarily to put on a good show, the best it can, and, if at all possible, to cover its costs and perhaps even make a profit, the desire of the volunteer lies elsewhere. A professional show may typically have a rehearsal period of three weeks prior to going up; that of an amateur show is more likely to stretch over three months. The professional is aiming at putting the show up in as short a period as possible, because rehearsal brings in no income, only sold shows do that; whilst the same consideration applies to amateur theatre, many volunteers offer their services in order to access the circle of theatre aficionados whom they will socialise with during those three months. Professional theatre is a professional occupation; amateur theatre is a social activity. Amateurs are cognisant, for the most part, that they must attain a certain standard in order to gain access to that social circle; but to what extent are amateur theatre organisers cognisant of the social need they fulfil when setting up their projects? Many are; some less so. Declining the unsolicited services of a volunteer in a context that is essentially one of ‘social contact’ instils despondency in the hearts of those who volunteer. I believe that that is counter-intuitive, for, while many may volunteer because they feel they have a positive contribution to make, others may do so because they feel a need for involvement and social intercourse. Never in the history of humankind has this need been more prevalent in society than at this time, as it struggles to meet the inherent need of its members for social interaction, whilst operating under a lowering threat of deadly infection. Without question, amateur theatre faces a host of unprecedented challenges as we continue through this pandemic.

And so, there is no judgment to be levelled at the ‘professionally minded amateur theatre groups’, just a plea to make to them: to consider the social intercourse that their activities offer and to endeavour to include all those who, solicited or unsolicited and with good grace, volunteer their help; failing which, to incorporate as professional theatre companies and see how far they manage to achieve the heights of excellence to which they aspire – without voluntary assistance along the way.