A Strategic Plan

by Ross Mueller

  JILL: You can’t just rely on ticket sales. We need sponsors, if we do this, we have to make it fucking good! My sister and I used to organise the Sunday afternoons. It was steaming. Those gigs were … great. Simple. Bands on the stage and drinks in the foyer. We just wanted to be in the room.

  ANDREW: This room?

  JILL: This room. This crowded dance floor. Crash barriers. Screaming our lungs out. Crowd-surfing. Getting carried all the way to the back and then crawling through the legs—get up the front. Do it all again. The floor is bouncing. Actually bending. It’s so loud, nobody can hear. So loud you don’t even know if it is your laughter. Your voice. Your life. One body. One soul. A snake. Smashing and bleeding and—not even realising you’re cut until you go home. In here—it didn’t hurt so much. Not for a couple of hours. We lived for the weekend. If you’re going to do this … do it properly … Festoon lights and food trucks. Outdoor table tennis. A whole two days, no—three days and nights of new music.

  ANDREW: And all of it programmed by you.

  JILL: Hold it a second—

  ANDREW: You wanna be a producer? I’ll teach you everything I know. Let’s turn this place up to—

  He writes ‘11’ on the board.

  JILL: What’s double ‘I’ mean?

  ANDREW: No, that’s eleven. [Heavily underlining on the board] ‘Eleven’.

  He drops the whiteboard marker. When it hits the floor it sounds like a guitar lead getting plugged into an amplifier.

  Real life is in demand!

  The buzz of an amp coming to life.

  This summer. I believe … I can see it. Core business equals ‘excitement’! Come on!

  Tambourine and kick drum.

  Local groups! New music! Staffing needs? Artists who deserve attention! Gimme some bass and B3 Hammond! Yeah!

  Bass and B3 Hammond organ.

  My scoping vision for our future? Arse-kicking live music comes back to Staccato. How the fuck does this sound?

  JILL: Could be shit.

  Tom-tom roll and bass kicks in.

  ANDREW: A sonic exorcism! A music-led recovery! Festival of youth music called: ‘Summer Fun’!

  JILL: What the fuck is that? / ‘Summer fucking Fun’?

  Two guitars.

  ANDREW: First draft. Come on—it’s outdoors—in the sunlight.

  JILL: I’m not programming some shitbag show called ‘Summer Fun’. It’s gotta sound like the vibe you wanna bring.

  ANDREW: ‘Reverberation’!

  JILL: Are you trying to trigger me?

  ANDREW: ‘Sound Check’.

  JILL: The ‘Sound Check’ Festival …?

  ANDREW: I’ve heard worse. Until we find the right name, let’s just call it our …

  JILL: ‘Strategic Plan.’

  ANDREW: Oh. That’s good … It is subversive. It is zeitgeist! It is—

  JILL: Fucking terrifying—

  ANDREW: Let’s go!

  Long vocal and full band and tinnitus and then—lights flash to blinders and darkness.

  Music in the darkness.

  SCENE NINE: MISSION STATEMENT

  After the honeymoon. Hot January.

  Gentle State Government phones from adjoining offices ring at random throughout this scene.

  Grey lights up on a nondescript meeting room at the Road Traffic Authority. There is a circular table, the same roller chairs and a water cooler. A bin and a large conference flip board with permanent markers. No windows.

  LINDA is alone in the space. She claps her hands. The lights come on. She is making final adjustments to the placement of the items in the room. She is almost rehearsing meeting ANDREW.

  ANDREW appears in the room, wearing Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

  LINDA: How did you get in here?

  ANDREW: I think I’m supposed to be here—

  LINDA: Nobody is supposed to be here.

  ANDREW: No—the young woman—

  LINDA: Calm down.

  ANDREW: Linda?

  LINDA: Stand back.

  ANDREW: No—

  LINDA: I know jiujitsu.

  ANDREW: We are supposed to be meeting today.

  LINDA: How do you know my name?

  ANDREW: I’m Andrew.

  LINDA: I can see your legs.

  ANDREW: Yes—it’s hot outside.

  LINDA: The air is cool inside—

  ANDREW: We don’t have air conditioning at Staccato.

  LINDA: Why not?

  ANDREW: We’re—a not-for-profit.

  LINDA: Yes, I know. I’m on the board.

  ANDREW: You are Linda.

  LINDA: Correct.

  ANDREW: Should we—shake hands?

  LINDA: Are you Hawaiian?

  ANDREW: No.

  LINDA: Where did you get your shirt?

  ANDREW: Newtown …

  LINDA offers her hand.

  LINDA: Andrew—we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot—let’s shake hands.

  They shake hands.

  Normally they ring to tell me there is a visitor, it’s a security thing—did you sign in?

  ANDREW: I signed in.

  LINDA: Nothing personal.

  ANDREW: No.

  LINDA: Just keeping the public away from the management. Safety first. So you’re the musician.

  ANDREW: Director of Music. Co-CEO.

  LINDA: Simon said you’re an old musician.

  ANDREW: Silly Simon.

  Lights go to grey. LINDA moves like Peter Garrett. Lights back on.

  LINDA: What instrument did you used to play?

  ANDREW: I still play bass. Guitar. Keyboards. Whatever.

  LINDA: But now you’ve got a real job. We employ you.

  ANDREW: Yes. But I still play every now and then. It’s kind of important. It gives the young people an indication of—pathways.

  LINDA: So they end up like you?

  ANDREW: How did you get involved with the board?

  LINDA: We know each other. He’s going to be a powerful local member.

  ANDREW: Simon’s going to be a politician?

  LINDA: At last. Somebody to vote for.

  ANDREW: What kind of music do you like?

  LINDA: No. My calling is Human Resources.

  ANDREW: Looks like it’s—pretty loud.

  LINDA: Do you know anything about building roads? No. And yet you use them every day. Isn’t that fascinating? So many people in the community simply forget just how often they use roads. Taxi drivers don’t. Uber do. Did Simon ride with you?

  ANDREW: He said he’d meet me here.

  LINDA: Colin is nice. Soft hands. He used to be a middle-distance runner.

  ANDREW: Didn’t know that.

  LINDA: I compete in triathlons. I keep going until I vomit. Ever pushed yourself to that point of exhaustion?

  ANDREW: I’ve always wanted to run a marathon.

  LINDA: What’s stopping you?

  Beat.

  I’ve brought this big notepad thing in. We may not even use it, but I think it could be good if we want to make some notes. Big notes.

  ANDREW: This is just a catch-up / right?

  LINDA: Water? It is essential to rehydrate. Wait here. I’ll be back in no time.

  LINDA exits. ANDREW checks his phone. Straightens his shirt. Sits. Finds the most casual pose he can establish. There is a low-pitched hum in the room. Lights go to grey.

  SIMON enters. SIMON has his arm in a sling. Lights flick on. SIMON is surprised to see ANDREW in the room.

  SIMON: Did you do that?

  ANDREW: I don’t know— What happened [to your arm]?

  SIMON: Oh … a dog was unleashed.

  ANDREW: When did you get back?

  SIMON: I just took the public holidays. Are we in the right room?

  ANDREW: This is where she brought me.

  SIMON: Young woman at the front? Looks like a cordless phone—her face—you know? [Regarding the room] Inspirational.

  ANDREW: You ever run a marathon?

 
SIMON: What for?

  ANDREW: There’s a fire outside.

  SIMON: Didn’t see it.

  ANDREW: The sky is black.

  SIMON: Disagree.

  ANDREW: Nice cufflink.

  SIMON: Jodie. Spends my money like a Doomsday Prepper. Competing with her sister. Finds shiny things—leaves them on my dressing table. I would shoot myself in the mouth if I had to come in here every day.

  ANDREW: Me too.

  SIMON: You think about that sort of thing a lot?

  ANDREW: No.

  SIMON: So why did you say it?

  ANDREW: I thought you were joking.

  SIMON: Jokes.

  SIMON sits at the table and makes a note—completes his writing and looks ANDREW in the eye. Pause. SIMON gets a text message. Finds his spectacles. Puts them on and accesses the message. Smiles at what he reads. Types a reply with his index finger.

  Bought myself a Christmas present. Jag. XER Sport. [Putting his spectacles away] Gotta pay the rego. Might just duck out and … You don’t mind, do you …?

  Pause.

  No. No … I’m joking.

  Pause.

  Pay on the way out. This won’t take long. Linda’s got a few things she wants to go through. Colin back on deck?

  ANDREW: Next week.

  SIMON: Nice break.

  ANDREW: Lucky for some.

  SIMON: He works long hours. Lot of time in lieu banked up.

  ANDREW: We all work long / hours, Simon.

  SIMON: Yes alright, so what’s the problem?

  ANDREW: No problem. It just makes it difficult.

  SIMON: You’ve got Jill. Is she happy? Is Jill happy?

  ANDREW: Yes.

  SIMON: Did you give her the extra week off?

  ANDREW: She doesn’t want the extra week off.

  SIMON: Did her father die this time?

  ANDREW: She didn’t say anything.

  SIMON: No mention of a dead father?

  Lights to grey.

  ANDREW: She’s working on the festival, new lease on life.

  SIMON: And where is the budget for this fiesta coming from?

  ANDREW: It’s selling really well—

  SIMON: But where’s the budget line?

  ANDREW: Do you have a problem with me?

  SIMON: Do you have a problem with me?

  ANDREW: I asked first.

  SIMON: Do you have a problem with Colin?

  ANDREW: No.

  SIMON: That’s not what Colin said.

  LINDA enters with folders and water bottles—lights on.

  LINDA: It’s a / madhouse!

  SIMON: Bloody hell. That’s an entrance.

  LINDA: Start of the year, always the same, everybody covering for everybody else, don’t know why they put me in charge, but they did, so you found the room okay—?

  SIMON: / Yes. Of course. Congratulations.

  ANDREW: No worries.

  LINDA: Thanks for coming cross-town, Andy. My calendar! Terrifying.

  SIMON: Ando says they’re hopelessly understaffed.

  LINDA: Hopelessly?

  SIMON: Everybody’s on holidays apparently.

  ANDREW: / Linda—really—it’s fine.

  SIMON: They’re under siege. Did you see the shirt?

  LINDA: Yes.

  SIMON: Hear about the bushfire?

  LINDA: The what?

  SIMON: Ando says it’s out of control. We’re all going to die.

  LINDA: We’re not going to die, are we, Andy?

  ANDREW: Hope not.

  SIMON: Can we get that in writing?

  LINDA: Said the lawyer.

  She laughs. SIMON watches her like he’s observing sperm. Beat.

  Hawaiian.

  ANDREW: There really is a fire … Five, six trucks …The sky is black. Do you want to come outside / and have a look?

  SIMON: Is that what you want us to do? Go and look at a bushfire?

  LINDA: As a group? Like a band?

  SIMON: Take a selfie for Facey?

  ANDREW: No.

  LINDA: Good, because my morning is gridlocked. Shall we get this underway? Ready, set, go! But before we begin I think we’d all like to show our respect and acknowledge the traditional custodians of this land, of elders past and present, on which this event takes place.

  SIMON: Amen.

  LINDA: Amen?

  SIMON: Reflex action.

  ANDREW: Is this an event?

  SIMON: You don’t want to acknowledge the original Australians, Ando?

  ANDREW: Yeah, no, no, yes.

  SIMON: See …? Doesn’t take much. Reconciliation.

  LINDA: A daily action.

  SIMON: If my phone rings, I have to take it.

  LINDA: Put it on silent.

  SIMON: Can you do that?

  LINDA: What kind is it?

  SIMON: It’s a smartphone.

  LINDA takes SIMON’s phone and tries to put it on silent. Drops the phone on the table in a flourish of success.

  LINDA: Annnd—that’s how we roll at the RMS.

  SIMON: You’ll have to show me what you pushed.

  LINDA: Like your cufflink.

  SIMON: Christmas.

  LINDA: How’s Jodie?

  SIMON: Great. Her family—just wonderful. Father has a garage full of Lambos and a little Maserati. Big celebration. Quality people. We had them all down to the vineyard and they brought their pets … You know? Played tennis. Not with the animals, but you know? There was an incident and it is healing. You? Yours? Massive?

  LINDA: Mum’s got a new boyfriend.

  SIMON: What’s he do?

  LINDA: Final year Law at UTS.

  SIMON: Good God.

  LINDA: I know. Showed me his student card.

  SIMON: UTS.

  Beat.

  LINDA: Oh, you! I love it! So … Andy. How are you? Big year ahead!

  ANDREW: Think so.

  LINDA: Not sure what you’re doing?

  ANDREW: Yeah, no. The board signed off on the Annual Program.

  SIMON: Lot of plans.

  ANDREW: It’s our Annual Program.

  LINDA: These planned activities?

  ANDREW: The Annual Program is what we’re doing in order for us to achieve the goals and objectives outlined in your Strategic Plan.

  LINDA: ‘Outcomes cannot exist until a plan has been executed.’

  SIMON takes his pen and writes something.

  Haven’t heard that one before?

  SIMON: No. Just got a little Jag. Thought of a new number plate.

  LINDA: Right.

  SIMON: No, it was good—I was joking! It’s great … ‘Outcomes—are plans’?

  LINDA: ‘Outcomes cannot exist until a plan / has been executed.’

  SIMON: ‘… until a plan has been executed’ … Who said that?

  LINDA: My desk calendar. Mum gave it to me for Christmas.

  ANDREW: Your mother gave you a desk calendar?

  LINDA: Yes.

  SIMON: Something you can use every day.

  Pause.

  Thank you.

  LINDA starts laughing.

  LINDA: Oh—I can never tell with you, Simon.

  SIMON: At uni I could quote whole scenes of ‘Monty Python’ … I can’t now. Used to have a photographic memory. They called me ‘Nikon’. After the camera. It wasn’t racist. It was a term of affection. What’d they call you at university, Andrew?

  ANDREW: I didn’t go to university.

  SIMON: Oh, that’s right. I forgot.

  LINDA: [to ANDREW] So. All funded? These plans of yours.

  ANDREW: They’re not plans of mine, Linda.

  LINDA: But you are proud of this funding application—document—thing?

  ANDREW: It is going to be a National Benchmark.

  LINDA: And you’re happy with that?

  ANDREW: Aren’t you?

  LINDA: This delivery schedule—wow. Lot of KPIs to hit in six months. Significant increase in metrics for everybody. Is that a new co
ncern?

  SIMON: Why do you keep changing the goalposts?

  ANDREW: How am I doing that?

  LINDA: Forcing a junior employee to produce a whole festival by herself.

  ANDREW: She has been looking for a challenge for some time.

  SIMON: Sounds like you’re setting her up to fail.

  ANDREW: She’s not going to fail.

  LINDA: No specific budget allocation. She doesn’t need the extra pressure.

  ANDREW: Who told you that?

  LINDA: Does it matter?

  ANDREW: I’m not setting anybody up. I don’t do that.

  SIMON: No. You rescue dogs.

  ANDREW: Sorry. Can I confirm—what exactly is this meeting about?

  LINDA: Catch-up. Just a catch-up.

  ANDREW: He told me there was nothing to prepare.

  SIMON: Calm down.

  LINDA: Your probation is almost up.

  ANDREW: So—this is my review? / Is this my review?

  LINDA: You’ve got this massive focus on live music.

  ANDREW: Yes. Well, music is our—reason for being.

  LINDA: Are we comfortable with that?

  ANDREW: It is in the original Strategic Plan that was written by us—by all of us at Planning Day. And so, we are kicking this New Year off with—the Second City Festival.

  SIMON: What’s your point?

  ANDREW: You cannot sell our building and you will not go online.

  SIMON: ‘Our’ building?

  LINDA: That’s not on the agenda for this meeting—

  ANDREW: Well, the staff think it needs to be.

  SIMON: ‘The staff’?

  ANDREW: That’s right.

  SIMON: Acting in isolation from the membership base. Are we, Drewster?

  LINDA: Why did you force Jill to write a resignation letter?

  SIMON: Yes, why did you do that?

  ANDREW: I didn’t force anybody to write anything.

  SIMON: Avoiding the question.

  ANDREW: Jill handed me a resignation letter and I refused to accept it.

  LINDA: You refused?

  ANDREW: She doesn’t want to resign because of me.

  LINDA: That’s what you think?

  ANDREW: That’s what I know.

  SIMON: You don’t know anything about her.

  ANDREW: She came to my wedding.

  SIMON: One of the lucky few to get an invitation.

  Lights snap to grey. LINDA waves her arms like Peter Garrett. Lights back on.

  LINDA: Her work schedule is punishing.

  SIMON: ‘Punishing’—

  ANDREW: Take it / easy.

  LINDA: Do the staff agree to the proposed increase in the workload?