It's been a few weeks since the festival ended, and I still haven't got around to describing the antics that went on meanwhile. Perhaps to set the scene it would be best to describe the remaining two of my bosses, as an understanding of their characters is crucial to comprehending some situations.
2) The Organizational Director.
Probably the nicest guy of the bunch. A movie producer and director, producer of various international festivals in Warsaw and all over Poland. His down-to-earth approach and managerial skills made working with him a pleasure. Taking time out of the day to pamper his employees and make sure they were never lacking for everything (even Kleenex!), he was for me an inspiration, although his absent-mindedness and his constant tardiness did sometimes upset my well-planned day. What is most striking about him are the people skills he possesses - never at a loss for a word, a well-timed compliment, or a simple pat on the back. He learns the names of everyone he meets, from cleaning ladies to security guards, and calls them by name whenever he can - a simple enough ploy which literally keeps the cleaning ladies running after him with mops offering to do extra work to accommodate him. His practical attitude ("better work hard for 2 hours getting everything done than spend 8 hours playing solitaire on the computer and pretending to be busy") puts him in direct opposition to HIRD, and his marketing and popularizing approach to theatre ("Art") daily, nay even hourly ignited the wrath of AD (who, acting contrary to his own interests, does not even have an e-mail account). This made for some tense but interesting situations.
3) The Head of the International Relations Department (HIRD).
HIRD is the only one of the full-time culture institution employees, and this is reflected in his work. He does not work because he is artistically motivated (AD), nor yet interested in bringing the project to its conclusion (OD), he works because...he works because... I know not.
Nominally, HIRD was my supervisor in the institute. This turned out to be a good deal for him, since he got credit for the project without actually knowing what it was about. Not that this didn't have its good side - he signed any paper, contract or bill which I would put on his desk, after a peremptory: 'So, this expense was really needed? Is it in the budget?" to which he would always receive affirmative answers (note: this was entirely correct, as they were - it was the first project with a major budget that I was responsible for, so I preferred to underspend than otherwise). However, the last day, when the final performance and closing ceremony were running the risk of being canceled at the last minute due to technical problems (the theatre company had failed to bring their main technician, and the lighting and sound were being done by an actress who had never done them before), this proved to be slightly annoying. HIRD called me from across the impatient crowd (including directors and other VIPS, since the closing ceremony was also a banquet) milling about in the foyer: "Is everything ok?" to which I undauntedly replied: "Of course!" (no use explaining the hitch to him - he would have panicked, adding to an already stressful situation.) "So, Coordinator, what is going on?" "Well, we're having a few technical problems, so we'll be a few minutes late. But everything is fine!" We were 30 minutes late, and everything did turn out to be fine, but no support from his quarter was forthcoming.
HIRD is probably the most interesting of my bosses for a simple reason - for all his staunch anti-communism, he is actually the product of a bygone era in Poland. HIRD is quite young, in his mid-thirties, so he certainly has only distant memories of what life under communism looked like. He professes to be very much right-wing. However, his work ethic belies his beliefs. Let me explain.
In communist Poland, the dream of most people was to obtain what was known as a 'posada' (in English this translates into: job, position.) However, in Poland the word carries connotations of a job position with many benefits: paid vacations, special recreation centers targeted at employees of a certain state enterprise,etc. The most important of these benefits is the stability of the job, the fact of being regularly paid - regardless of the efficiency and results of one's work.
HIRD is what I imagine a state employee (and under communism, most people fell into this category) used to be like. He comes in late, usually around 9.30, sometimes not even bothering to explain his tardiness. He then promptly sets about making himself a pot of coffee, checks to make sure the room is properly humidified, surveys his little kingdom of 3 subordinates and sits down in his great armchair to catch up on his correspondence.
At 12 he leaves for lunch, well-prepared with a stack of newspapers under his arm, and returns at earliest around 2 PM. Hopefully, he has a meeting with the director, or someone else from the institute, or someone with whom he is working on a project. He is most happy if this person is from outside the office, which necessitates officially signing himself out and leaving the office for an indefinite period of time. Lacking official professional meetings, he takes it upon himself to organize 'department meetings', which are a story unto themselves.
If no more semblants of meetings are available, then he is condemned to suffer through another few hours, until he leaves, earlier than 5 PM. He is very exacting about letting himself take days off from work due to illness or otherwise.
What HIRD actually does do in his time in the office (what little of it there is) remains a mystery. His computer screen is set up in such a way as to make it impossible for anyone else to see what he is actually doing. He delegates as much of his tasks as possible to his employees, and when asked about how to fulfill a certain formality, or what is the procedure applicable in a given situation, he stares point-blank to try to make the inquirer feel guilty about not knowing. Failing that, he sends the inquirer to any other department (accounting, administration, graphic design), explaining that this is none of his business.
And his penchant for meetings... that merits a separate post.

It's over!

My desperate battle-cry of 'The show must go on!" appears to have taken effect. I no longer have 3 phones ringing every few seconds with a group pilot demanding: "There is no taxi coming to pick them up, what I am supposed to do?" or the translator: "My tramway is up in smoke - I won't get to the theatre for the rehearsal in time" or the catering company: "Can you possibly come 15 minutes late? Nothing is ready for dinner yet". No longer do I have to keep track of 25 lost and forlorn artists in all stages of undress, distress and stress. No longer do I have to worry about where they left the 5-kg block of green clay, nor whether the Swiss branches and leaves really are sufficiently fire-proof enough to be placed 5 centimeters from the lit candles, or that the make-up assistant's child lost its favorite toy below the stage.
In a word, the festival is over. Finito. La fin. End of story.
Or rather the beginning - as you can imagine, I have my fair share of stories to tell after this ridiculous week, when adrenaline and a large dose of pseudo-ephedrine were the only things that kept me going from 7 AM to 12 PM eight days straight. It's not easy being one of 2 people responsible for an international theatre festival.
Once the adrenaline and pseudo-ephedrine were no longer in my system, I slept for a whole day. And a few more days for 12 hours straight. Now I feel okay. And I can commence the stories. Beware, some will be truly blood-curdling!