A Strategic Plan

by Ross Mueller

  This play is dedicated to Georgina Capper.

  For her strength and her love, her sense of humour.

  A Strategic Plan was first produced by Griffin Theatre Company at SBW Stables Theatre, Sydney, on 27 January 2017, with the following cast:

  LINDA / LEANNE Briallen Clarke

  SIMON / PERKINS Matt Day

  ANDREW Justin Smith

  JILL Emele Ugavule

  Director, Chris Mead

  Designer, Sophie Fletcher

  Lighting Designer, Verity Hampson

  Sound Designer and Composer, Steve Francis

  Design Assistant, Tyler Hawkins

  Stage Manager, Grace Nye-Butler

  CHARACTERS

  ANDREW, Director of Music Program

  LEANNE, lawyer with a no-win no-fee law firm

  LINDA, HR rep on Board of Management

  SIMON, Chair of the Board of Management

  JILL, Membership & Marketing employee

  PERKINS, independent barrister

  The casting should reflect the diversity of Australia.

  Staccato, a not-for-profit organisation, promotes music and music opportunities for young people. It relies on government funding for survival.

  A slash [/] indicates overlapping dialogue. If at the start of a line of dialogue, it indicates that the following line is to be spoken simultaneously.

  This play went to press before the end of rehearsals and may differ from the play as performed.

  PRE-SHOW MUSIC

  The Jam: ‘Going Underground’.

  SCENE ONE: CORE BUSINESS

  Lights up on ANDREW and JILL.

  ANDREW is in an airlock. Noise-cancelling headphones. Stainless steel water bottle. Listening to The Shanghai Susans. Plastic bags of folders at his feet. A grey-walled corridor only big enough for three humans and a table. Fluoro light above.

  JILL is in her studio. She is setting up a couple of microphones. One for a vocal and one for acoustic guitar. Fluoro light.

  SIMON is also onstage, either illuminated or in darkness.

  ANDREW looks at the dead light. He claps his hands. Nothing. He tries again. Nothing. Silence. LEANNE arrives. Watches him. He moves his arms wildly in the air. Nothing. He jumps up and down and waves and claps.

  JILL puts on headphones and tests the microphones with claps and clicks and …

  JILL: One. Chew. One. Chew. One. Chooo. One … Chew. Hello, hello. Hello, hello. / One two three four.

  LEANNE: Are you okay?

  SIMON: It is a fucking deathtrap.

  JILL: Here we go. / Here we go. New man. Noi-man, N. E. U. Man. I got a D.I. for guitar and a second-hand Neu-mann T.L.M. one oh chew. One oh chew. Thank you, Georgie. Ho. Ho!

  SIMON: And I happen to think that young people deserve a little bit better than derelict, dangerous, ex-government buildings, don’t you? Oh no, that’s right. You want to exterminate all the emerging artists in the world, don’t you? Look at these walls—!

  JILL: Hah! Ready for you—

  LEANNE: Andrew?

  ANDREW takes off his headphones.

  ANDREW: Where have you been?

  Beat.

  LEANNE: Monday morning. Parking is a homicide.

  ANDREW: It’s polite to call if you’re running late.

  The airlock scene continues as LEANNE sets up her workstation.

  LEANNE: Ando. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot but I am not late. / I am actually the best in the office when it comes time management and scheduling—I did my time in chambers with Gibson and Duncan and anybody who has survived articles with those two-time management Nazis knows how to read a clock on the wall. Gibson is the worst.

  ANDREW: It is not ‘Andy’ or ‘Ando’ or ‘The Drew-ster’. It’s simple ‘Andrew’. I’m renting and I’ve got a house inspection this morning, so I had to surgically clean my bathroom before I came here because my landlord is a neo-Nazi and she has pictures of every crack. Any tiny defect—

  LEANNE: So far beyond anal, he is intestinal.

  ANDREW: I left twenty minutes earlier than I needed just to make sure I would get here on time.

  LEANNE: So did I, and look at me. / Here I am. On time. Ready to help you win.

  ANDREW: Here I am. On time. They told me nine-thirty.

  ANDREW’s phone rings.

  LEANNE: For a ten a.m. start and—

  ANDREW: [answering] Hello …?

  LEANNE: He’s answering his telephone. Good times.

  ANDREW: Not even close. I have road cases for everything and … I know what … I am not going to negotiate. Five grand is rock bottom, or forget it.

  He hangs up.

  Fucken Gumtree.

  LEANNE: You a local?

  ANDREW: Moved here for the job.

  LEANNE: Do you love it?

  ANDREW: Cretins, bogans and Pizza Huts.

  LEANNE: Awesome. So … What were you …? You know …? Got the whole … Peter Garrett thing—going—on … That was weird.

  ANDREW: I thought it might respond.

  Beat.

  To human interaction.

  Beat.

  Government buildings. They come on when you move.

  Beat.

  But it didn’t.

  Beat.

  So. We’re in the dark.

  LEANNE hits the light switch. Fluoro buzzes into life.

  Oh. You have powers.

  LEANNE: What have you got down there? Your whole life in plastic bags by the looks of it. Don’t worry. I have copies of all the pertinent documents—

  ANDREW: Have you read them?

  LEANNE: That’s my job. Now. The docket is always enormous on a Monday. A town this size—but the current state government believes—yes—so go and grab a coffee.

  Throughout the following, LEANNE gets a message and writes a response.

  ANDREW: There is a woman out there in / the foyer and … she has a black eye.

  LEANNE: Yes. Yes … I know. There’s a good place at the station.

  ANDREW: Sorry. Am I interrupting you?

  LEANNE: And send. What is that noise?

  ANDREW: Shanghai Susans.

  LEANNE: They’re on Triple J.

  ANDREW: You like ’em?

  LEANNE: I don’t know, they’re fine.

  ANDREW: Great bass. Like Kim Deal crossed with Carol Kaye.

  LEANNE: Getting a coffee?

  ANDREW: I can’t drink coffee. What’s the message?

  LEANNE: Mr Perkins—he says traffic is expletive.

  ANDREW: Who is ‘Mr Perkins’?

  LEANNE: Mr Perkins is your barrister. This will be over by the end of the day.

  ANDREW: What are you talking about?

  LEANNE: Your case. We are going to court. This is what we’re here for.

  ANDREW’s phone rings.

  You didn’t know?

  ANDREW: I thought this was just another briefing.

  LEANNE: Why would we schedule / another ‘briefing’ at the Magistrate’s Court? Andrew, today is the day.

  ANDREW: I dunno. I’m a musician. I’m not a bloody—am I an idiot? Am I a fuckwit? Really? Are we ready? / Fuck. This is it?

  LEANNE receives a text message.

  LEANNE: Okay. This happens all the time. Melissa should have told you. / She should be informing you of the process. I will speak with her when this is over.

  ANDREW: [answering the phone] Hello …? No. Fuck me, man. Five grand is my best and final … Sorry, mate—I’ve just got to go and get some justice.

  He hangs up.

  LEANNE: Mr Perkins is in the building.

  ANDREW: What does that mean?

  LEANNE: Here we go.

  SIMON turns up the volume gently—we are in the band room at Staccato. Posters on th
e walls from years of gigs. A whiteboard.

  ANDREW places his hands over his earbuds—listening to SIMON’s iPod. SIMON is watching his reaction intently. Silence.

  SCENE TWO: FUTURE-PROOFING

  SIMON: How about that …? Good, isn’t it …? Is it? Is it any good?

  ANDREW: [too loud] This bass is fucking great!

  SIMON: Ho—steady / on.

  ANDREW: Very fucking cool.

  SIMON takes one bud out—we can hear the sound.

  SIMON: Everyone / can—

  ANDREW: Oh shit—sorry—

  SIMON: It’s fine. / Young people know swear words.

  ANDREW: I forgot. Still getting used to—

  SIMON: —the workplace?

  ANDREW: Day job.

  SIMON: Sure, man. Sure. Awesome, fantastic.

  ANDREW: [re: the music] Where’d you find this?

  SIMON: My daughter loves her. Uploaded it from iTunes.

  ANDREW: Down. Doesn’t matter.

  SIMON: She records at home. Tiny town in the Land of the Long White Lord of the Rings. So many great Australian artists are Kiwis. Father sent a video of her to the record corporation and bang. She won a Granny.

  ANDREW: Grammy.

  SIMON: What was that?

  ANDREW: Is she touring?

  SIMON: No. Recording artist. So you love it?

  ANDREW: It’s good. [Re: his phone] I gotta get some shots for the Facebook page.

  SIMON: Just good?

  ANDREW: Bit derivative. Stand here and hold up this amp. Make it look like you’re a roadie for Jackson Browne, you like his early stuff?

  SIMON: Derivative of what?

  ANDREW: What? I dunno. Fleetwood Mac, Prince, Michael Jackson. Madonna.

  SIMON: So—derivative of popular music in general?

  ANDREW: Put the amp on your shoulder.

  SIMON: No. My assistant has a Pandora. How about this?

  He offers a new recording.

  Debuted at number three on the Billabong charts.

  ANDREW: Billboard.

  ANDREW listens.

  SIMON: More in your wheelhouse …? Zippy. I’m no expert, but I know what other people like.

  Pause.

  Are you actually in a trance?

  ANDREW: [removing the buds] Thanks for the tunes, Simon.

  SIMON: Hated that too, huh?

  ANDREW: Seriously, I think it’s great somebody from the board is listening to contemporary stuff, if you know what I’m saying.

  SIMON: Take it easy.

  ANDREW: I’ve got to tell you I am very—excited.

  SIMON: What’s wrong?

  ANDREW: Ideas for a new logo.

  SIMON: What’s the matter with the old one?

  ANDREW: Frankly—it looks like a pile of birdshit.

  SIMON: That was our competition winner.

  ANDREW: That was the winner?

  SIMON: Second place looked like a raging dildo.

  ANDREW: [laughing] Schh—that is—you are a pistol.

  SIMON: I’m deadly serious.

  ANDREW: Well, the kids on the advisory panel wanna change it and I think you’re going to fall in love with these / ideas.

  SIMON: How do you know they want to change the logo?

  ANDREW: I meet with them once a week.

  SIMON: Who told you to do that?

  ANDREW: It’s in my job description.

  SIMON: Carmel never did that.

  ANDREW: Yeah, well. Hello? Not Carmel.

  SIMON: / Where are your priorities? This place is falling apart. Something cool? What, like a food truck or something …? Hold on. Graffiti is illegal. It is a serious community concern, I’ve seen the polling on that.

  ANDREW: They want the new logo to look like a record label or something cool. It’s a great idea. They’ve got some mates—street artists, but they do more than tags—they do murals. Get this. They want the silhouette of our building to be the backdrop of the new Staccato visual presence—

  SIMON: Drop it. Forget it.

  ANDREW: But I think it’s really clever.

  SIMON: We have an existing logo—full stop.

  ANDREW: Re-branding is—an actual thing—you know? In all honesty, I am finding it difficult to attract new members to the old pile of birdshit. Might be time to take a new pass at the image we are trying to project.

  SIMON: Have they done a business case?

  ANDREW: A what?

  SIMON: Change is expensive.

  ANDREW: It doesn’t have to be. / The artists are working for free. It’s a couple of business cards and the website—I don’t see what the problem is.

  SIMON: Get them to do a business case. A robust appraisal of the costs and benefits. Fiscal responsibility essential—

  ANDREW: It’s just a logo.

  SIMON: The board will discuss it in the New Year.

  ANDREW: Lemme show you some of these sketches.

  SIMON: No. I actually dropped in to congratulate you.

  ANDREW: Me?

  SIMON: Great job on the AusCo application.

  ANDREW: Oh. Man. / Thanks. That means a lot. We worked really hard on that document and yeah … thanks.

  SIMON: Not at all. Scope. Vision. Just—too much. Enormous. ‘Emerging Artists’. ‘Regional-based’. Slipped in ‘Diversity’. Tremendous.

  ANDREW: Did you see the feedback forms we put in the support material?

  SIMON: ‘This music program is—dope!’

  ANDREW: Fucking ‘dope’—how about that?

  SIMON: Dope is good, right?

  ANDREW: Dope is great—

  SIMON: Not wacky tobacky.

  ANDREW: No, no, it’s cool, / it’s cool.

  SIMON: And somebody wrote ‘Staccato Rocks’… Did you write that one? Young people don’t say ‘rocks’, do they? Sounds a little gen X to me.

  ANDREW: Rock never dies.

  SIMON: Disagree.

  ANDREW: No. Rock lives.

  SIMON: Confident?

  ANDREW: Colin said it is unpredictable. Brandis is ripping the guts outta the AusCo. / But we are regional. That will help us.

  SIMON: Yes, well … that’s not exactly true. The Liberal Party is a great supporter of the arts. The minister is setting up Excellence Funding and that is really good for the regions and the opera. Excellence for everybody. Listen. Gotta dash. Running late for a sub-committee. But it’s a great application. So. When we get the money—we can add it to the pot and move onto the next phase of refurbishment. We need that elevator fixed. Are the fairy lights in the milk crates?

  ANDREW: What pot?

  SIMON: Such an artist.

  ANDREW: I’m actually Music Director and Co-CEO.

  SIMON: On paper. Yes. / Six-month probation.

  ANDREW: No. In reality. What is ‘the pot’?

  SIMON: I thought you were making a musician joke, but you … Let me explain.

  He takes a whiteboard maker, uncaps it, and draws three circles on the board.

  What do you see here, Andy?

  ANDREW: Three big balls. Like nuts. No, circles. Yes. No. What am I looking at?

  SIMON: Grants. / Federal, State and Local.

  ANDREW: Okay. I see that. Yes. Of course.

  SIMON: These sacks of earned income all get put into one…

  He draws a large circle around the three other circles.

  Big pot—to put the cash ‘in’. Now. At the moment—Staccato exists inside a heritage-listed building. Which makes … [writing and speaking at the same time] ‘Cap X = top priority’. When we get the money from AusCo—we can [writing and speaking at the same time] ‘Fix … broken elevator.’

  ANDREW: But the program money is not designated for capital works.

  SIMON: / We talked about this at the Planning Day. My vineyard has huge expenses and lumpy income. Therefore I prepare for the worst and plan for the future. This is fiscal intelligence.

  ANDREW: This money is specifically tied to the music activities for the members—we have to be spec
ific in the way we spend it. Seriously? Is this how you do business?

  JILL arrives—she has one bud, laptop and skateboard.

  SIMON: Staccato is not-for-profit. We are essential to the cultural ecology and without our little roots in the landscape there will be an, an, an erosion that will become an unfillable sinkhole never to be filled. Our country is in danger of becoming a cultural cargo cult. Fully importing the next Split Enz. If we don’t manage our balls and circles wisely there will be no future for the young people. Nothing. They will be dead. The young people will be dead, Ando. This is what you want, is it? You want to murder all of our emerging artists? You want the young people to die?

  JILL: Busted.

  SIMON: Who is?

  JILL: Photoshop. Again. Can’t do anything else today. I’m heading home.

  ANDREW: Photoshop doesn’t ‘break’.

  JILL: It’s not letting me do it, Ando.

  ANDREW: Do what?

  JILL: Design. So I’ll see you tomorrow—

  SIMON: What are you designing?

  JILL: Brochure for next year.

  SIMON: Already?

  JILL: He wants it done in a ‘sap’.

  SIMON: What’s a sap?

  JILL: It’s another language. Like Japanese or some shit.

  ANDREW: It’s ASAP. / Just—accepted—management shorthand … Yes.

  SIMON: Why are you designing a brochure when you don’t know the outcome of the funding applications?

  JILL: That’s exactly what I was telling him.

  SIMON: Oh-ah. No, no, no, stop work on the brochure I think.

  ANDREW: [to JILL] You’re not going home.

  JILL: [to SIMON] He doesn’t listen, that’s his problem.

  ANDREW: Nobody is stopping work on the brochure.

  JILL: Tell that to Photoshop.

  ANDREW: It can be fixed.

  JILL: It’s supposed to be intuitive.

  SIMON: Ha. Nothing has been intuitive since the Bicentennial.

  JILL: You need an expert.

  ANDREW: I’ll take a look under the hood in a minute.

  JILL: What are you doing now?

  ANDREW: We are actually in a meeting. Advisory kids came up with a new logo—

  JILL: They’re not kids, they’re young people.

  ANDREW: What’s wrong with ‘kids’?

  JILL: Infantilism is oppression, perpetuated by the capitalist patriarchy.

  SIMON: True dat.

  ANDREW: [to JILL] Just lose the board and—get on with some other work.