A disastrous class

Most of my classes are a lot of fun.  Some are more fun than others, though usually there's something to recommend them.  So far, I've never yet had an absolute disaster, though - until this one.

It was so bad that I resisted writing about it for a long time.  Partly because I just couldn't face it, but also because I didn't want to draw attention to how horribly it could go wrong.  But it's only fair to describe the poor ones as well as the good ones.

So... The owners of the Fiddler's Elbow - a location I've used numerous times in the past - sold up without bothering to tell anyone.  Including me.  Despite the fact that I've booked and paid for a room for a class of 21 people.  The biggest class of the entire year.

I can't accurately convey the panic and rage I felt when I realised what had happened.  Thankfully, I always try to set the classes up a couple of hours before they're due to start, so I had at least given myself time to respond.  But I was facing a venue that was completely shut down and had a sign on the front door, saying "Closed for refurbishment".  There was also a handwritten note with someone's 'phone number on it, though.  So I called it and got the new owner.

Apparently I wasn't the only person that the previous owners had simply abandoned, so the new guy - Dean - had already had to deal with some irate clientele.  But by the time I got through to him, I was already inside the building and checking out the rooms that I'd used in the past.  The upper room was still being decorated, but the basement was reasonably clear.  By this stage, I was being very polite, but very firm - I told Dean that I was taking the basement and not offering him the option to deny it to me.

I called up the girl who had booked me, explained the situation - as succinctly as possible - and assured her that I would still be able to provide a venue and a class, but also explained that I might be a little behind schedule.  I was cringing by this point, because I also had to tell her that there would be no bar service, so they would have to bring their own drinks.  And I had to tell her that she would need to enter a venue that was prominently advertising that it was "Closed for refurbishment".  It was the most unprofessional, shoddy service I've ever had to offer anyone and I was hating every minute of it.

After I hung up, I still had to find 21 chairs - and the whole place had, apparently, been cleaned out of all furniture.  So I started raiding the guest rooms, claiming chairs from them and carrying them down four flights of stairs, into the basement room.  I found another dozen chairs in a cupboard and improvised the remainder out of a windowsill and a chest that I covered up with a fur blanket.

And finally - actually ahead of schedule - I was able to call the girl up and tell her that the room was ready (or as ready as it was ever going to get) for everybody to come round.

The girls arrived, I apologised for everything and invited them all into their room.  And as compensation, I offered to disregard the usual time limit and run the class for as long as everyone was having fun.  And then, in the midst of all this, one of the decorators casually strolled into the room, looking for a stepladder and disrupting everything.  Since I'd spoken to him just twenty minutes earlier and already explained that the room was off limits, it was really starting to feel like nothing could possibly go right, by this point.

By then, I was on edge and starting to make stupid mistakes.  This was even worse, because these couldn't be blamed on other people - they were entirely my fault.  I botched the introduction to the class and entered the room while drinks were still being poured, so there was an awkward few moments before I was able to set up the first pose and subsequent drawing challenges.  A couple of times, I was close to panic and the usual humour didn't flow as smoothly as it usually did.  Some of the girls still appeared to be really enjoying themselves and there were the usual laughs at my jokes or my comments about the pictures, but there were others who were clearly not amused and the stony faces were starting to take a serious toll on my self-confidence as well.

Eventually the class wrapped up and some of the girls collected their things and left without hesitation.  I handed some business cards to one of them who assured me that she'd give them to her friends when she caught up with everybody, but I found them on the bar a few minutes later.

A few days later, I got an email from the agency the girls had booked me through.  They had written an absolutely scathing letter of complaint about the class - describing it as "cringe-worthy" and picking apart every single detail.  Some of the elements that came under fire were elements that had worked - repeatedly - with previous classes, but in the context of this one they were apparently embarrassing and clumsy.  Absolutely nothing escaped their scrutiny and I was left squirming all over again.  I called the agency, described how things had gone, agreed that a huge chunk of the complaint was completely valid (but still argued that some of it was unfair) and finally agreed that the girls were entitled to a full refund.

In hindsight, I should have probably argued with that decision and offered to refund half the money.  While I was on the 'phone and discussing the complaint, I was painfully aware of all the things that had gone wrong.  But then, a week later, I did another class for a different agency and while it was going on, I remembered all the things that I had done right - and there were plenty of those.  I also remembered all the girls who seemed to have been really enjoying themselves and who had been participating with complete enthusiasm.

And I remembered all the sketchpads that had been used up.  All the pages that were taken away at the end of that class.  21 girls will use up a lot of paper - and even more was used with the extra time that I had given them in an attempt to make them happier about the shoddy beginning to the class.  All in all, it was demoralising and heartbreaking.  And it was booked through the very agency that gives me about 60% of all the business I get, so I had to worry about the potential for damaged relations with them as well.

So... undeniably a disastrous class.

Improvisation and flexibility

There were a lot of things that could have gone wrong with this weekend - and a few that nearly did go wrong.  But, luckily, it all ultimately went well.  Mainly because I was able to improvise, change plans and anticipate the dangers.

I had one class in Dundee and another in Aviemore.  The Aviemore one had a venue all arranged, so that was going to be easy.  The Dundee one, however, had nothing.  I made a lot of trips to Dundee, and even stayed there overnight once or twice, but still... despite walking through street after street after street, despite walking into every pub and cafe and nightclub I could find, nothing was turning up.  I had a class, but no venue.

A couple of years ago, I held a class in Drouthy Neebors, but that venue was no longer available.  It had been renamed and was under new management - now it's simply called Drouthies.  It was the very first place I approached and the very first disappointment.

I tried to turn it down, but the agency weren't having that.  They simply threatened to give the contract to someone else - and presumably, they would have continued to give that person all subsequent contracts.

Eventually, I found a place called The West Port Bar and all suddenly seemed to be sunshine and rainbows once more.  Briefly.  But by then, I had some serious doubts about the model - a guy called David - I had lined up for the job.  He was not answering texts or emails.  I asked him to provide bank details, which he did - in the most perfunctory possible text.  I no longer had confidence in him.

This led to a fresh dilemma.  Could I rely on him to turn up for the job?  I had offered him twice the going rate, in order to cover his petrol costs - surely that would be enough motivation.  I wasn't convinced.

I recruited a new model as a backup option - a guy from New Zealand called Barney.  But that caused fresh complications.  Should I fire David?  I wasn't sure.  So far, he had been hard to get hold of, but hadn't really given me enough cause.  It was borderline and that was making me indecisive.  So should I send Barney... just in case David didn't turn up?  What if both models turned up?  Should I pay both but only employ one?

And then there was a sudden moment of inspiration - I flipped the problem round.  Send Barney to Aviemore to cover that class instead.  Go to Dundee, personally.  Then, if David didn't turn up, I could handle it personally.

This had the added benefit of me being able to personally speak to a very disgruntled client.  The girl who had booked me for the Dundee class was not happy with the service she had received from the agency.  So if I was there to talk to her myself, I could apologise on their behalf and make sure she received personal attention from me, specifically.  That might sound egotistical, but I have a decent bit of experience with these events, have worked out a good routine and have learned how to be very flexible.  I was confident that I could provide a good show.

So I spent the rest of the week coaching Barney, making sure he was cool with what was expected - all that stuff.  I covered the bus timetables with him.  I told him to set an alarm on his 'phone in case he missed his stop and told him that even if he did, he could still get off at Inverness instead and catch the first bus back to Aviemore from there.  I made sure he had the contact details of the girl in Aviemore and that she had his.  I made sure the he had a fresh and unused supply of sketchpads and two brand new boxes of charcoal.  I spent the week going through every possible scenario and making sure I had as many potential problems covered as I could possibly anticipate.  And I still quietly stressed.

Onn Saturday morning, I got up and went with Barney to the station, put him on a bus to Aviemore and caught the next bus to Dundee.

Now, since my class started before his...
and since Dundee is a lot closer to Edinburgh than Aviemore...
and since I made sure he was scheduled to get into town a good 90 minutes before his class started...
... all of this meant that I arrived in Dundee a good four hours early.  But it was worth it, because I knew that he was definitely on his way.  It's clear that I was becoming a little paranoid by this stage.

I dropped off the kit at the West Port Bar, then wandered into Dundee - not the most pleasant of Scottish cities - so that I could find a coffee shop to relax in for a couple of hours.  Then I went back to the bar to set up, then sit back, relax and wait for the various people to turn up.  Predictably - no sign of David.  So when the girls arrived, I knew that I was the model for their class after all.

But it really was a great class.  As usual, when it all started, all the stresses and background bits of panic just melted away.  I knew what I was doing and I was enjoying myself.  And it helped a lot, that I had one of the most enthusiastic and pleased brides I'd had in a long time - this was no error in judgement made by her friends.  She loved the idea.  I introduced the concept as a straightforward art class, then told everybody that I was going to find the first prop to draw - a Dalek.  I disappeared behind a convenient screen and started stripping off.  Occasionally I called out that I'd seen the Dalek and was trying to catch it - a monumentally cheesy concept, but still fun.  In my head, at least.  Then, when I was finally naked, I stepped out from behind the screen, holding the Dalek and was greeted by a delighted bride.

For some reason - I can't remember why - this pose had me holding the Dalek at crotch height while the girls drew me.  So the Dalek became a bit of a euphemism for the rest of that class.  It's fun the way every class goes a bit different, because I'm responding to so many different things.  The environment, the attitudes of the girls, the different suggestions for the poses.  Even when I'm not asking for volunteers and encouraging a bit of creativity, there's still a lot of flexibility involved.

As usual, I asked for permission to take pictures of the class.  I was granted it, but the girls told me they wanted to be able to vet them before I used them.  Fair enough... I figured we'd go through them all at the end of the class, but somehow we forgot to do that.  So... at this point... no pictures for this event.  Later, I might be able to do the vetting with someone, but at the moment I'll respect their privacy and won't post any.

It's a pity, because there are a couple of good ones in there.  There was one where - during the Make-A-Giant-Man pose - one of the girls drew a really cool arm that got singled out for special attention.  I posed with her, holding the arm over my own.  In a different pose, one of the girls drew my torso - and when she held it up for inspection, I thought it looked pretty cool because it seemed to measure up to her own torso pretty well.  I got her to hold it up in front of the other girls, to demonstrate that.

Throughout the class, I was entertained a lot by the serving staff coming and going in the background.  The lower part of the venue was a restaurant as well as a bar and the staff had to pass our class as they went to and from the kitchens.  They never seemed to look in our direction, so I couldn't help wondering if they were rigidly looking ahead every time they went by.  Like the militant eye contact the first-timers make when they visit a nudist colony - or so I hear.

When the class was finished, I drew aside the girl who had booked me and told her I had been aware of the difficulties she had experienced with the agency.  I tried to apologise and tell her I hoped that she had enjoyed the class, despite all of that.  I think that, in the end, she had fun.  Whether it was worth the hassles, is a different story, but I hope so.  It certainly seemed like all the other girls enjoyed themselves a lot, though.  And the feedback book was particularly popular.  There were a lot of comments added to it.

When the class was done, I tried calling David on both of the 'phone numbers he had given me.  One had a disconnected tone and the other had a recorded message informing that the number had not been recognised.  I sent him an email, but received no response.  I have competitors these days, and it would be an underhand - but very realistic - tactic if one of them was to accept a modelling job, but not turn up.  That could seriously damage my reputation and would cost me a lot of money.  I've got no real evidence that this was David's motivation, but it definitely pays to keep that sort of thing in mind and have contingency plans available.

I got back into Edinburgh before Barney.  I contacted the girls from Aviemore and they seemed to be very happy with the way their class had gone.  Later, when I spoke to Barney, I discovered that he had left all the sketchpads and charcoal with that group - because he thought that they were allowed to keep them.  They were brand new sketchpads - never been used.  Thirteen of them gone for ever.  I have to admit, that took the shine off the weekend a bit.

But still... two classes that had the potential to be absolutely disastrous had - in the end - gone very, very well.  Ultimately, there was very little to complain about.